#i meant to start with five days left but. uh

[transformers-earthspark]

4 days left until June 7!

That's 96 hours.

Or 5,760 minutes.

Season 2 Countdown 🌟

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[mismatched-sockss]

By your side

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader » Word count: 2,6k » Warnings: fluff with some angst, established relationship, mentions of reader wearing jewellery (necklace) and make up, pet names (honey, baby) » A/N: no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

Being in a relationship with an FBI agent - especially one working in the BAU - meant, dreading each phone call or text they got when they were off the clock and the both of you were spending time together. But it also meant, dreading each phone call you got, when they were out of town and / or state working on a case. The small heart attack you suffered every time the phone rang, the fear of hearing something happened or that they wouldn't be coming home... You prayed to who ever was listening, that you would never get the latter.

Sometimes, it meant dreading to get a call from them before they even had the chance to see you.

Your hands were still holding the clasp of your necklace between your fingers, just about to close it, when your cellphone rang. The screen lit up and for a second you closed your eyes, not quiet ready to confirm who it was.

For a second you wished the caller would be anyone else but - hell, you would even prefer it if it was your mother, who you had not spoken to in almost ten years.

A sigh left your lips when you opened your eyes and looked at the screen: Spence❤️

Well, looked like your evening plans would change.

You lowered your hands, still holding your necklace and placed it back on to the small glass bowl where you kept your most used jewellery in.

You cleared your throat before you answered the call, trying to keep even the slightest bit of disappointment from your voice. And then, you put on a smile and held your phone to your ear. "Hi, you."

"Hey." Spencer drew the greeting out, he sounded less enthusiastic then you had forced yourself to sound. This was the last piece you needed, to know that he wasn't just calling to tell you that he was excited to see you later.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, slightly gnawing on your lip.

"Where?", was all you asked. This time, you couldn't keep your tone light, no matter how hard you were trying.

After a short silence: "Oregon. Lakeview."

You nodded slowly, even though you knew he couldn't see it. "When-", you had to clear your throat again, "uh, when are you leaving?"

"We're about to get on the jet", Spencer answered. It pained him just as much as you, maybe even more, that he had to cancel on you. Again. On your one year anniversary of all days. And you didn't even have some time to at least talk on the phone for a couple of minutes before he had to go.

For a moment neither of you said a word. This wasn't the first time he had to cancel your plans due to his work and it sure as hell would not be the last time. You knew what you were getting yourself in to when Spencer and you started seeing each other. You knew that it would probably happen more times than not and you accepted it; you were more than understanding that the bad guys didn't care for nine-to-fives, weekends or holidays.

You were more than understanding that, while yes, you were a priority in his life, the job would have to come first. And you were fine with that, his job wasn't one he could just “pause” to spent more time with you. But no matter how okay you were with Spencer's unpredictable work hours, that didn't mean it didn't affect you. You couldn't help but feel sad and disappointed when ever he got called away, every time wishing he would stay.

You knew from the start, that it would be hard and it would take a lot of work. But he was worth all of this.

Over the phone you could hear another voice, too distant to make out what was being said, but you didn't need to. It was your cue: your time was up.

"I'm s- I have to go. I'm sorry, honey", Spencer apologized. He would apologise a hundred times more if you'd let him.

"It's okay", you say, a sad smile on your lips.

"I am so sorry, I promise I'll make it-"

But you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to say that he would make it up to you; and knowing, that he would. "It's okay, baby. Go, they need you. Really, it's okay. I'm okay. I'll see you when you get back. Just... Be safe, okay?"

"I will", he promised, "I will... I love you."

"I love you too." Then, the call ended.

You took in a shaky breath to calm yourself down and wiped the single tear that had escaped from your cheek. Exhaling all the air in your lungs out at once, you squared your shoulders and made eye contact with yourself in the mirror. You had only gone through your skin care routine after you got out of the shower, so there was no make up you had to remove.

A tight lipped smile on your lips, you nodded at yourself. "Just gonna be you, some chinese take out and a nice relaxing horror movie tonight", you mumbled. You stood up, changed into some comfortable clothes and then walked into the kitchen to get the flyer of your favourite chinese restaurant out of the drawer.

It had been almost a week since then. He hadn't told you any details of course, but the simple textbook case that first landed on their desks had turned out to be much bigger than anyone could have imagined.

Spencer had called you every evening, and hearing his voice calmed your worries and fears of him getting hurt, but each phone call made you miss him more and more.

Tonight, he hadn't called you yet and it was getting pretty late. You had gotten a text from him not too long ago, a quick check in, so you knew he was okay.

While you waited, you had brought a book and cup of tea with you as you moved from the couch to your bed. With a pillow in your back, you were leaning against the headboard, your blanket draped over your legs, and your phone lay next to you on the bed.

You looked up from your book to check the time. It was close to one o'clock and it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, sleep already pulling at your conscience, but you didn't want to go to sleep without talking to Spencer. A couple of minutes would do it, you just wanted to hear his voice. You continued reading, but Morpheus had other plans for you, and so you drifted into a deep sleep, your book still in your hands.

A soft touch, first on your forehead and hair, then on your shoulder pulled you out of your dreams just enough for you to feel the bed dip behind you, followed by an arm sneaking around your waist. You hummed happily, when lips pressed against your shoulder and your neck in a few chaste kisses before you were pulled closer against a firm chest.

The smell of coffee and something sweet tickled your nose hours later, slowly stirring you awake. With your eyes still closed you inhaled through your nose, sniffing the air, trying to make out the different smells. If you weren't mistaken, Spencer had baked blueberry-pancakes. It smelled delicious, that was for sure.

Your attention was quickly drawn away though, when you became aware of the feathery kisses being planted on your neck; you vaguely remembered feeling the same kisses last night. A hand gently rubbed over your upper arm, from your elbow up to your shoulder where fingertips moved so softly over your shoulder blade it almost tickled, before the hand travelled back down to your elbow.

A smile spread on your lips as your heartbeat quickened and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your stomach. You sighed and slightly moved your head to make more room for the man behind you.

You could feel the lips on your skin stretching into a smile as well, could feel the low chuckle bubbling up in the chest that was pressed against your back. He scooted even closer, moulding his body to the silhouette of yours. Spencer planted one last kiss on the top of your shoulder before he rested his cheek against it and looked at you.

"Good morning", he said softly, his warm breath hit your ear and a shudder ran down your spine. He, obviously, had been up for a while already, but his voice still had that raw and rough undertone like it always had in the morning.

"Hey", you sighed as you stretched your tired muscles, then you turned around, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek. "You're back."

He hummed and leant into your touch, his eyes closed. You let your eyes wander over his face, checking for any cuts or bruises. Relief flooded through you when you didn't find any.

"You okay?", you asked.

He nodded and reached up to cover your hand with his. "Just tired."

"I bet. You didn't say you were coming back. Waited for you to call", you mumbled.

He kissed your wrist and gently squeezed your hand, then he opened his eyes again to meet your gaze. "Surprise?", he joked, but you could hear a hint of guilt in his tone. "I hope I didn't keep you up too long? I'm sorry, I should have at least texted you."

You shook your head. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad your here now and that you are okay."

"But-", he started but you closed the space between you and kissed him.

"Shh, no buts. I'd stay awake and wait the whole night if it means that I get you back, unharmed and in one piece." You kissed him again, letting you lips linger a bit longer this time.

When you pulled away and saw his furrowed brows and the conflicted look in his eyes, you could almost hear the gears in Spencer's mind working.

He moved his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair and pulled you closer. He pressed his lips against your forehead, but not in the light hearted way he had kissed you before, then he tucked your head under his chin. And if he wouldn't have been so close, you might not have heard the words he whispered next.

"You deserve so much better..."

If someone would have stabbed you with a dull knife multiple times right into your heart, it wouldn't have hurt you as much as his muttered words just had.

"Don't say that", you said, your voice muffled with the way your face was so close to his neck.

In contradiction to what he was implying - or maybe especially because of what he was implying -, Spencer's hold on you tightened, leaving no room for you to put any distance between the both of you even if you wanted. "Why not? It's true... You don't deserve-"

"A sweet and loving boyfriend, who gets up to make breakfast even on days when he had about two hours of sleep at best, all after a whole week of working like 24h a day?" You did your best to sound light hearted. "Wow, that's harsh."

He huffed, but stayed silent for a moment.

"I mean it, you don't deserve someone who you can't even make plans with, without the possibility that they have to leave in the middle of it and who leaves you alone all the time", he mumbled against the crown of your head. It took everything in you not to start crying; for you, for him, for the possibility of an end to the future you wanted with him. "I hate that I have to cancel our dates all the time. I feel like I'm letting you down..." You felt his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "And I would understand if you wouldn't want to put up with that any more.”

You placed your hands on his chest and pushed slightly, just enough so you could lean your head back and look at him. Tears had not only welled up in your eyes, but his as well. To stop your lip from quivering you pulled it between your teeth. You slid one of your hands higher, over the side of his neck and up to the side of his face. For a moment you softly stroked your thumb over his cheek, but then went on to try and flatten out the space between his brows, to remove the deep frown on his face.

You took a deep breath. “Did you save some lives in Oregon?”, you asked him, you voice not much louder than a whisper.

“Huh? What?” Confusion was written all over his face.

“Did you?”

“Uh, yes.”

You smiled at him. “And did you catch the bad guy?”

“... Yes.”

“Good." You brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes behind his ear. "That's enough for me. Then there is nothing to feel bad about. You don't leave on purpose or with ill intentions. Then things don't always go as planned, so what? I know how much this job means to you, and I know how important it is for the people in need that you do it."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and landed on the pillow. You let your eyes wander over his face, before stopping to meet his gaze.

"And that's exactly why you deserve better", he whispered, his voice braking.

You shook your head. "I don't want anything or anyone else. I don't want what ever you mean by better." You leaned closer, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I want you. " Another kiss to the other side. "And only you." You planted a kiss on the tip of his nose next. "With or without a crazy and unpredictable work schedule. I'm not gonna lie, yes it's hard. And I need you by my side, too. But still, I wouldn't trade it for the world." You pressed your lips to his, before you whispered: "I love you. More than anything. And I'm gonna stay by your side, come hell or high water, for as long as you'll have me. So don't shut me out, or push me away and try to get me to leave. Because I won't."

Both of you were in tears by now, not even trying to stop it any more. Neither of you said anything else for a minute or two, instead you let your words settle.

Spencer cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away with his thumb. "I have no idea what I did to deserve you. How did I get so lucky?", he said softly and then brushed the pad of this thumb over your bottom lip.

You giggled. "That's my line."

He smiled and closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. "I love you", he breathed out against your lips before he kissed you again.

You smiled into the kiss. “I love you too.”

For few minutes the both of you just basked in the bliss of the moment; laying warm and content in each others arms, the soft sound of birds chirping outside the bedroom window and the promise of a delicious breakfast that was waiting for you.

And there was only one question left to ask.

“Eat in the kitchen or breakfast in bed?”

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 9

<-----part 8, part 10----->

When I woke up I could tell that DogDay had left. The bed smelled like him which made me miss him more. Having a broken ankle was not fun at all. I was given crutches but honestly who likes using those. Not me. And to make this worse; the doctor said I should heal up in four weeks. That’s right near Christmas time! He said as long as I keep my ankle elevated and follow his directions I should be all healed up in no time. Yay. 

--------------- 

I was on my phone texting my mom when someone knocked on my door. “Who is it?” “Hoppy!” Hoppy? That’s new. “Come in!” She opened the door and right away I saw that she had a basket with plushies and candy. “Brought you something; DogDay had all of us put together this ‘get well’ basket.” She placed the basket on the nightstand next to me. “That’s sweet of you all, thank you.” I reached over, picked up the basket and started looking through it. “Sorry about your ankle; I wasn’t in the theater room when it happened, but DogDay told me what happened.” “Yeah, it’s so weird that the day Bobby asked to be my understudy, I get injured so that she could take my place. I bet you she somehow spoke to the universe to send a storm over and have the power go out.” I spoke while opening a piece of candy. “The power went out? That’s odd. All the lights were on everywhere else in Playcare.”  

When she said that I almost choked on the candy that I had just put in my mouth. “What did you say?” Hoppy looked confused but she said what she had said just a second ago. “Yeah...the power didn’t go out.” I sat in silence and started thinking. The power didn’t go out; so that means someone cut the power in the room. But what about the trap door? It was closed the whole time and would’ve made a noise when it opened.... The thunder. It was really loud and someone must’ve been waiting for that to happen in order to open the door without anyone hearing it. This was planned. 

I started to clench my fists in anger. “Y/N? You okay?” Hoppy sat down at the end of my bed. “This was all planned! Haha oh my gosh.... Bobby. She did this. She cut the lights, she opened the trap door, hell she even placed a spider on top of my head!” I started laughing historically. Bobby just looked at me with her eyes wide open. “Y’know what? I could totally see her doing something like that. She's not keen on someone trying to steal her 'man' from her. Especially since you and DogDay are getting close.” She clicked her tongue and moved her eyebrows up and down.  

My face started to feel warm. “We’re just friends!” Hoppy then started to laugh and pound her fist on the bed. “Uh huh sure~ When you’re not here DogDay talks about you nonstop! It’s cute but can get tiring.” She laughed while saying that last part. “He talks about me? What does he say?!” “Nope; can’t say. I’m sworn to secrecy by my leader and friend.” I playfully rolled my eyes at her.  

--------------- 

Hoppy and I chatted for a little bit longer before she had to go back to rehearsal. When she left, I was all alone for like five seconds and then my phone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my mother. I took a deep breath in before answering her call. “Hi mom.” “Y/N M/N L/N what’s this I hear that you broke your ankle?!” “Oh thanks mom I’m doing fine thanks for asking.” I could hear my mom sigh through the phone. “Y/N I’m serious! All you texted your father was that you broke your ankle and that’s it! You didn’t even tell me your own mother!”  

I was thankful that she couldn't see my face right now. I know my mother meant well but she was just so over barring. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how you would react and guess what? This is exactly how I pictured it.” “I’m not going to argue with you. Where are you right now?” “Um...work?” I had to pull the phone away from my face because my mothers voice got louder. “You’re at work! Young lady you shouldn’t be at work. You should be at home so someone can look after you.” “I live alone mom, and besides I have doctors here to look after me.” And DogDay. “Where do you work that has doctors on board?” “Playtime mom.”  

I stopped listining to her because the door started to open and DogDay poked his head in. I waved at him to come in. “Hey mom-listen I’ll call you back one of the doctors just came in.” “Well then put me on the phone with them I want to have a word with them because-” Click. “Oh no we got disconnected.” I laughed and set my phone on the nightstand. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your call Angel.” DogDay walked over to me and pulled up a chair. “Oh no you weren’t interrupting at all.” We both chuckled. DogDay was resting his head on his paw as he looked at me. “I missed you Angel.” I smiled and said, “I missed you too. How was rehearsal?” DogDay sighed before saying, “Long. Especially now that BB is in it.” I thought about telling him that I’m most likely like this because of her, but I also didn’t know how he would take the news. They were all supposed to be friends. 

“CatNap wanted me to tell you that he hopes you’ll recover soon. Oh, and that he hopes that he didn’t scare you when you fell.” I didn’t remember seeing him around me. “He was there?” “Mhm, he’s the one that put you to sleep. He’s not really a fan of seeing anyone cry.” As I put two and two together it made sense. “Oh, I totally forgot that he has the sleeping gas.” DogDay nodded.  

“Where’s Damian at? I miss the little kiddo.” “He’s in the counselors office with Mrs. Stella I think.” Odd. I wondered what he was doing in there. “You look a little down Angel.” “Hm? Oh no I'm just bored.” “Hmm...Ah ha! I’ll be right back Angel.” Before I could ask where he was going, he zoomed out of the room. Double odd. 

--------------- 

Half an hour went by and DogDay had yet to come back. I could feel myself starting to get sleepy when a knock jolted me up. “C-come in!” As the door opened, in stepped in DogDay; wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope, and a clip board. A huge grin appeared on my face.  

“Good evening, Angel, I am doctor DogDay here to do a check up on you.” I chuckled at how silly and cute this was. DogDay walked over to me and placed his clip board down. “First things first I will be listening to your heart.” You’d expect him to use the stethoscope but no. He leaned down and pressed his ear against my chest. I froze and felt my face heat up. “Mhm heart rate is a little elevated.” “I wonder why haha....” DogDay moved away from my chest and scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Next your temperature.” His paw moved to my forehead and rested there for a few seconds. “A little warm.” DogDays paw then slid down to my cheek and he rubbed his thumb there while asking me some questions. “Elevated heart and warm face, can you think of why this may be happening Angel?”  

I just stared blankly at him. “I-I um couldn’t say.” DogDay nodded his head and went to go write something else down. “Well Angel, there’s only one thing that could describe these symptoms.” “Oh? And what’s that?” His other paw grabbed onto my face and pulled me closer to his. My heart started beating faster and faster as my face got close to his. I closed my eyes not knowing what to expect. “Mwah.” He kissed my nose. I fluttered my eyes open not expecting that. “You have a crush on me~” I chuckled nervously. “Whaaat?” “Don’t deny is Angel.” I tried thinking of something, anything! But couldn’t. I sighed in defeat and nodded. “I do.”  

DogDays tail started wagging. “Well Angel I think you’ll be happy to know that I too, have a crush on you.” I smiled widely and pulled him into a hug. “Haha, oh I would’ve been crushed if it was one sided.” “Me too Angel. Thankfully Hoppy told me today after she visited you.” I pulled back and looked at him. “Hoppy?! She told you? I didn’t even say anything to her!! What did she say?!!” “Sorry Angel, I was sworn to secrecy.” I fell back onto the bed and laughed while shaking my head. “You guys and your secrecy.” We both laughed and spent the rest of the day together; now knowing that we both liked each other. 

A/N: Yay he likes us back!!! Next chapter is the show!!

[coolyiooo]

BSD Men Dealing With Your Mood Swings

parings: Dazai, Fyodor, and Chuuya

First time writing something other than smut 😶🔫

🖤DAZAI🖤

You were having a bad day, not only because you started your period but also some drama was happening between some friends of yours, so you were ranting to your boyfriend while driving. He was being the passenger princess.

"And then she was all like ' that's none of your business ' "

"Oh shit-" he said with a hand over his mouth, actually invested with your tea

"I know! And I was like-"

You suddenly heard one of your favorite songs playing on the radio

"Hold on- babe, this song is my jammm"

You started to vibe with the music and sing long with it, completely forgetting about your drama you had earlier in the day.

Dazai was a bit baffled but he started to laugh at how your mood just did a whole 360. He actually started to vibe with the music with you.

Another day, another pain of suffering of cramps, hormones, and blood 🤢 you were mad, annoyed, disgusted, and sad all at once. You literally just arrived at the ADA office and immediately said, in a monotoned voice

"I'm going to hang myself" And sat down

Everybody in the office was a bit worried and confused, they all faced Dazai to see if he'll comfort you and be a good bf but all he said was

"I'd never thought I'd hear you say those words" he had stars in his eyes.

Everybody gave him a disgusted look and he could feel it. He chuckled nervously and said

"I- I mean why don't I go to the store to buy all the snacks you want!"

" Aweeee thanks babe!"your mood immediately changed.

Dazai mentally gave himself a high five.

When work was over you were comfortable in the couch, covered in blankets, heat pad on your stomach, and reading your book. Everything was perfect when suddenly your boyfriend came in. You gave him an intense side eye and he immediately noticed.

"Uh- what's wrong, princess?"

"I need you to leave" you said straight up with no remorse.

For a second he looked a bit shocked, wondering if he did something. You felt bad but suddenly saw how pretty he was, so you used that as an excuse to let him down easy.

"your distracting me with your beauty" You went back to reading your book

He was baffled once again but then was flattered and smiling to himself. He left the room to yourself. He was a bit taken aback by the aggressive, flirting comment but a win is a win.

He'll try his best to comfort you during these times. I feel like sometimes he's the reason your mood is just sky rocketing all over the place, but he'll make up for it.

💜FYODOR💜

You were literally being a couch potato. Covered in blankets but also chips, crumbs, and snacks.Fyodor came in the room and saw the mess you surrounded yourself in.

"My dear, is it too much to ask for you to clean up after yourself?"

"Shut up your anemic" you retorted back with no sympathy.

Nikolai was in the same room as you two were in and tried his best not to burst out laughing . You realized what you just said and immediately began laughing. Fyodor was slightly taken by surprise by your bold comment but his face showed no emotions except for 'you better stop if you know what's good for you'.When you noticed his face, you immediately stopped laughing. Fyodor then walked towards you, you were starting to get scared

"w-wait! I'm on my period I'm sorry!"

He stopped in front of you "yes, I can see my love"

"I- ...I'm sorry" you said timidly

He looked back at you with dark eyes "just clean up after yourself, darling" he kissed your forehead and left the room.

"Your lucky he loves you" Nikolai commented

Later that same day you were laying your head on Fyodor's lap as he was petting your hair, reading a book. You were staring at his legs and randomly said

"You have very pretty legs, they look like they belong to a woman"

He immediately stopped what he was reading and looked at you. You stared back at him.

"I meant that as a compliment of course. I mean your just very beautiful"

He stared back at you with a hint of concern, but then reverted back to a straight face

"My dear, just go back to sleep" he said, gently scratching your head

Next day you were sitting on the bed, late at night, reading a book. Fyodor came in and stared at you. He was just surprised you were still awake but you felt judged.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You said in a bratty tone

"Am I... Really that ugly?" You asked with curiosity and started to feel a bit down

He closed his eyes and deeply sighed "of course not, my love. Your more than beautiful" he sat next to you on the bed

"How so?" You pouted

He gently stared into your eyes "Your captivating, enchanting, and even pulchritudinous"

(Yes, that's a real word)

You didnt even know what that last word meant but since it sounded pretty, you felt flattered. You hugged his arm and kissed his cheek.

"Ugh thanks, Fedya. I love you" you had a smile on your face and snuggled close to his chest.

He smiled slightly "I love you more" he said, kissing the top of your head.

He usually doesn't take whatever you say seriously during these days just because of your mood swings and how this isn't what you'd normally do or say, but he'll still try to make it bearable for you and a little for him as well. You should definitely give him a thank you for dealing with your bs.

🧡CHUUYA🧡

He already knew you started you period. He low-key seems like the guy to track it down and stuff so he bought you a bunch of snacks. Usually when your on your period he cuddles with you so when he arrived at your shared place he went to go look for you. He found you laying flat on your face on the bed.

"Hey babe, how are you feeling?"

You responded by soft groaning

"Awe I'm sorry baby, I got you your favorite snacks. I hope that makes you feel better" he laid the bag down on the night stand.

He saw that you weren't moving, and out of sympathy, he touched your head.

"Don't touch me" you mumble in a strict tone

Normally he would probably be concerned but he understands that it's just your period talking and understands you probably just want to be alone.

"I'm sorry, let me know if you need anything" He said before making his way out the room

You lifted your head up looking back at him "wait, where are you going?" Your tone sounding sad "don't go"

He was confused but then you reached your arms out to him.

"I change my mind please cuddle with me" you said almost as an order

Your change in tone and mood startled him. He didn't want to make it worse by disobeying your order so he cuddled with you. You started playing with his hair and scratching his head. His thoughts were that he's the one supposed to help you relax not the other way around but the more you looked at him the more you realized just how literally gorgeous the man was.

"Chuuya, your so prettyyy" you said while kissing his cheek

He was starting to blush "the more I look at you the more breath taking you get" you then smothered him with kisses.

A moment ago you were literally not wanting any physical touch and now look at you, you can't keep your hands off him. Not like he's complaining though, but he's definitely struggling to keep up with your mood swings.He was about to respond back to you with compliments, but you then stopped your kissing and said

"now let me sleep I'm tired" you patted his chest gently and rolled out of his arms. Now he was just dazed.

He'll try to make you the happiest he can during your days of the month overall and you should definitely give him your gratitude for being a good bf

[cozage]

ahh! Sorry, I just saw your rules, I'll re-create the request!! Please answer this one instead of the recent one! <3 sorry for the bother.

Can you do hcs for luffy, ace and shanks, when their s/o pranks them by texting them "he's gone, you can come over now xx" Fem!reader :)) I love your writings btw! Don't overwork yourself and take your time!

A/N: I’m pretty sure you put Sabo in the first one but not in this request. but Sabo??? The guy who trapped someone in a burning building because he bad-mouthed Ace..that Sabo??? Clinically insane Sabo????? in this scenario???? I needed it. If you didn't mean to put Sabo the first time, then enjoy the freebee

Characters: F! reader x Luffy, Ace, Shanks, Sabo

Cw: a little angst, a few are kinda suggestive 

Total word count: 700

Prank Text

Luffy

Literally it would go over his head. He’s so secure in his love for you and your love for him that he wouldn’t even comprehend what you’re trying to do. 

“What do you mean come over I just left???”

“Did you even send that to the right person???”

“Anyways see you tomorrow! Have fun with whoever you’re hanging out with!”

The next day he would ask how your evening was, and when you tell him it was a failed attempt at a prank he would just scratch his head and be like “you’re funny” and laugh it off. He still doesn't get what you were trying to do, but if it made you laugh, that's enough for him.

Ace

You put the phone down just for one minute after sending it. Just one. But when you come back to it, there's 10 texts and 5 phone calls. 

“Who???” “What???” “Y/n????” “Can you tell me what's going on?” “Who is coming over?” “Was that meant for me??” “Please pick up i need to talk to you”

Before you can even read them all, your phone starts buzzing again. It’s Ace. You answer, deciding that one minute was enough torture for the poor boy. 

“Hey!” you say, super cheery. “Who’s coming over?” Ace asked immediately. 

“Uh, nobody, actually! It was a prank, that’s all!” you reply. “Oh.” You can hear the sadness in his voice, he doesn’t believe you.

“You can come back if you don’t believe me,” you say. You feel bad about it now.

 “No, no, I trust you. It just scared me. I just thought…” he trails off. “You thought it was for another guy?” you finish. His silence tells you that your guess was right. 

“I’m sorry Ace, please come back. It was just a joke. I want you here. Movie marathon?” you asked, hoping to get his spirits back up. He reluctantly agreed. 

You all didn’t end up watching too many movies, but at least he came back. 

Shanks

This bastard would play right along back. Just flip the table on you. 

“Good ♡ I just left. Wear something spicy 😘”

That would result in you calling him. He picks up on the second ring, making you wait just a minute. “What the hell do you mean wear something spicy?” You demand.

“Trying to get me riled up, huh?” he smirks, knowing that you’ve played your hand now and that he’s succeeded in flipping it around. 

“Shanks!” you pout. “That’s not funny!”

He laughs at you over the phone. “I meant what I said. I’m canceling my plans. Wear something spicy. Be home in five.” He hangs up without another word

When he gets home, he sure does make you regret sending that text in the first place (or…maybe not). 

Sabo

You smirk when you see your phone buzzing. Of course Sabo’s immediate response was to call. Better to let him simmer in it. You put your phone down and pick up a book to read.

He calls again, and you ignore him again. Five minutes later he calls again. Ten minutes later he calls. You still ignore him. 

After about 45 minutes, there’s a knock on the door. You open it to find Sabo there, glaring at you. 

“It was a joke wasn’t it?!?” he demanded, and you busted out laughing. 

“Not funny!” he said. “I waited outside in the parking lot for an hour to beat up on any guy that even walked by your apartment!”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “You did not,” you hissed, shoving him playfully. “I did!” he shot back. “I almost beat a delivery guy with the spare pipe in my car because he looked at your door!”

“Sabo!” you gasped. You couldn’t help but giggle at him and his possessiveness of you. 

He grinned, more boastful than embarrassed. “Since I’m here anyway…wanna go get dinner?”

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - 4

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Hi, time for more, arguably making things better, but also arguably making things much worse.

----

There was a diner a block and a half from their apartment. Steve found it when the sky opened up during his jog one morning. Snow, he could have handled, he was dressed for it. Slushy sleet mixed with hail was another matter. He ducked inside to hide until it passed, chatted with the owner for a bit, and brought Robin with him the next day because they had an amazing spread of waffle toppings, including crumbled bacon, and Steve knew she’d go crazy about it.

He was correct, and it was their go to spot, not just for breakfast. 

At the end of January, Rebecca sat down to join them, and handed Steve an application. 

Steve was already working at a JC Penny in the stock room, and picked up a few hours at a roller rink filling in when someone called out. They had enough money to live. Not decadently, but they could cover all their bills, and keep gas in the car, and buy supplies for Robin’s classes.  

“Uh, Rebecca, I’m- thank you? But. My memory sucks, and my hearing isn’t great, and if someone starts getting rude, I’m going to get rude back to them, and --”

“This is a diner, hun,” she stopped him, “You write the orders down, you can always tell someone to say it again, and the fact you can shut down anyone that gives you lip is why I think you’ll be good at it. Like I said, it’s a diner. We don’t have to be all sunshine and daisies here.”

“I’m working at another--”

“Over at the mall and the rink, I know. And I know you’re free Monday through Wednesday mornings. And,” she stressed, “staff gets free meals and first dibs on the day olds.”

“Dingus!" Robin gasped and grabbed his arm. "Do it, do it. Stevie. Please, oh my god, please, you have to take it. You can bring me the brioche buns. And that apple butter. And that thing with the nuts! Steeevveee, don’t you love your soulmate? Please? I cou--”

So Steve took the job, and worked a few mornings a week. By the third week of February, he stopped feeling like he was going to fuck up any second. He understood why Rebecca liked his ability to get bitchy in the face of difficult customers, and he and Robin had cupboards well stocked with random take homes. 

He liked it. Starting at five in the morning took some getting used to, but he was done by one, and traded off with a middle aged mom named Susan after the lunch rush settled down. Was it a ton of money? No. But he got more tips than he expected to, and the brioche really was delicious. 

The last week of February, he was working alone on a Tuesday, at the start of the lunch rush, expecting Susan to arrive soon, and an easy day. 

“Be with you in a minute,” he called to whoever just came inside, bussing half a dozen empty plates from table two after dropping off more creamer at table four. He looped back, ducking behind the counter to put the plates on the pass through for Nick to grab. 

He dropped the entire stack before he got there.

His hands clenched down, his muscles locked, and even though it should have made him hold harder, everything slipped, and either shattered on the tiles or banged into his feet.

Jim Hopper winced from his seat at the counter. “Sorry, kid.”

The couple of other diners glanced up to check on him, and John looked around the window from the kitchen. Steve didn’t move. Couldn't. Could barely breathe.

“Is it back?”

“No.”

His exhale shook out of him before he shoved down the panic.

“Then whatever this is can wait.” 

“I’m just here to talk.”

“And I said it can wait.”

He swept up the broken dishes, shrugged off John’s silent offer to throw Hopper out, and reminded himself there was no reason to think that the Upside Down was back. That meant this was going to be more awkward and less dangerous, and he was going to hate it, but it was still the better version of the day. 

“What’ll you have?” 

“Kid, I’m here to talk cause I didn’t think you’d want me at your place.”

“And I’m at work, and this is a diner, so what’ll you have?”

“Steve--”

“I’ll bring you coffee. I’m not talking about this while I’m working.”

“Coffee’s good. When are you off?”

Steve gave his bitchiest smile, didn’t answer, and went to seat the couple that just walked in. 

The lunch rush was a mercy. Susan handled Hopper, and gave him the iciest service anyone had ever gotten under that roof. Hopper took it gracefully, but he didn’t shift, or push, or give any indication that he wasn’t willing to sit there til midnight if he had to. 

Normally, Steve would get some lunch to go and head home. If the weather was bad, he ate at the booth in the corner to wait it out. With the way his stomach was twisting, unable to separate Hopper from what his arrival could mean, he wasn’t going to keep food down. He filled a glass of water, then silently gestured Hop to follow. 

“Good to see you, Steve,” he said when they sat. “You and Robin doing okay up here?”

“We’re fine. Why are you here? If it isn’t something to do with, you know, then why are you here?”

“Maybe I just came up to check on you.”

“Did you?” Steve snorted into his drink when that question made Hopper’s face twist up. “So what is this?”

“I am here to check on you. There’s something else, but I came here because I’m checking on you. Me and you weren’t all that close, but you had Mrs Buckley give me your info so I’d know where you were.”

“Yeah, in case of an emergency. And you said there wasn’t any emergency. Plus, you had my phone number, so you could have called, which would be way less weird than showing up while I’m at work, you know?”

Hopper scratched at his cheek. “It’s not an emergency compared to all the reasons you wanted me to be able to find you, but if you ask those kids, this may as well be the end of the world again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, well. Henderson is gonna get himself arrested if he keeps trying to steal the mail and find something addressed to you. Max keeps pushing El to try and find you. The only reason they haven’t gone completely crazy is because of the Buckleys telling them that you’re fine. She gave me your address and number, and she talked for a little bit about the kids.” 

Steve smiled at that. Mrs Buckley had never talked a ‘little bit’ about anything in her life. Either she was holding the line on being rude to anyone that might bother them, or Hop was pretending he hadn’t listened to a solid hour of rambling.  

“Still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Want to ask if I can -- shit, I don’t know. I can route mail back and forth so they never have your address or something. I’d rather give them your info so I don’t have to be involved, but I already know you won’t agree to that.”

Steve ignored the pause that Hopper left there. Conversation and good manners said he should concede to something so he wouldn’t inconvenience the man too much. The last month with Robin supporting his choice kept his mouth shut. She’d be pissed at him if he folded, and worse, she’d help him get through all the pain it caused if he did talk to the kids again. Then he’d feel guilty and sad. 

“Alright,” Hopper grumbled, “Didn’t think you would, but you know how those kids can be. Can’t fault me for trying.”

“So, we’re done? You sat here all this time just to talk for three minutes?”

“Almost.” 

“So….” At least Steve could enjoy the fact that neither of them were enjoying this.  Hopper winced a bit before he spoke. 

“I didn’t tell any of the kids I was coming up to see you. None of them knew, and none of them are gonna know. Didn’t even tell Joyce why, just that I was driving up to Indy. Already had a plan in case they tried to tail me up here. So, had a surprise this morning when I got to my truck. it might change your answer.”

“Didn’t know you were so dramatic about stuff.”

“Side effect of two hours with that surprise, I guess. Eddie Munson came up with me.”

Any of the kids would have hurt. 

Henderson might have made him cry. 

Eddie Munson? That didn’t make sense. 

They weren’t friends, never had been. The Upside Down meant they were connected, but they were never more than acquaintances, even when Steve was desperately trying to keep them all close. Sure, he’d taken over as the chauffeur for the kids, and everyone’s new best friend, but that didn’t explain why he’d bother to come up to talk to Steve. 

“What the hell? Why?”

“He asked.”

“And you said yes.”

“He said please.”

That was not the whole story. There was something getting skipped over, left out. Hopper tolerated Munson, but he wouldn’t do him a favor if there wasn’t some kind of monster involved. 

“Wait, you’ve been here for two hours.”

“Yep.”

“Did you just leave him in your truck this whole time? That front came through overnight. The high is thirty four today.”

“Yeah, I did,” Hopper said flatly. “He told me he wanted to come up so he could talk to you. Told me a little bit about why. And I said yes and I let him come, but I told him that I was gonna talk to you first. If you said no, he was gonna stay in that seat clear back to Hawkins, and keep his mouth shut about this whole thing.”

“How’d he know what you were doing?”

“No clue.”

“What does he want to talk about?”

“Not gonna say it for him.” Hopper shifted towards the edge of the booth. “So, want me to tell him to buckle back up, or tell him to get his ass in here?”

A quick consult with the imaginary Robin in his head left him just as confused, but curious as hell. He agreed, and fidgeted with a napkin, struggling to think of any reason why Eddie Munson would want to talk to him, or what the hell he said that the kids hadn’t that convinced Hopper to drive him up. 

Stuck in his head, Steve jumped when a mess of a man in denim and leather slid shivering into the seat opposite. The scars on his face and hands were less vivid than they were last time they saw each other, but they still worked as a thermometer. Steve's did the same.

“Why the hell were you sitting in the cold, man?”

Eddie blinked, and froze where he was rubbing his hands together trying to get feeling back. “Hopper took the keys.”

Steve’s turn to blink. This was the guy taking care of his kids. 

“Susan?” He called, gesturing for two when she lifted the coffee carafe in a question.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here or why you care or what the hell is happening, but I’m not gonna let you sit there shaking cause you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what gloves are.”

Steve watched packet after packet of sugar pour into Eddie’s, while he stirred a splash of half and half into his own cup. Eddie took a gulp, hissed at the heat, and clutched at the mug, eyes glued to the nicked surface of the table. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For rotting your teeth out? That’s your choice, Munson.”

“No,” Eddie insisted, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry about the kids.”

Steve took a breath, took a sip, took another breath. “Look, man, that’s not on you. You play D&D with them, and you like all their nerdy shit. I was -- They grew up. We got through everything, all of that, we won, and they grew up. It’s not your fault that they like you more than they liked me. So, thanks, I guess, but--”

“Steve. No. They didn’t. They -- those kids did not suddenly grow up and decide they didn’t like you anymore. You are their favorite person anywhere, ever, you will be for the rest of eternity, and they don’t understand why no one will tell them how to reach you. They put on a really good show about being mad about it, but, come on, you know what they’re like. They want to apologize cause they know they hurt you, and they want to fix it, and just, you gotta let them try, Steve. You gotta let them talk to you. They miss you so fucking much.”

“Look, I know how they get, and I know how dramatic they are, but it’s still not your fault--”

“It is. Steve. It is my fault. That’s - That’s why you have to talk to them. Cause they didn’t grow up and get over you or decide they didn’t care about you. Those kids are crazy about you, and they never stopped, and they’re hurt right now cause they don’t understand why you left them, and you gotta fix it with them, please.”

Something pinged weird in his ear when he heard the way Munson’s voice cracked. Not just worry, not just helping, not just caring about the kids. Guilt. He was taking the blame for it, even though that didn’t make any sense. The kids were - brats, gremlins, terrors, the most stubborn people he’d ever met, and he knew Nancy Wheeler. If they wanted to be around him, they would be around him. 

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, or anyone’s fault. It hurt like hell, and Steve wished it wasn’t true, but this was just life. Kids grew up, their interests moved. Friendships changed and ended. 

But that crack of guilt…

“How is it your fault and not theirs that they stopped wanting to ever see me?”

Eddie’s hands stopped shaking from the cold before he got the coffee. 

His hands were shaking again.

Trembled in the time between Steve asking, and Eddie managing to respond.  

“I, uh, I asked them to.”

----

Don't be too mad at him yet. He has a lot more to say.

Part Five >>>

[zhounauts]

TANKINI DREAMING — YANG JUNGWON wc 923 warnings cursing pairing lifeguard!jungwon x fmr

a day at the beach always meant the nostalgic smell of banana boat sunscreen lotion, burning hot sand, and memories of when you were younger, clad in a tankini strutting around in an attempt to seduce the life guard.

yeah. not your proudest moment.

but here you were again, standing underneath the beach umbrella, smelling of banana boat sunscreen, and definitely not in a tankini. you were older now, wiser, and 100% less likely to strut around the beach trying to seduce lifeguards out of your league.

as you settle onto your beach towel, in attempts to get tan, your sister stomps over to you, her small stature blocking the sun from hitting you. “what.” you grumble.

“stop being boring!” she huffs, “let’s go into the water!!”

”let me tan,” you mutter back, “shoo, go play in the sand yourself,”

“NO!” she exclaims, “let’s go into the water!! please please please please please please—”

“alright! i get it! shut up please,” you grumble again, standing up from your towel. you sigh, looking wistfully, at your towel before turning away to follow your sister who’s already atleast ten feet ahead of you. “hey! wait up!”

the water is cold despite the blazing hot weather, and you chatter as your legs touch the crashing waves. your sister however, is seemingly unaffected as she throws herself in, giggling as the waves splash onto her. you can’t help but smile at this as you wade in deeper, plans of revenge brewing in your head.

without a warning, you grab your sister, hoisting her up and then tossing her into the sea with a splash. she arises, kicking and sputtering, but there’s a smile on her face. she dives at you, and you laugh as she tackles you down into the water, only for you to wrestle her away from you. “uh uh,” you smile, “you’re still too weak for me,”

“i’ll take you—” she starts, only to be cut off by a wave dragging her underneath, and throwing her back up right into you. you laugh at her hair, drenched and stuck to her face as she angrily grumbles at you. the whistle blares through the beach, and you whip around back at shore to see who it’s aimed at.

but you immediately lose interest in this when you see the lifeguard. he is probably the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes upon, and you even want to apologize to him for looking without permission. you suddenly feel like younger you, in a tankini, and dreaming of rizzing up the lifeguard. maybe, just maybe, this time you could actually—

“STOP LOOKING AT MEN I'LL TELL DAD!” your sister squeals, tossing a big scoop of saltwater at you, causing you to sputter and screech.

“YAH!” you exclaim, “you’re so dead!”

despite being only 18, after an hour of rough-housing in the ocean, and fighting the waves with your incredibly hyper sister, it is safe to say that you are pooped and absolutely done with movement for the rest of the day.

“i’m clocking out,” you groan sitting on the edge of the shore.

“you’re old,” your sister complains, “five more minutes!”

“nope, nope NOPE,” you tell her, “get out and we get ice cream, or i get out you stay and no ice cream,”

“you should’ve said that earlier!” she exclaims, “ice cream!!! i want a scoop of cookie monster, chocolate, and vanilla!”

“alright you ravenous beast,” you tell her, “just please let me get out of the damn water. . .”

your sister bounds out of the water, the thought of ice cream acting as new found energy for her. you groan, trailing slowly behind her.

“tired?’ you snap your head up in surprise, turning to the left of you. you’re met with the lifeguard stand, where four guys stand around. yet, it’s the gorgeous lifeguard you noticed earlier talking to you.

“yeah,” you answer, “i can’t keep up with that anymore,”

he laughs.

“so,” you start, “did you need something?” you ask, before quickly clapping your hand over your mouth, “sorry, that came out like really rude,”

“no, it’s okay,” he smiles, “uhm, well—”

“he thinks you’re cute!!” another lifeguard calls.

“he wants your number!”

“he wants to be your boy—”

“HEY SHUT UP!” the boy screams, whipping around at his friends. you hear the three of them giggle in the background, “sorry about them. i’m jungwon by the way,”

“i’m yn,” you smile, “i heard you think i’m cute?”

“will i get your number if i say yes?”

“well why don’t you find out?” you grin. jungwon laughs, pulling his phone out from his back pocket to hand it to you. you click your tongue.

“too natural jungwon,” you say, “you do this to other girls as well?” his eyes widen.

“what!? no—”

“just joking,” you laugh, quickly typing in your contact details in. you hand back his phone, and he grins at the contact you set up.

“how long are you going to be here for?”

“whole summer,” you answer.

“perfect,” he tells you, “i’ll—”

“YN STOP TALKING TO MEN!!” your little sister screeches from behind, “DAD—”

“AYE! you little shit you better—” you yell, diving towards your sister to cover her mouth.

“get me ice cream,” she smiles. you glare at her, but you sigh and give up, letting your sister drag you away. you turn back to smile apologetically at jungwon, who smiles as well, before he mouths something to you.

i’ll text you.

and i’ll text you back

ׂ╰┈➤ TANKINI DREAMING GENRE fluff PAIRING lifeguard!jungwon x f!reader WARNINGS cursing networks @a-dream-bookmark a/n its april, the fourth month, and the fourth of july is in summer, so basically it's summer!! (can you tell i'm REALLY manifesting summer)

copyright © zhounauts 2024

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Blue - Oct 13 - @rosekillermicrofic - 798 words - Warnings: none

Though he would never admit it to anyone, Barty was a little bit devastated to be sorted into Ravenclaw. He’d been hoping for Slytherin, of course — he expected Regulus and Evan to be in Slytherin, like the rest of their respective families. His name came first, though, and the Sorting Hat told him he was to be a Ravenclaw.

He supposed it made sense, in retrospect. He had always enjoyed learning, something for which his father used to credit him. His intelligence was the only thing his father ever complimented. Still, watching both Evan and Regulus get sorted into Slytherin together and get to sit at the same table during the welcoming feast had Barty feeling a little lonely. Luckily, Evan’s twin sister Pandora had been sorted into Ravenclaw with him, and she sat next to him for the meal.

As the years passed, Barty grew used to being a Ravenclaw, and he began to feel proud about his house. He still got to see Evan and Regulus all the time; it took him barely any time at all to goad one of them into giving him the Slytherin common room password. He enjoyed his fellow Ravenclaws more than he expected to, although most of that was due to Pandora’s influence. She made friends with people and introduced them to Barty, and then they became Barty’s friends too.

Evan and Barty started hooking up in year five. Regulus had made prefect, which meant he spent most evenings patrolling the halls with his fellow prefects, leaving Evan and Barty alone in the Slytherin dorms. It was unseasonably warm for the spring, despite them being in the dungeons, and Barty had taken off his robe and his tie, discarding both on the floor carelessly. He and Evan were supposed to be studying, but Barty didn’t want to focus and Evan kept getting distracted by something.

“What’s wrong, Evan?” Barty asked, reaching up to undo the top buttons of his school shirt. Evan’s eyes locked on his throat as the skin was revealed, and Barty smirked as he realized what was happening.

Afterwards, after Reg had come back to the dorm to kick Barty out, when Barty was walking dazedly back to his own dormitory, he realized that while he remembered to grab his discarded robe, he had forgotten to retrieve his tie. He shrugged it off; after all, he saw Evan and Reg every day. He also had multiple ties.

The following day, on his way to breakfast, Barty walked all the way down to the Slytherin dorms to wait for Regulus and Evan to be ready (they always took far longer than Barty ever did in the morning). He figured he could just ask one of them to go back for the tie he left, preferably Evan, because Regulus would ask too many questions about how he ended up leaving the tie behind in the first place. When the door to Slytherin finally opened, though, it was only Evan who came out.

“Hey, Barty,” he greeted, and he was still doing up his tie as he walked out into the dungeon hallway. And then he stepped close enough to Barty for him to see the details of the tie — and Barty’s brain blacked out for a hot second.

Evan was wearing his fucking tie. Blue and bronze complimented Evan’s skin tone so beautifully that for a moment Barty wondered why the Sorting Hat couldn’t have just put Evan in Ravenclaw so that they could all see the gorgeous tone of blue against Evan’s dark skin every single day. Barty had completely zoned out to focus only on Evan’s long fingers as the blue and bronze fabric slid through them, finally finishing and tightening the knot at the base of his throat.

“Barty?” Evan questioned, and Barty snapped his head back up to meet his eyes. Evan’s brows were furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Barty said ineloquently. “You’re, uh, wearing my tie. I left it behind last night.”

Evan’s eyes went comically wide, then he was ducking his chin all the way down to look at the tie around his neck. “Oh, Merlin, I am. Fuck. I’ll have to go back for another.”

Barty hated that idea — Evan should never fucking take it off. “Actually, I don’t think the professors will really notice. I didn’t, until you came close to me.”

Evan looked back at him through his lashes with a little smirk, and it was a struggle not to take him back to his dorm room to repeat what they had done last night. Barty wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Evan had planned this all along. “Okay, Bee,” Evan said, smoothing his hand over the blue tie. “I’ll keep it on, for you.”

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 12

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If it's meant to be, then it will be,"

summary: you and Joel preparing to hot the road

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 12

previous | chapter 11

next | chapter 13

masterlist!

The days at Bill and Frank's had passed in a quiet rhythm, each one a small piece of normalcy that felt almost surreal after everything you and Joel had been through. You'd been here five days now, but it felt like you'd known this place much longer. Tomorrow was your birthday, and it also marked the beginning of your journey across the country with Joel—a journey that felt like the start of something new, something hopeful.

Joel had left earlier in the day, telling you he needed to get some supplies for the trip. He kissed you softly before he left, the kind of kiss that lingered on your lips long after he was gone. You had a feeling there was more to his errand, but you didn’t press him. Joel wasn’t one for surprises, but when he did plan something, it was always thoughtful, always meaningful.

In the meantime, you found yourself in the garden with Frank, helping him plant strawberries. The sun was warm on your back, the earth cool under your fingers as you worked. There was something soothing about the repetitive motion, the way the world seemed to shrink down to the small patch of soil in front of you.

“Ever done any gardening before?” Frank asked, breaking the silence. His voice was warm, with a hint of curiosity.

You smiled, shaking your head as you wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Not really. I mean, I helped my mom with her flowers when I was little, but nothing like this.”

Frank chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced over at you. “It’s good work. Honest work. Helps you clear your mind.”

You nodded, feeling the truth in Frank’s words as you pushed another seed into the earth. The simple act of planting, of giving life to something, grounded you in a way nothing else could. It narrowed the world down to the soil beneath your nails and the warmth of the sun on your back, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside you since you and Joel arrived.

“So, what did you do back in town?” Frank asked again, his tone light but tinged with curiosity. He worked beside you, his hands as steady and sure as his voice.

“I’m a senior in high school, but my dad is a preach--” you began, focusing on the task at hand. But before you could say more, Frank froze, his eyes widening as he turned to you with a look of concern.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re 17?” His voice held a mix of surprise and alarm.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the misunderstanding. “No, I’m not. I’m turning 20 uh soon,"

Frank let out a breath of relief, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Thank God. I almost wanted to strangle Joel if I found out he’d run off with someone underage.”

You laughed again, the sound lighter this time. “No, Joel’s a good man."

Frank nodded, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but he’s kind of stupid for running away with a girl younger than--” His tone was playful, but as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how they might come across. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You quickly shook your head, waving off his concern. “No, it’s fine. I get it too. Why would Joel risk everything for me? A girl way younger than him, and basically fucked up,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Frank’s expression softened, a mixture of empathy and regret. “Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said gently. “We’ve all got our shit. You’re just two people trying to make it in this messed-up world.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “I know, but sometimes it just feels like… I’m dragging him down. He could’ve had a normal life, maybe even with someone appropriate for him,”

Frank looked at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think he’d be happier with someone else?” he asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like Joel would move mountains for you. He doesn’t care about anything, or what anyone else thinks. He cares about you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand, but Frank wasn’t done.

“Love makes you do crazy things,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “I’ve seen it. People in love… they’ll give up everything just to be with the person they care about. They’d tear down their own world for the person, they’d walk through fire, go to the ends of the earth, just to keep them safe.”

"It’s not always logical, or easy, but it’s real." Frank said again.

You swallowed, feeling the truth of his words sink deep into your bones. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm worth all that risk."

Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Trust me, kid. If Joel’s willing to risk it all for you, then you’re worth it. And maybe, you’re exactly what he needs.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that let you breathe, let you think. You realized then that Frank understood more than you’d given him credit for. He knew what it was like to love someone so fiercely that nothing else mattered. And in that moment, you felt a little less alone.

Frank seemed to sense that you were lost in thought, so he gently steered the conversation back to where it had been. “You said your dad’s a preacher?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in topic. “I help him out with the church. It’s a small town, so everyone knows everyone. My dad’s been the preacher there for as long as I can remember.”

Frank nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “No wonder you're so religious," he said with a small smile, though his tone carried no judgment, just observation. "Growing up in a preacher's household, I imagine faith is second nature to you."

You shrugged lightly, fingers still playing in the soil, your thoughts a bit more tangled. “I guess so. It’s always been a big part of my life—going to church, helping out with the community. My dad… he has a way of making it seem like everything revolves around it.”

Frank gave a thoughtful nod, his hands pausing as he considered your words. “And what about you? Do you believe in all of it?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy and complex. You hadn’t expected such a direct inquiry, especially not from someone like Frank, who had seen more of life’s darkness than many.

You sighed, the weight of his question settling in your chest. “I don’t know,” you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“I used to believe in it all, every word, every sermon. But… sometimes I wonder. Why is it that someone who tries so hard to do right, to follow God’s teachings, ends up with a life full of pain and hardship?”

Frank watched you, his expression patient and understanding, the rhythm of your conversation slowing as if he knew you needed the space to sort through your thoughts.

“There were times,” you continued, “when it felt like no matter how much I prayed, how much I begged for things to get better, it was like my words just floated off into nothing. I’d ask for help, for some kind of sign that I wasn’t alone, that I wasn’t forgotten, but… nothing. It made me question everything. if God is there, why doesn’t He answer me? Why doesn’t He take away the pain?”

“I still pray, though” you said after a moment, your voice tinged with a fragile hope. “Because a part of me still wants to believe. Maybe God’s not silent. Maybe He’s just waiting for the right moment to answer. And maybe… He did answer, in a way."

"He gave me Joel. Maybe that’s God’s way of telling me that I’m not alone, that I haven’t been forgotten.”

Frank nodded, his gaze steady, absorbing everything you said. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” he said gently. “But you’re still here, still standing. That’s something.”

"I'm thankful for it," you smile.

Frank’s smile grew, his eyes warm with encouragement. “And don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re still young, still figuring things out. Life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight in your chest easing. “It does.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the garden around you humming with life. The earth beneath your fingers felt grounding, as if by planting these small seeds, you were also planting a piece of yourself, nurturing the hope that you could one day find peace, find home.

Frank broke the silence with a soft sigh, turning his gaze back to you. “So, what’s next for you and Joel? Do you have a plan?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” you said, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice. “We’re going to travel across the country, see the states. Joel said he wants to show me everything.”

Frank’s eyes twinkled with a mix of curiosity and warmth as he listened. “That sounds like quite the adventure,” he said, his tone gentle but encouraging. “Do you know where you’ll head first?”

“We’re thinking Kansas or Louisiana,” you replied, your mind drifting to the vast, unknown roads ahead. “After that, we’ll just go where the wind takes us. Eventually, we’re planning to settle down in California.”

Frank tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “California, huh? Big state. You aiming for the coast?”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, nothing like that. Joel’s always talked about wanting a ranch, somewhere quiet and peaceful. Maybe a place like Davis, where we can have some land, grow our own food. It’s… it’s like his dream, you know? Something simple, something ours.”

Frank smiled, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes. “A ranch in California… I can see that. Sounds like a good life. Quiet, surrounded by nature, away from all the chaos.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, the thought of that quiet life with Joel filling you with a sense of peace. “It’s what we both want. A place to finally call home.”

Frank chuckled, breaking the moment with a lightheartedness that was infectious. “Well, if you two end up with a ranch in California, I’ll expect a fresh batch of strawberries in the mail every month,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And if Joel starts getting grumpy, just remind him he promised to bake pies, not just grow the ingredients.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I’ll hold him to that. He’s got a lot of promises to keep.”

Frank’s smile softened, and he looked at you with a kind of admiration. “You know, it’s really good to see Joel like this,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “He’s been through a lot, and for the first time in a long time, he seems… happier. You’ve done something to him, and I don’t just mean in the obvious way.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Do you know much about his family? His late wife and daughter?”

Frank’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his features. “Wait, Joel hasn't told you that?"

You shook your head, feeling a slight twinge of concern in your chest. Frank's brows furrowed, clearly surprised that Joel hadn’t shared much about his past with you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, then sighed, a mix of hesitation and empathy in his eyes.

“It’s not really my place to tell you,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s something Joel needs to share with you himself. It’s… a part of his life that’s really hard for him to talk about. When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The unanswered questions lingered in your mind, but you knew better than to push. If Joel hadn’t brought it up yet, there had to be a reason.

***

After dinner, the house had settled into a calm quiet. Frank and Bill had retreated to their own space, leaving you and Joel alone in the cozy guest room where you’d been staying. The room was softly lit by the gentle glow of a bedside lamp, casting a warm and inviting light over everything.

You were curled up on the bed, absorbed in reading The Catcher in the Rye. The novel’s pages whispered tales of youthful rebellion and existential musings, a soothing contrast to the day's activities. The sound of Joel’s footsteps drew your attention, and you looked up as he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a comforting familiarity.

Joel had changed into a more relaxed outfit—simple trouser and a well-worn shirt—his rugged look softened by the evening’s relaxed atmosphere. He moved with a quiet grace, as if aware of the calm that enveloped the room.

You patted the space next to you on the bed, a silent invitation. “Come here,” you said softly, setting the book aside and making room for him.

Joel settled beside you, his weight pressing down gently on the mattress. He let out a contented sigh as you began to massage his shoulders, your fingers working out the tension from the day. The warmth of his body against yours was reassuring, a gentle reminder of the closeness you shared.

As you continued your soothing touch, your curiosity got the better of you. “So, what did you get for the supplies for tomorrow?” you asked, your voice a mix of casual interest.

Joel chuckled, his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “Brought some extra food, a few things we might need for the road. Should be enough for a couple of weeks if we need it. If we run low, we can always pick up more.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “And what time are we heading out tomorrow?”

“We’ll be hitting the road early,” Joel replied. “Trying to get a good start. We’ll be making our way across state lines, and we’ll probably stay in motels or hotels along the way.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation and adventure bubbling up inside you. “Where are we starting from?”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a spark of excitement in his gaze. “First stop is going to be Louisiana. We’ll decide as we go along, just see where the road takes us. We’ve got a route planned out, but we can always adjust it as we go.”

You smiled, the thought of your upcoming journey filling you with a blend of excitement and nostalgia. Tomorrow was supposed to be your graduation day—a milestone that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Instead of celebrating with friends and preparing for college, you were embarking on a journey across the country with Joel. It felt like you were stepping into a new world, leaving behind the familiar safety of the past.

As you lay there, your mind drifted to the life you were leaving behind. The road stretched out before you like a ribbon of possibilities, each mile a promise of new experiences and uncharted territories. The contrast between the expectations of a conventional future and the reality of your spontaneous adventure was both exhilarating and daunting.

Joel’s voice brought you back to the present. “You okay?” he asked, his tone gentle as he noticed the thoughtful look on your face.

You nodded, shifting closer to him. “Yeah, it’s crazy to think where we are now. I was supposed to graduate tomorrow,” you said, a wistful edge to your voice.

Joel's eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words sinking in. He remembered the first time he’d seen you by the river near the church, your solitude painting a poignant picture against the backdrop of your small town. Back then, you’d seemed like a fragile bird on the cusp of flight, your future an unwritten story stretching far beyond Texas.

A flicker of guilt crossed Joel’s face, his brow furrowing slightly. He knew he had taken you away from that life—the dreams and plans you had woven for yourself. The vast expanse of your potential future lay before you, like a sky brimming with stars, each one representing a possibility now momentarily eclipsed by your unexpected journey.

Joel’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. You had plans, dreams. I feel like I’ve taken you away from everything you were meant to do.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s cheek. “No, Joel, don’t say that,” you said softly. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault. I’m the one who feels like I’ve ruined your life. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, left everything behind.”

Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. You continued, your voice tinged with confusion and concern. “No one will notice I’m gone, but you—” you looked into his eyes, searching for the answer to a question you couldn’t quite grasp. “You have a family, a job, a life. Why risk it all for me?”

Joel's eyes held yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, his jaw tightening slightly before he spoke.

“It’s not about risking it all, darlin’,” Joel finally said, his voice low and steady. “It’s about choosing what matters most. Yeah, I had a life before you came along—a job, people I cared about—but none of it made me feel alive like you do. You’re not a risk; you’re a chance at something real, something worth fighting for.”

You could hear the sincerity in his words, but it was still hard for you to fully grasp why someone like him would put everything on the line for someone like you. “But I’ve caused so much trouble, Joel. I’ve taken you away from everything. How can you say I’m not ruining your life?”

Joel shook his head, his hand coming up to gently hold yours against his cheek. “You haven’t ruined anything. My life was already broken. But then you came into it, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a purpose again. You didn’t take me away from anything—I chose this. I chose you."

Your heart ached at his words, a mix of guilt and gratitude swirling inside you. "I'm sorry," you said once again.

Joel’s thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand as he held it against his cheek. His eyes softened, reflecting a depth of emotion that made your breath catch. “You don’t need to be sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice tender but firm. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his eyes making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before. It wasn’t just that he was here with you—it was that he chose to be, every day, every moment.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to let you down.”

He sighed softly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “You could never let me down, sweetheart. We’re in this together, okay? No more apologies, no more guilt. Just us, figuring it out as we go.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. “Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “Just us.”

Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back slightly. “That’s right. Just us.”

For a moment, you both stayed like that, the world outside your small room fading away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “Joel... do you ever think about them? About Jane and Sarah?”

Joel’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his body tense under your touch. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice low. “Every day.”

You hesitated, your heart heavy with the weight of what you were about to ask. “What... what happened to them, Joel? I want to know. If it’s just going to be the two of us from now on, I want to be able to trust you with everything, and I want you to trust me too. Completely.”

Joel let out a long sigh, his hand running through his hair as if he were trying to smooth out the tangled thoughts in his mind. He looked at you, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. “I’ve never really talked about it,” he began, his voice rough around the edges. “Not with anyone.”

You squeezed his hand, silently encouraging him to continue. “You can talk to me, Joel. I’m here."

He took another deep breath, then started to speak, his words slow and deliberate, as if each one carried a heavy burden. “We were driving back home that day. It had been a long day, and we were tired. Jane and I... we’d been arguing about something, I can’t even remember what it was about now, but it was heated. Sarah was in the back, just trying to ignore it all like she usually did when we fought.”

Joel’s voice faltered for a moment, but he pressed on. “I lost control of the car. It all happened so fast... one minute we were arguing, the next... we were off the road, and then everything just... stopped. I woke up in the hospital. They told me Jane didn’t make it. Sarah... she held on for a few days, but... she was gone too.”

His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down the pain that was rising in his throat. “I blamed myself. Still do. I was the one driving, I was the one who lost control. I was supposed to protect them, and I failed.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you listened, your heart aching for the man who had carried this pain with him for so long. “Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry. It wasn't your fault,"

He shook his head, his expression conflicted. “I should’ve done better. I should’ve been better.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your tears mingling with his. “You did everything you could, Joel. You loved them, and that’s what mattered most.”

As you held him close, Joel’s thoughts drifted into the shadows of his mind, a place where the past and present collided in a tangled mess of emotions. The memory of that day, the sound of metal crunching, the silence that followed, haunted him like a ghost that refused to be exorcised. It was a wound that never healed, festering beneath the surface, a reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he could never get back.

Losing Jane and Sarah had shattered him, leaving him hollow and broken. They were his world, his purpose, and when they were ripped away, it felt like the universe had punished him for daring to love too deeply. Since then, he’d built walls around his heart, thick and impenetrable, to keep the pain at bay, to protect himself from ever feeling that kind of loss again.

But then you came along, with your soft smiles and tender touch, and those walls began to crack. You found your way into his life, into the parts of him that he’d thought were dead and buried. And now, the thought of losing you was unbearable, a terror that gripped his soul with icy fingers. If he lost you, it would be like losing Jane and Sarah all over again—only this time, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

God knows what he would do if that happened. The thought alone made his heart race, his breath catch in his throat. You were his lifeline, the one thing that kept him tethered to this world, and the fear of losing you gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. He couldn’t bear it—not again. He couldn’t survive another loss like that.

Joel knew he wasn’t perfect. He was rough around the edges, scarred by years of pain and regret. But with you, he wanted to be better. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved. And yet, the fear lingered, whispering insidious doubts into his ear—what if he wasn’t enough? What if he failed you, too?

But as you leaned into him, your warmth grounding him in the present, Joel felt something shift inside him. He didn’t have to be perfect; he didn’t have to have all the answers. All he needed to do was hold on to you, to this moment, and trust that you could face whatever came next together.

The night stretched on as you and Joel stayed up, talking about your lives, sharing pieces of your pasts that you had never revealed before. Joel's voice was a steady, comforting presence in the dim light of the room, and though he opened up about so much, he skillfully avoided any mention of your father. It was a delicate line to walk—Joel had been his best friend, after all—but tonight wasn’t about reopening old wounds. It was about the two of you, building something new together from the ruins of what had been.

As the hours passed, your eyes grew heavy, the weight of the day and the depth of your conversation pulling you towards sleep. You were just about to drift off when Joel's voice, soft yet insistent, broke through the haze of your exhaustion.

“Baby, stay awake for a while for me,” he whispered, his hand gently guiding you to sit up and face him.

Confused but trusting, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and let him maneuver you, your heart skipping a beat at the tender way he looked at you. Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, the sight of which immediately piqued your curiosity. You glanced at him, your tired mind struggling to piece together what was happening.

“Joel…?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just opened the box to reveal a delicate gold necklace. The pendant was a beautifully crafted sun, its rays shimmering in the faint light. It was simple yet breathtaking, and as you stared at it, something inside you stirred, a warmth spreading through your chest that chased away the last remnants of sleep.

“Happy birthday, doll,” Joel said softly, his voice tender and filled with affection.

For a moment, you just stared at him, stunned. No one had ever done something like this for you before. Not your parents, not anyone. You’d never been surprised or celebrated like this—never had someone put so much thought into making you feel special. The shock of it all brought a lump to your throat, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Oh, Joel…” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “You like it?”

You nodded quickly, reaching out to touch the pendant again, feeling its smooth, cool surface beneath your fingertips. “I love it,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve never had anything like this before. No one’s ever… done anything like this for me.”

Joel’s smile faded into a more serious expression as he gently took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Well, you deserve it,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You deserve to be celebrated, to have someone make a fuss over you on your birthday. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important person in his world—it was almost too much to bear. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best possible way. For the first time, you felt truly seen, truly loved.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck, burying your face in his shoulder as the tears finally spilled over. “Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Thank you so much.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words—gratitude, love, a deep, unspoken connection that went beyond anything you’d ever known.

Joel kissed you back, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’re welcome, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He gave you a small smile before pulling back slightly. “Now, turn around. I want to put the necklace on you.”

You did as he asked, turning your back to him as you gathered your hair to one side, exposing your neck. You could feel his fingers gently brushing against your skin as he fastened the clasp, the cool metal of the necklace resting against your collarbone. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he was handling something fragile and priceless.

“There,” Joel said softly, his voice warm with affection. “Perfect.”

You felt Joel’s fingers gently adjust the necklace, the cool metal resting comfortably against your collarbone. The delicate sun pendant seemed to radiate a quiet warmth, a perfect complement to the emotions swirling inside you.

As you held the pendant close to your heart, savoring the weight of the gift, Joel’s touch lingered. His lips brushed softly against the exposed skin of your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The sensation was tender and soothing, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his love and devotion.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate space. Joel’s kisses continued, moving slowly along your neck and back, each touch a silent declaration of his feelings for you. His hands were warm, his touch reverent and filled with an unspoken tenderness.

The air between you was thick with emotion, the depth of your connection more tangible than ever. As Joel’s kisses grew more insistent, more passionate, you felt a powerful surge of desire and love. It was as if every touch, every kiss was a way for him to express the feelings he found difficult to put into words.

You turned slightly to face him, your body still trembling with anticipation. The look in his eyes was filled with a mix of love, longing, and an almost primal need to be close to you. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a recognition of the depth of your bond and the comfort you found in each other’s arms.

As the night deepened, the room was filled with the quiet sounds of your shared intimacy, each moment a beautiful blend of passion and tenderness. It was a celebration of your love, a testament to the journey you had taken together and the future you were building side by side.

***

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you quietly gathered your belongings. The guest room that had become your sanctuary with Joel felt strangely empty now, a bittersweet reminder of the safety and comfort you had found within these walls. You took a deep breath, running your fingers over the bedspread, smoothing out the wrinkles, as if by doing so you could somehow hold onto the memories you had created here a little longer.

Outside, you could hear the muffled sounds of Joel and Bill talking, the low rumble of voices mixed with the occasional clatter of supplies being loaded into the truck. Joel had insisted on helping with every last detail, making sure that everything was perfectly arranged for the long journey ahead. Bill, ever practical, had offered them one of his newer trucks—a vehicle more suited to the months on the road that lay ahead. Joel had tried to argue, offering to pay, but Bill had waved him off with a gruff laugh, saying, "It’s on me. Just don’t come back knockin’ on my door, you hear?"

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, the warmth of Bill’s gruff generosity reminding you of how much you’d come to appreciate these two men who had given you and Joel a safe haven. As you moved around the room, making sure everything was in order, a soft knock at the door drew your attention.

It was Frank, standing in the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. "Mind if I come in?" he asked, his voice kind.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Frank’s presence had always been a source of quiet comfort, and now, as he stood there, it felt like the closing of a chapter you hadn’t realized was so dear to you.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Frank said, his tone a mix of affection and sadness. "Take care of yourself out there, kid. You’ve got a long road ahead of you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. "Thank you, Frank. For everything."

Frank held out two items, both of which caught you by surprise: a well-worn Bible with a cracked leather cover, and a small handgun that looked like it had seen its fair share of years. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected combination.

Frank noticed your hesitation and chuckled softly. "Happy birthday, kid," he said, his voice tinged with warmth and something almost fatherly. "I figured you might need both on the road. One to keep you safe from the world, and the other to keep you safe from yourself."

Your breath caught in your throat as you accepted the gifts, your fingers brushing over the rough texture of the Bible’s cover, feeling the weight of history it carried. The pages, yellowed with time, whispered of stories and lessons that had been passed down through generations. It wasn’t just a book; it was a relic, a piece of someone’s life, and now it was being entrusted to you.

"How did you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Frank gave you a knowing smile, glancing over his shoulder towards where Joel was finishing up with Bill. "Joel’s not great at keeping secrets," he said with a smirk. "He came to me, asking for advice on what to get you. He wanted it to be special, something you’d never forget. I had to pull it out of him, but he finally admitted that today’s your birthday."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Frank’s words, a deep appreciation for the man who stood before you. "Thank you," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. "This means more to me than you know."

Frank nodded, his expression softening. "I’m not a religious man, but I know that faith is important to you. This Bible—it’s been with me for a long time, and I figured it might bring you some comfort, maybe even some guidance when you need it most."

You held the Bible close to your chest, its presence both comforting and grounding. "I’ll cherish it, Frank. Truly."

Frank’s gaze shifted to the handgun, still resting in your other hand. "And that," he said, his tone more serious, "is for when things get tough. I know Joel will do everything he can to protect you, but it doesn’t hurt to have something of your own. Just in case."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the gift. The world outside was unforgiving, and as much as you believed in the power of faith, you knew that sometimes, survival required more than just hope. "Thank you, Frank," you repeated, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Frank’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re a good kid," he said softly. "You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and I can see how much you mean to Joel. Take care of each other out there, okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of his words. "We will," you promised.

Frank gave you one last, lingering look before stepping back towards the door. "I’ve packed some food for the road," he added, his voice returning to its usual warmth. "Figured you two could use it."

"Thank you," you said again, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

As Frank nodded and stepped back, you carefully tucked the Bible into your bag, nestling it among your few belongings like a piece of home you could carry with you. The gun, however, felt heavier in your hands, not just in weight but in the responsibility it symbolized. You found an old handkerchief in your bag, wrapping the gun tightly within its folds, along with the bullets. This was a secret meant for emergencies only, something you hoped you'd never have to use. You knew Joel wouldn’t approve—his protective nature would have him shielding you from this harsh necessity. But you felt a strange sense of empowerment as you hid the gun deep in your bag, a quiet resolve settling in your chest.

After making sure nothing was left behind, you and Frank stepped out of the room. The hallway felt longer now, each step echoing with the finality of your departure. When you reached the front door, the sunlight greeted you, warm and bright, as if trying to dispel the lingering shadows of the past few days.

Joel was already standing by the truck, his strong frame leaning casually against the door as he spoke with Bill. He looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately finding yours, and a small, comforting smile tugged at his lips. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with the same bittersweet undertone that seemed to hang in the air.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. This place, these people—Frank and Bill—had given you something invaluable: a sanctuary, a place where you and Joel had found a moment of peace in a world full of chaos. It was hard to say goodbye.

Frank and Bill stood together, their figures silhouetted against the morning light. There was an unspoken understanding between all of you—a recognition of the bond that had formed in such a short time, and the knowledge that it might never be repeated.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft yet filled with gratitude. "For everything. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you."

Bill waved off your words with a gruff, yet warm, "Just keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid. And remember, this truck’s got a lot more miles in it than that old rust bucket Joel was driving. Don’t come back knockin’ on my door for a replacement, you hear?"

Joel chuckled, the sound carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there in days. "We won’t," he assured them, though the words carried a weight of their own.

As you and Joel prepared to leave, Frank turned his attention to Joel, his eyes filled with a quiet seriousness that hadn’t been there before. He stepped forward, pulling Joel into a firm hug, the kind of embrace that spoke volumes without needing words.

"Take care of her, Joel," Frank murmured into his ear, his voice low but carrying the weight of his words. "She’s a good kid. She’s gonna need you."

Joel held onto Frank for a moment longer, his hand gripping Frank’s shoulder in silent acknowledgment. "I will," Joel replied, his voice steady and full of conviction.

Frank pulled back slightly, looking Joel in the eye with a mix of trust and understanding. Then, with a final pat on Joel’s back, he stepped away, leaving the space between them filled with the unsaid, but deeply understood, responsibility that now rested on Joel’s shoulders.

Joel walked back to the truck, you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—stronger, more resolved. With that, the two of you climbed into the truck, ready to face the road ahead, knowing that whatever challenges awaited, you’d face them together.

As Joel drove away from Bill and Frank's place, the truck rumbled softly beneath you, its engine a steady heartbeat in the quiet of the early morning. You waved through the window, your hand lingering in the air as the two men faded into the distance, their figures shrinking until they were just specks on the horizon. The road stretched out before you, endless and inviting, bathed in the soft glow of dawn. It was like something out of a dream, a scene so perfect it felt almost surreal.

Here it was—your dream, the one you’d held onto through all the nights of despair and longing, the one that had kept you going when everything else seemed lost. Just you and Joel, no one else. He had saved you from the misery of your past, pulled you out of the darkness, and now, here you were, embarking on a new life together. A life that felt like it was finally yours to live.

As the truck moved down the road, the landscape began to shift and change, like scenes from a movie rolling by outside the window. The sun was rising higher, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, as if God Himself had brushed the heavens with His divine hand. It felt like a sign, a message from above that this was your path, that this was where you were meant to be.  If it’s meant to be, then it will be. And it felt true, truer than anything you’d ever known.

You didn’t need anything else right now—just Joel. His presence was all the reassurance you needed, all the comfort you’d ever craved. As he drove, his right hand reached across the space between you, fingers finding yours with an ease that felt like second nature. You looked over at him, your heart swelling as you watched him—his eyes focused on the road, but his grip on your hand firm, protective. It was as if he was silently telling you, I’ve got you. As long as I’m here, you’ll be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it with everything in you. This was your sanctuary, not a place but a person. The love that pulsed between you was more than just an emotion—it was a lifeline, a tether to something bigger than the both of you, something that had been written in the stars long before you ever met.

The road ahead was uncertain, the future a vast, uncharted territory, but it didn’t scare you. With Joel by your side, you felt invincible, as if the world could throw anything at you and you’d come out the other side stronger. You didn’t need anything else—no wealth, no fame, no worldly possessions. Just Joel. He was your beginning and your end, the sun that lit up the darkest corners of your soul.

As you squeezed his hand, a silent promise passed between you. You would face whatever came together, hand in hand, heart to heart. Because if it was meant to be, then it would be. And right now, in this moment, it felt like everything in the universe had aligned to bring you here, to this place, to this man.

And as the miles melted away beneath the tires of the truck, you allowed yourself to lean back, to rest your head against the seat, knowing that for the first time in your life, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 8

Masterpost

He did not go to bed. He went to the computer and he searched up Batman. Wikipedia had the same article. He clicked on it and scrolled down to the list of associates. It was… 

A really long list. Tim’s eyes crossed. There were a whole bunch of boring irrelevant people in other states. But more importantly, there was a list of speculated Robins. Robins, as in plural. 

“Four or five, depending on who you believe,” Tim muttered incredulously to himself. The original Robin, one next, then a girl, and now a short one. That was so many Robins. It was perhaps too many Robins. There should have just been the one. The others were fakers. He scowled at his screen, a little offended for Dick.

At least he knew, now. That was what Oracle meant by ‘the birds’. Tim put his face on his hands and tried not to feel small and silly. She meant the robins.

Tim closed the tab and tried to feel ready to search up the Waynes to confirm his theory. 

The second Robin would have been Jason. He had no idea about the girl or the new one, but doubtlessly Bruceman BatWayne had adopted them. If he searched Bruce Wayne’s name, he’d see it.

Tim closed the laptop. He didn’t need to see it to know that he was right. And honestly, he was tired. He dragged a lap blanket off the back of the couch and made it into a cape for comfort. He trailed around the empty, quiet apartment and tried to feel better. He would not be able to sleep if he went to bed like this; he just knew it. 

‘Why didn’t Jason come?’ He hugged his blanket to his body and wished he felt warmer. ‘You’re supposed to like your boyfriend. I’ve been here for days and no one tried to see me before those two. Why did he not come home?’

Maybe they were fighting. Maybe that request for surveillance meant something. Tim craned back to remember Jason’s exact wording. The first relevant thing he’d said had been…

 “I picked up on something - I think one of my ongoing cases dips into your patrol area. You gonna come out tonight?” 

Then Tim said no, because he was 9 years old. Then Jason said a bad word. Then he said “Fair enough. Uh, think you could do some surveillance for me?”  

Tim ran it back and forth a couple of times. He didn’t see any subtext. So… No. he decided no, Jason hadn’t been communicating anything that indicated a particular problem in their relationship. Maybe he was just out of town.

He poured himself a glass of milk and challenged himself to drink it as slowly as possible. By the time it was gone, Tim sort of felt better. He went back to the guest room and crawled into bed. 

Despite his feeling that he wouldn’t sleep, it was like he just laid down and blinked to see it was the morning. Tim snuffled and pushed his hair out of the way. He sat up slowly. Man, he felt crummy. Unenthusiastically, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and scooted down to the cold floor. 

Bleh.

“I want Mom,” Tim said. No one answered, because the apartment was big and empty and there was nothing to indicate that anyone who loved him lived there. He felt kinda empty in his chest as he walked himself to the kitchen. He wasn’t even hungry, but it was just the law for people that you have to eat in the morning. 

He put bread in the toaster. He got out the pan but it just seemed like too much work. He left that on the counter and then climbed onto the counter to dig out the peanut butter from the cupboards. 

Okay. Peanut butter toast. That was pretty good. Tim snagged an apple off the counter and started peeling it. 

“Ow!” He dropped the peeler with a clatter. The apple landed on his foot and rolled away. He was too busy sucking on his finger to do anything about it. Tim danced in place for a minute, tearing up in pain. It hurt so bad! He ran to the sink and put his finger under the water, scared to see how deep he had cut himself.

In the clear stream of water, he could see that it was a cut that made a flap of skin. There wasn’t any bone or anything. It was fine. He was fine. He just needed a bandaid.

Tim burst into genuine tears. He sat on the floor and cried his heart out. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to go home. He was tired of being too small for his life. His sobs gradually petered off into sniffles. 

He picked himself up and wrapped a paper towel around his finger so that it didn’t bleed on anything. He hunted down the apple and threw it away. He unpeeled a banana instead, because a banana never hurt anyone aside from the pain of it tasting bad. He poured himself milk and juice and he put peanut butter on his cold toast. He ate it all, feeling numb. He had to, because no one else was going to. After that, he went looking for bandages. At least big Tim had a lot of them. Big Tim was really prepared to get hurt and have no one to help him.

So lucky.

The apartment felt a lot less fun now.

It was hard to even work up enthusiasm for Miss Tamara, but it was his job. So Tim reluctantly dragged himself to the laptop and opened the email to see if she’d said anything.

She had. She said to call her.

Tim went looking for the phone. It turned out to be under the sofa for some reason. He didn’t remember why. He hit the power button, discovered it was dead, and then he plugged it in. He waited around and fidgeted while it charged enough to turn on. He called Miss Fox right away.

She picked up on the third ring. “Tim, good to hear from you,” Tamara said easily.

…It felt nice to hear that. Tim swallowed. “Is there a situation?” he asked. 

“The opposite, thank you for that documentation,” Tamara said. She sounded like the pretty version of a shark somehow. “I confronted the employee with it and they did admit to some malfeasance. They were hiding an earlier error. Of course, I went and confirmed that mistake made sense. Thank you for including your exhaustive list of theories.” She sounded amused by that. “Never change, Tim.”

That hit him in a weird way. Tim rubbed at his chest, wondering what that meant. He’d just been thinking that he really needed to change and grow up. “I’m glad that I could assist you,” Tim said. “Thank you for telling me how you resolved the situation.”

“No problem,” she said crisply. “Will I see you in the office on Monday?”

Tim looked at his wall. He could see his reflection in a picture frame. It was mostly blocked out by the bright colors in the photo behind the glass. It was just obscuring enough that he could imagine how his face was going to look when he met Miss Fox. “I hope so.” He didn’t know who Zatanna was, but Oracle seemed efficient. She had probably made the correct staffing decision, just like Miss Fox would. 

The day seemed a little brighter after that. Tim picked himself up with a new feeling of determination. He hadn’t ruined things. Sure, he hadn’t been totally successful. But so what? Who won every game they played?

He went back to studying. He barely registered it when the bell rang.

When Tim lifted his head, he was mostly just grabbing around for the phone on autopilot in order to make it quiet. “Shush,” he said, trying to shut off the alarm.

He hit ‘accept’ on the phone call instead.

That woke him up. Tim stared at the timer counting up from 0 seconds to 1, 2, and then hastily lifted it to his ear.

“Hey?” 

“Jason,” Tim breathed.

“That’s my name,” Jason agreed, sounding weirdly uncomfortable. “You’re still sick? Jeeze. You aren’t dying or anything, right? You’ve been out of the field for a while.”

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Tim said. “I will see a specialist, though.” He left off any estimate of time, since Oracle hadn’t said how long it would take. “I apologize for my failure to make progress on your case. I’ll get it done today.”

“...That’s not terrifying or anything.” Jason sighed. “I thought this was a cold. I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “There’s some chicken soup outside your door. Take it or don’t. I don’t care.”

“What?” Tim asked.

“Back off,” Jason snapped back. 

…They sat in silence for a couple of seconds. On Tim’s end, it was a confused silence. But he felt a little warmed. “You made me soup,” Tim said aloud. “Right?”

Jason said another bad word. “Eat it,” he snapped. “I just don’t want you to waste away before you do that surveillance. I know you don’t eat enough. I’m going to bed.”

The dial tone rang out in Tim’s ear. Dazed, it took him a couple of seconds to lower his phone. He put it on his lap and recalibrated. 

“He loves me,” Tim said, choked up.

He cried about it a little. But it was a good cry this time! Tim was happy that someone cared about Big Tim. The idea that he was going to grow up to live in this big empty place with no friends or family around had been scaring him. The fact that he was wrong sent so much relief through his body. 

He retrieved the soup and ate it. He cried a little more when he realized the dumplings were homemade.

When he was done wrestling with big feelings, Tim knew what he had to do. He went back to his studies with renewed determination. He was going to get Jason the right information about the Sausage man, no matter what.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Five

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Five: Arriving at Isla de Muerta

Summary: The Interceptor catches up to the Black Pearl, which means it's time to save Elizabeth. Or die trying (But hopefully not).

            Despite Jack’s compass not pointing north, though Gibbs insisted it still worked, and storms, the Interceptor made its way towards Isla de Muerta. A heavy fog covered the sea, and wrecks lined the way to the island itself.

            “Dead men tell no tales,” cawed Cotton’s parrot as they sailed in.

            “Puts a chill in me bones, how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage,” said Gibbs.

            (Y/N) looked down and watched sharks pass by the shipwrecks below. Indeed, many lives had been lost in these waters.

            Will frowned and looked at Jack, who was steering the ship while glancing at his compass. (Y/N) was curious how it worked. If it didn’t point north, where did it point?”

            “How is it that Jack came by that compass?” asked Will, looking at Gibbs.

            “Not a lot’s known about Jack before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to find the treasure of Isla de Muerta,” said Gibbs. “That was before I met him, when he captained the Black Pearl.”

            (Y/N) tilted their head. “He captained the Black Pearl?”

            Gibbs choked as he took a swig of rum. Clearly, he hadn’t meant to reveal that.

            “He didn’t mention that,” said Will suspiciously. He didn’t like how much Jack was hiding from them. It was dangerous. He’d have to keep an eye on (Y/N) in order to keep them safe.

            “He, uh, keeps things closer to the vest now,” said Gibbs. “A hard-learned lesson it was. Three days out on the venture, the first mate says, ‘everything’s an equal share. That means the location of the treasure, too.’ So, Jack gives up the bearings. That night, there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to did, but not before he’d gone mad with the heat.”

            “Ah,” said Will. “So that’s the reason for all the…” He imitated Jack’s strange mannerisms.

            “Reason’s got nothing to do with it,” said Gibbs.

            “I think it might just be a Jack thing,” said (Y/N).

            “Now, Will, (Y/N).” Gibbs sat down on a barrel, and (Y/N) and Will sat with him. “When a pirate’s marooned, he’s given a pistol with a single shot—one shot. That won’t do much good hunting, nor to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starving belly and thirst, that pistol starts to look real friendly. But Hack escaped the island and still has that single shot. He won’t use it, though, save on one man. His mutinous first mate.”

            “Barbossa,” said Will, having heard the name floating about.

            “Aye,” confirmed Gibbs.

            (Y/N) leaned forward and tilted their head. “How did Jack escape the island?”

            “I’ll tell ya!” said Gibbs excitedly. “He waded out into the shallows and waited three days and three nights till all manner of sea creatures came acclimated to his presence. On the fourth morning, he roped a couple of sea turtles, lashed them together, and made a raft.”

            “He roped a couple of sea turtles…” repeated Will.

            “Aye, sea turtles,” said Gibbs with a grin.

            (Y/N) frowned. “What did he use for rope?”

            Ahem.

            Everyone looked up to find Jack standing before them.

            “Human hair,” he said. “From my back.”

            Gibbs nodded with a grin.

            “Let go anchor,” ordered Jack. They had arrived. The Isla de Muerta and danger waited for them. “Young Mr. Turner and I will go ashore,” said Jack.

            “What? No. I’m coming, too,” said (Y/N). They weren’t leaving Will, and they weren’t abandoning Elizabeth now. Now that she was close, they were determined to help.

            “No,” said Will.

            “Do you want me to stay with you or with all of these people?” said (Y/N), waving their hand at the pirate crew. They hated to manipulate Will, but they were clever, and they could tell Will had been keeping them close due his suspicions of the others, so…they used that to their advantage. Perhaps they did have a bit of pirate in them.

            Will grimaced. “Fair point.”

            “Oh, good, the more the merrier when we march into near-certain death!” said Jack, grinning.

            Will had a feeling he’d regret letting (Y/N) come with him, but he also wanted to keep (Y/N) close in case of danger. He wasn’t leaving them with untrustworthy pirates.

l

            Will held the lamp while Jack rowed the small lifeboat into the caverns of Isla de Muerta. (Y/N) sat in the middle and watched as they approached a larger tunnel. Voice echoed from in front of them—the crew of the Black Pearl.

            Will cleared his throat as he saw a skeleton lying on the rocky shores. “What, uh, code is Mr. Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?”

            “Pirate’s Code,” said Jack. “Any man who falls behind is left behind.”

            “No heroes among thieves, eh?” said Will.

            Jack rolled his eyes. “For having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you’re well on your way to becoming one. Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer out of Tortuga…” A golden shine illuminated the channel, and Jack looked at Will as he gazed at the golden coins. “And you’re completely obsessed with treasure.” He grinned and looked at (Y/N). “Whaddya think?”

            “I like sailing, I like the sea.” (Y/N) looked at the coins. “I’d rather not be weighed down with that.”

            Jack tutted. “We’ll make a pirate out of you yet, treasure-seeking and all.”

            (Y/N) chuckled.

��           “You won’t,” said Will forcefully. “Neither of us will be obsessed with treasure, and everything we’ve done is for Elizabeth.”

            Jack grinned and led the way up to a cliff where they could look down at the cavern below. “Not all treasure if silver and gold, mate.”

            “Gentlemen, the time has come!” Barbossa stood in front of his crew atop a pile of gold. “Our salvation is nigh! Our torment is near an end!”

            Elizabeth stood next to him in a burgundy gown, glowering at the men. Leave it to Elizabeth to never back down in the face of possible death.

            “Elizabeth,” said Will worriedly.

            “For ten years we’ve been tested and tried, and each man here has proved his mettle a hundred times over and a hundred times again!” declared Barbossa. The imposing crew shouted in agreement. “Punished we were, the lot of us, disproportionate to our crime! Here it is!” He kicked open a chest of coins. “The cursed treasure of Cortes himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned. Save for this!” He pointed at the medallion around Elizabeth’s neck, the necklace she’d worn for years.

            “Lizzie,” murmured (Y/N) worriedly, narrowing their eyes.

            “Jack!” said Will, getting to his feet and drawing his sword.

            “Not yet!” Jack pulled him back down. “We wait for the opportune moment.” He moved down the cliff.

            “When’s that?” asked (Y/N).

            “When it’s of profit to him,” spat Will.

            Jack paused and turned back to face them. “May I ask you a question? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, which likely wouldn’t have been a good one. “Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you, but please stay here and try not to do anything stupid.” He grinned at (Y/N). “You, too!” He darted off.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “I find him fun, somehow, but I don’t trust him to not have something up his sleeve.”

            Jack narrowed his eyes. “I agree. Let us focus on saving Elizabeth and escaping.”

            (Y/N) nodded. Elizabeth was the first priority.

            And so, Will and (Y/N) crept down the cliff around the back of the treasure pile.

            On the pile of gold, Barbossa continued his speech. “Who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?” Everyone cheered. “And whose blood must yet be paid?”

            “Hers!” They glared at Elizabeth.

            “You know the first thing I’m gonna do when the curse is lifted?” Barbossa grinned. “Eat a whole bushel of apples.”

            Curses? (Y/N) frowned. So magic is real. They could have smiled. Everyone claimed it wasn’t that myths were silly tales, but here was the truth. Magic was as wild and beautiful and dangerous as the sea, and (Y/N) found themself oddly energized by the idea. Something else free like they wanted to be.

            Barbossa pushed Elizabeth over Cortes’s gold and grabbed a knife.

            “Blood, blood!” chanted the pirates. “Blood, blood, blood!”

            “Begun by blood,” said Barbossa. “By blood undone.”

            Will and (Y/N) arrived behind Jack. Will grabbed an oar, and before (Y/N) could ask what he was doing, he swung. It hit Jack in the head, and he crumpled.

            “What was that?” said (Y/N).

            “We’re not becoming his leverage,” said Will, narrowing his eyes. “He needed us—me—for something. I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”

            “I feel bad leaving him behind for Barbossa to find,” said (Y/N), frowning and hesitating.

            Will’s gaze softened. (Y/N) was a good kid. “It’s what’s necessary.” He gently took their arm and pulled them farther into the cavern. “Come on.”

            They snuck around the treasure pile while Barbossa drew his knife across Elizabeth’s palm. Her blood dripped onto the medallion and dropped into the treasure chest. The pirates went silent, anxiously awaiting some sign the curse had broken.

            None came, and they looked at each other in confusion.

            “Did it work?” muttered one.

            “I don’t feel no different,” said another.

            “How do we tell?” asked a third.

            Barbossa rolled his eyes and shot the third. The pirate jumped, but he did not fall. The bullet rocketed through him with no harm done to him.

            “You’re not dead!” cried a pirate.

            “No!” said the shot pirate in relief. He frowned and looked at Barbossa. “You shot me!”

            “It didn’t work!” shouted another pirate. “The curse is still upon us!” An angry clamor went up.

            Barbossa grabbed Elizabeth roughly, and (Y/N) nearly jumped out in anger. Will grabbed them, silently cursing their wild nature.

            “You, maid! Your father, what was his name?!” demanded Barbossa. “Was your father William Turner?!”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. That would explain why Jack was so concerned about Will’s name. His father was involved with the curse.

            “No,” said Elizabeth, smirking.

            “Where’s his child that sailed from England eight years ago and in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner?!” interrogated Barbossa.

            He needs Will’s blood to end the curse, thought (Y/N). Jack had fully intended to use Will to his advantage due to that. That upset (Y/N).

            Elizabeth just looked at Barbossa, smug at having tricked him. Furious, he backhanded her. Elizabeth fell down the back of the treasure pile. (Y/N) slid into the water and swam to the pile while Will tried to pull them behind him. He intended to lead the way in case the pirates noticed, but, as always, (Y/N) just forged ahead according to their own whims.

            (Y/N) shook Elizabeth, and when she jerked up, they put a finger to their lips. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock, and Will smiled and gestured at her to follow them into the water. While the pirates argued behind them, the three swam for the exit and the rowboat awaiting them.

            “The medallion! She’s taken it!”

            (Y/N) moved faster as Barbossa’s shout echoed towards them. He had noticed Elizabeth’s escape. They paused as they arrived at the rowboats.

            “(Y/N), come on,” said Elizabeth.

            “I have an idea,” said (Y/N), grabbing all the oars they could hold.

l

            Behind the lifeboat Will rowed furiously, a trail of oars led the way to the Interceptor. Hopefully, a lack of lifeboats would slow Barbossa and his men down.

            Elizabeth groaned as she looked at the men on board the Interceptor. “Not more pirates.”

            “Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth,” said Gibbs.

            “Mr. Gibbs?” Elizabeth hadn’t expected to ever see him again.

            “Hey, boy, where be Jack?” said Gibbs to Will.

            “Jack? Jack Sparrow?” Elizabeth was surprised to hear his name.

            “He fell behind,” said Will.

            Gibbs was silent, and the crew murmured until he lifted his head. “Keep to the Code.”

            (Y/N) remained silent and looked back at the island. They hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. They couldn’t trust him, but they hadn’t wanted to harm him. Truly. If only Jack hadn’t been so intent to send them all into danger…

l

            “What sort of man trades a man’s life for a ship?” muttered Elizabeth after Will recounted the story of how they arrived at Isla de Muerta and she had recounted her own trials against Barbossa. “Pirate.”

            “I don’t know,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Will carefully wrapped a cloth around Elizabeth’s wounded hand. “You said you gave Barbossa my name as yours.” He looked up. “Why?”

            “I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, avoiding Will’s gaze.

            Because you two are in love with each other, that’s why, thought (Y/N). Honestly, it was obvious.

            Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Thank you for making sure (Y/N) was safe.” She looked at them. “Though I do not know why they insisted on running into danger.”

            “Because you were already in danger,” said (Y/N). “I couldn’t leave you there.”

            Elizabeth smiled gently. “Thank you. Both of you.” She cleared her throat again and lifted the medallion from around her neck. “Allow me to be honest. This is yours, Will.”

            “I thought I’d lost it the day they rescued me…” said Will. “It was a gift from my father. He sent it to me.”

            “Why did you take it, Lizzie?” asked (Y/N).

            Elizabeth looked down in shame. “Because I was afraid that he was a pirate. And then Norrington and my father would have…” She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her thought.

            (Y/N) interjected in order to keep them from all breaking down. “That coin is cursed. And Barbossa wanted the child of William Turner. That means they need Will’s blood.”

            Will’s hand curled around the medallion angrily as the truth settled in. “The blood of a pirate.”

            “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” said Elizabeth, guilty for having taken the medallion.

            Will slammed the medallion down on the table. Jack had told him he was the son of a pirate, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now he had to.

            (Y/N) rose and walked out of the room. Elizabeth quickly followed. They’d give Will the moment he needed to process everything.

            (Y/N) stepped out onto the deck of the Interceptor, and they felt the air whip around them. Something dark and bitter was carried in the air. They looked back at the direction of Isla de Muerta, and (Y/N) frowned. They had a feeling that the sea had more in store for them.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

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@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the little kart that sat in the garage haunted you, filling your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, it doesn’t help that your husband wants to share his love for karting with his son…but there’s always more than meets the eye.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, arguments, miscommunication, a bit of fluff at the start, but uh yeah it gets a bit rough now

𝐚/𝐧: this is the beginning of uh the angst…so buckle in and get ready, remember we have to go through the hard times to get to the good…please don’t hate me😁

𝐰𝐜: 1.3K

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

You avoided the garage like the plague, not wanting to look at the kids kart that still remained where Max and Charles had left it. It was haunting you, matter of fact it was almost mocking you at this point, you hated it, truthfully you hated it. Thankfully Pascale had offered to take Matteo for a weekend to allow you and Charles to talk as well as have a few days to yourselves, which you were hoping would help the very heavy tension between you and your husband. 

Matteo was dropped off earlier in the morning allowing for you to run a few errands before returning home to clean and avoid Charles for another few hours. The one good thing was he had meetings for a few hours which gave you enough time to think about how you were going to approach the conversation and find a solution for everyone. 

“I’m all finished my meetings”

At the sound of Charles’s voice behind you, your heart rate picked up the slightest as you turned to nod, a small smile on your face 

“I guess we should talk then”

“Sure, should we go sit on the couch?”

Nodding you walked over and sat next to him, his hand reaching to grab yours gently, a habit of his and he was thankful you didn’t pull away 

“I want to say I am sorry about the kart…Max and I saw it and, it was an impulse buy, I should have talked to you before I bought it”

“Thank you…I forgive you, it was just a shock to see it sitting in our garage and I think I may have overreacted when I saw it originally”

Charles remained quiet as he listened to you, he hated fighting with you and getting in disagreements, you were his other half, any second he had to spend away from you felt like a lifetime. 

“I love you, I just want you to be happy amour”

“I know, I love you too..”

Leaning forward you placed a kiss to his lips, your chest feeling lighter already as you looked at Charles, you could see the sincerity in his eyes, he really hadn’t meant to upset you, which is why you really didn’t expect him to say what he did next.

“You know I did want to talk about karting to you, I think we should look into it now while he’s still little, get him a spot?”

It’s not that you didn’t want to let Matteo kart, but he was two years old and he couldn’t even sign up until he was at least six or seven years old. Why did it need to be discussed now? Why couldn’t it wait until a few years from now?

“Charles he can’t kart for another four or five years, I don’t see why we need to talk about it now”

You couldn’t help the slight irritation that bled into your voice, not intending the conversation to go this way at all

“Because it’s important to me amour, I want to introduce him to my favourite sport!”

“I understand that but it’s not important to me right now, what’s important to me is focusing on Teo and letting him explore anything he wants until he’s old enough to think about karting”

“Oh so what’s important to me doesn’t matter?” he stated, brows furrowing in confusion 

“What? I never said that!”

You stood up from the couch and ran your hands through your hair, taking a deep breath 

“Believe me Char, what is important to you matters to me but not right now, not when Matteo is little and I don’t want him anywhere near the track or that kart!”

“He comes to see me on the track!” 

Charles yelled back, standing up and looking at you in astonishment 

“That’s different and you know it Charles!” 

“HOW!?”

The room fell silent after he yelled, something he rarely did, and it had you stunned for a moment 

“I’m not ready to see Matteo get into a kart and race and get hurt, I already see you go out in those formula one cars and go at speeds I cannot imagine our little boy going at yet. I AM NOT READY!”

“WELL I AM!”

The yelling had only started to make this argument way worse than it needed to be, he wasn’t even looking at your side of the situation, just his, and believe me you wanted to be on the same page as Charles but right now you just couldn’t be.

“I’m so happy you are but his is OUR son Charles, and right now I’m telling you I am not ready for this conversation, I am not interested in looking into karting and if you’re going to keep yelling at me then this discussion is over.”

“Putaine de merde, pourquoi ne peux-u pas arrêter d’être si têtu et voir les choses de mon point de vue!?” 

Scoffing your crossed your arms 

“Vraiment Charles? Tu veux répéter ça?”

When Charles was angry he’d often switch to French just out of habit, and despite English being your first language, being with him as long as you had, meant your French was pretty fluent. 

“No I don’t because I’m done talking to you, it’s like talking to a fucking wall, god you’re so-so selfish! I’m just going to sign him up and you can deal with it.” 

Hearing this made your heart drop, there was a look in Charles’s eyes that you’d never seen before and you didn’t enjoy it

“Yeah nothing else to say now huh? Good.”

“I’m done.”

You shook your head willing tears of frustration away as you walked away from the living room, and upstairs to pack a bag, not wanting to spend a minute more in the home you shared with your husband, and thank god Matteo wasn’t there either to witness this. 

“Oh come on, you’re leaving?”

Sniffling softly you wiped your eyes, standing up with the overnight bag you packed 

“Yes I-I am because I won’t l-let you make me o-out to be the villain Charles I just wont!” 

He went to say something but you cut him off

“I watch you go out with a chest full of anxiety not knowing what race will be the race you crash and get hurt or even worse! I worry everytime you get into that car that you wont be coming back to me-to matteo! I will not sit here and let you push our son into a go kart like this because I cannot and will not lose him.”

Charles’s eyes softened at this, wanting to reach out and apologize to you, but as you stepped back he felt his heart break more

“So I am leaving, and you can figure out where your priorities are, because right now its not with your family.”

There was really nothing else that he could say as he watched you leave him there, the bedroom now too quiet for his liking, the door slamming letting him know you really were leaving him alone. He didn’t even have Matteo around to keep him company. For the first time in a while Charles didn’t know how to feel or what to do with himself. It wasn’t until an hour later that he received a text from Lorenzo that you had arrived to his and Charlotte’s house for the night, clearly not wanting to bother his maman and Matteo. Not wanting to be alone Charles called Arthur and begged him to come over, needing someone to talk to, someone to hear him and help him figure out what exactly went wrong. 

If he was worried he’d messed up before…he was entering a whole new level now. 

ʚlittle karter series tag list

@goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @piastricodedfr @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @goldenalbon @wintfleur

english translations:

Putaine de merde, pourquoi ne peux-tu pas arrêter d’être si têtu et voir les choses de mon point de vue - fucking hell why can’t you stop being so stubborn and see things from my point of view

Vraiment Charles. Tu veux répéter ça? - really charles? do you want to repeat that?

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 16

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 15 | Series Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 16

The thud of your steel-toed boots was loud in the near-empty Bounty Hunter’s hanger as you returned from the flight line to your office on Friday. Since the squadron was deployed, only a skeleton crew and the civilian DOD employees were in residence.

Plus, there was the odd Dagger who dropped in to chat.

Since you’d been back at work, someone had visited every day. Nat brought coffee. Bob poked his head in to chat for a few minutes. Reuben would swing by with snacks. And Javy? Javy showed up at the house with dinner. 

As much as you appreciated them checking on you, it was overwhelming. And exhausting. They wanted to ensure you were okay, so you tried showing that. You didn’t want them to worry, and for that to get back to Jake. So, if that meant putting on a brave face and joking with your friends, so be it.

In the week and a half since deploying, Jake had texted you a handful of times. Though the carrier had wifi, it was still difficult to coordinate a time to talk between his long shifts, your work schedule, and the time difference. The ship was still traveling, but you were already steadily moving toward the 17-hour time difference. After waking up the first morning to a missed text, you turned your phone off silent mode and slept with it on your pillow. On Tuesday, you’d been able to trade five messages with Jake before he went to bed and while you waited for the nausea meds to kick in to start your day. 

You were hoping to schedule a call with him over the weekend. No matter what time, you would make sure to be awake. 

Nudging your office door open, you pressed a hand to your rumbling stomach. You’d been running late to work this morning and hadn’t had a chance to eat anything. The quality assurance guys had asked for you to be on-site with them as they walked some government contractors - including your old coworker Glen - through an inspection to ensure that contract stipulations were being met. The baby was making their dissatisfaction with your empty stomach known, and another anti-nausea pill was in your immediate future. “I know,” you sighed, walking to your desk and kicking off the heavy boots you had to wear while on the flight line. “We’re getting something soon.”

After swapping the boots for flats, you grabbed your purse and cell phone. Phones weren’t authorized on the flight line, and you’d reluctantly left it behind. Which was why seeing a missed call from Jake knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears sprang to your eyes as you clicked on the voicemail.

“Hey, darlin’. I know you’re at work, but I had a couple minutes and thought I’d try to catch you. I…uh… I hate to say this, but we’re going radio silent. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I’m sorry, darlin’. I love you.” 

Quickly, you tried to call him back. It went straight to voicemail. On the off chance he could listen to the message, you cleared your throat and forced your tone to be bright. “Hey, babe. Sorry I missed you - I was out on the flight line. You know how the QA guys are about phones, and I didn’t want to get written up for a safety breach. Apple and I miss you, but we’re okay. Tell Rooster and Mav I say hi. Be safe. We love you, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jake smiled at you from your home screen after you ended the call, a quick picture you’d snapped of him as he woke up, hair mussed with sleep and pillow lines creasing his face. He disliked that picture but could never convince you to change it. Taking a deep breath, you forced away your tears and grabbed your purse. 

Jake turned off his phone and hung his head. He’d known it was a long shot to catch you during the middle of the day, but he’d wanted to hear your voice. It was a harder transition than he’d expected, from talking to you daily to subsisting on a few texts. He missed hearing your music as you got ready in the morning, how you’d mumble in your sleep occasionally, and your commentary on his driving. He even missed finding strands of your hair all over his stuff. 

He didn’t want to constantly compare his first and second marriages. Still, this deployment was definitely more brutal than any before. And it wasn’t only because of the baby.

For the first time in a long time, Jake had someone he wanted to be with at home. And who wanted to be with him. He’d never really had an issue with the lack of communication while underway before - an email or two to his sister, a couple-minute call to his mom, and stilted conversations with his first wife had been the norm - and had happily traded away his scheduled call times. But now, going radio silent was killing him. He couldn’t send you a good morning text or check on how you were feeling. There were no updates about how big the baby was getting or the doctor’s appointment he knew was coming up. 

Hopefully, it was only for a few days, he thought, pushing to his feet and slowly returning from the Officer’s Lounge to the stateroom he shared with Rooster and Fritz. Mav was billeted with the other captains. Though stationed at the same base, Jake hadn’t interacted with Fritz much after returning to Lemoore, other than nodding at him when passing in the hallway of the Bounty Hunters’ hanger on his way to visit you. He, Rooster, and Mav were the odd men out on the mission. The air wings were tight-knit after training and previous deployments together, so he’d take whatever comradery he could find.

When Jake pushed the door open, Rooster was lying in his bunk, scrolling on his phone. Clocking his stormy expression, the aviator decided against teasing him about how his call went as Jake returned his phone to his assigned safe. “I’m gonna grab a coffee before heading to the ready room. Want to join?” he asked.

“I guess,“ Jake replied. They were due to a briefing on the multinational war games they were to participate in. It was good experience for them to practice flying sorties against potential combatants, especially with the additional steps the US military took to make the engagements harder for their pilots. The US military basically tied one hand behind its back during the games, pushing its aviators and sailors to think creatively when faced with potential barriers. 

There is more to gain from losing than winning. The brass could use the information to devise new strategies and tactics, which was the ultimate goal of these international scrimmages. But that didn’t mean that they liked losing. While sailing to the designated site, they would devise a plan to help defeat the enemy. And Jake had been drafted to help teach those tactics.

“Fuck,” you growled, slamming your hand against the cool shower tile. Blindly, you turned the water heat down as the room spun. Over the last few days, you’d started feeling lightheaded again, something you hoped was behind you. But apparently, dizziness was expected in the second trimester of pregnancy as your blood volume increased. Hopefully, you thought, this wouldn’t land you back in the emergency department. You could only imagine how Jake would feel if that happened while he was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. 

With that in mind, you slowly lowered yourself to sit in the bathtub and attempted to rest your forehead on your knees. Between your stomach and how the position made your back twinge and breasts ache, you huffed and leaned back against the tub. A stab of pain shot down your right side, and you whimpered, hands going to your belly as you stiffened. Thankfully, it faded quickly. Dr. Shearer confirmed that the pain was normal during your check-up on Thursday. 

An unwelcome sob rose in your throat, and you clapped a hand to your mouth to trap it. There was nothing to cry about, you scolded yourself. The shooting pain was an unfortunate side effect of your body changing to accommodate the baby. Yes, it sucked that Jake wasn’t there to dig his thumbs into your lower back and kneed away that tension or hold you when your head spun, but tough shit. It was something you needed to get used to. As much as you wanted your husband there to hold your hand and make you feel better, billions of women got through pregnancy alone. Seventeen weeks down, twenty-three to go. Sunday - tomorrow - would mark the beginning of week 18.

And you were luckier than most. Your husband and parents were supportive, and you had a great group of friends around. Like Nat, who would be there shortly to help you go shopping now that you were officially getting to the very limits of your wardrobe. For all that she was stuck wearing a uniform at work, the aviator enjoyed clothes shopping and had promised to make it a fun day even though you were dreading it. And your coworkers were being phenomenally supportive. Even Jake’s squadron had taken to popping over to check on you. Admiral Tritz’s wife had offered support and connected you to some of the other officers’ wives.

It didn’t matter that it had been a week since hearing anything from Jake. He was busy, and so were you. This was just part of life, loving someone in the military. Hell, growing up, you’d done this. In kindergarten, your dad had been gone so much that you vividly remembered picking him up from the airport, confident that you were dreaming because Dad was home. There were so many weekend mornings that you’d woken up to your mom in front of the computer on a video call, trying to catch a few minutes with one another before he went to bed when assigned to temporary duty in another country. Your sophomore year of high school, Dad had gone on a solo remote tour to Korea for a year in exchange for orders to Florida because that’s where you wanted to go to college. 

Mom had encouraged you to stay busy. That would help the time fly by. And it had, to some extent. Work was a good distraction, and you tried to keep in touch with your friends back home. But the loneliness crept in at night. You missed the casual intimacy of getting ready together in the morning, driving into work and commenting on the talk radio conversations, standing beside one another in the bathroom while brushing your teeth, and how he would make sure you were settled before turning off the light and crawling into bed beside you. 

Three weeks alone in the house, and you were slowly building a new routine. You were back to cooking dinner on Sunday and making enough leftovers for the week. After forgetting to set the coffee pot the first day - that was Jake’s chore - you did it while getting a glass of water before bed. His truck became your weekend car to make sure the battery didn’t die. 

Hot tears trailed down your face, and you slid under the shower spray to rinse the conditioner from your hair. You needed to get ready because Nat would be there soon. Wallowing would get you nowhere. 

It took a moment to realize that your music had become a ringtone. You pulled back the curtain to see who was calling, and your heart stopped.

The last picture Jake had sent you - him in his jet, smiling behind his oxygen mask - appeared on the screen. 

Quickly, you wiped your hand on the bath mat and reached for the phone, swiping to answer. “Hold on!” you said, letting the curtain fall back and turning off the water. Reluctant to stand too quickly, you ripped back the curtains and sat on the tub's rim, yanking the towel from the rack and drying your hands. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. “Just a second!”

Jake’s laugh echoed through the bathroom as you quickly tapped the speakerphone. “Take your time, darlin’.”

“I’m getting out of the shower.”

“Don’t move too fast, then. Don’t want you to slip.”

“I’m being careful,” you answered, grinning through your tears while swinging your legs out of the tub. Sniffling, you grabbed the phone and held it tightly, wanting to have him closer. “I’m here.”

“Good.” The phone beeped, signaling an incoming video call. Reluctantly, you accepted it, ensuring the camera was pointed at the ceiling. The angle allowed you to see him, hair flattened to his head and dark circles under his eyes but kept you out of frame.

“Hang on, let me put some clothes on.”

“Lemme see you first.” Mistaking the reason for your reluctance, Jake quickly added. “I’m not around anyone now. Everyone else’s already gone to bed.”

“What time is it?” you asked, trying to distract him. It had to be early, given the time difference and the way his accent was stronger with exhaustion.

“Almost 3:00AM. I wanted to call you as soon as we got the okay, but I fell asleep after my shift.” It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him to go to sleep and that you would talk to him later, but you selfishly wanted him to stay on the phone. He yawned, scrubbing a hand through his hair and blinking tiredly into the camera. “C’mon, Mama - lemme see my girls.”

Sighing, you chewed your lower lip while lifting the phone so you were in the frame. Jake’s smile dimmed as he frowned. “Hey, babe.”

“Were you crying?” 

“‘M fine,” you said quickly. “How are you? How have you been?”

“Why were you cryin’, darlin’? What’s wrong?” 

“‘M fine,” you repeated, blinking away the tears. “I just… I miss you.” 

Jake sighed your name, brows furrowing. “I miss you too. How’ve you been? Taking care of yourself?” Nodding, you dried off your legs and slowly stood. “Sloane behaving?”

“Oliver’s been okay. Making me lightheaded and a bit achy, but other than that, we’re good.”

“Lightheaded? Did you fainted ag - ”

“I’ve been fine, Jake. Just taking it slower and making sure that I sit down when I need to. I promise,” you added, wishing he was close enough to smooth the worry lines on his forehead. “Did you get the newest sonogram picture?”

“As soon as I turned on my phone. She’s getting big.”

“As big as a bell pepper tomorrow. And apparently, they’ll start developing their hearing this week.” He smiled tiredly.

“Gonna have to make sure I spend some time talkin’ to her then. Make sure she knows her daddy’s voice.”

“Say the word and I’ll hold my phone to my stomach. He’ll probably have some good acoustics.” Chuckling, he shook his head. 

“Maybe next time. Wanna talk to Mama today. And see what you look like - you didn’t send me a picture of you.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked to the vanity. “No one’s around you?” 

“Officer’s lounge is empty,” he confirmed. Sighing, you covered the camera with your thumb, ignoring his grumble of discontent, and propped the phone against the mirror. With a deep breath, you dropped your hand and stepped back. Jake let out an appreciative whistle that made you blush. Scoffing, you quickly grabbed your underwear and put them on. “Slow down, gorgeous. I wanna get a look at you.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re sexy as hell.” Moaning, he shifted in his chair, hand disappearing to where you could picture him adjusting himself. “Damn, Mama. We’re gonna have to have another kid so I can enjoy you lookin’ like that in person.”

At that, you laughed and snatched up your leggings, yanking them on. “Again - ridiculous. Let’s survive our first pregnancy before talking about another one.” The stretchy material clung to your stomach, emphasizing the curve. 

“Hang on, turn to the side,” Jake said, bringing the phone closer to his face. When you did, placing a hand on top of your stomach, he breathed, “Fuck.” You watched as he tapped the screen, taking a picture. “I’m the unluckiest son of a bitch. Look at you, gettin’ bigger with my baby, an’ I’m not there to take care of you.” The exhaustion on his face was mixed with a different type of hunger, making you think of the nights you woke him up with teasing touches and soft kisses. Nights where words weren’t needed, conscious enough to be lost in the dreamlike pleasure of one another. 

The thought made you shift, a familiar ache appearing between your thighs. While it wasn’t the main reason you wanted your husband home, you missed him in your bed. You'd gotten used to his touch in the year you’d been together. At the slightest hint of being turned on, Jake was happy to take charge and make you cum. Your body craved the feel of his calloused fingers, his soft lips on your skin, and his weight holding you down. 

And it felt like you were turned on most of the time now. 

A devilish smirk crossed Jake’s mouth as he watched your nipples harden. “Cold, darlin’?” 

“Not exactly.” Slowly, you dragged your fingers up your chest, lightly running your nail across your bare breast. “Miss you.” He groaned, reaching to adjust his earbud.

“From sad to horny, huh?”

“More like sad and horny,” you corrected. 

“Same, darlin’. Wish I was there to take care of you the way you like.”

“Me too. It’s not the same without you. Doesn’t feel as good.” At that, his head dropped back onto the chair, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he let out a heavy breath.

“You’re killin’ me, Mama.” At your sharp inhale, his gaze snapped to the camera in time to see you pinching your nipple. “Fuck. Do it again.” With your lower lip between your teeth, you did as he said, whimpering at the rough feeling. Jake shifted, a pretty red flush appearing on his skin. “Tryin’ ta get me in trouble, darlin’?” he rasped.

“Never.” 

“Liar.” He watched as your fingers slid into the top of your legging and underwear, tugging them down. 

“Tell me to stop,” you challenged. At his silence, you pushed the material down your hips and legs, letting it pool at your feet. Stepping out of it, you picked up the phone and made your way to the bed, settling on his side. “Cat got your tongue, Hangman?”

“Just admiring the view, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake said, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you flipped the camera to show your fingers trailing down your naked body. While your breasts were easily viewable, your stomach hid your lower half. “Gonna give me a show?”

“Tell me what you want to see.”

“Wanna see my pretty - ” Jake’s eyes darted to the side, and he quickly sat up. The seductive, teasing tone was gone when he said, “Girl’s ultrasound.” His gaze tracked someone, and he nodded before looking at the camera. Quickly, you flipped the view so he could see your face. 

“Someone’s there?” 

“Yup. Would you send me one of the pictures?” Scrubbing a hand down your face, you moaned. Arousal hummed under your skin, and a small part of you was tempted to take care of yourself while on the call, but that would be cruel to your husband. Especially if there was another person around. As much as you loved teasing him, that was a bridge too far.

Huffing, you flipped back the covers and propped the phone on his pillow. You could smell the faintest hint of his shampoo clinging to the fabric. “Are you asking for an actual ultrasound picture or dirty pictures?” you smirked, tugging the blanket up to your chest. 

“Both.”

“Anything else you’d like, Lieutenant Seresin?” His eyes darted to the side again.

“So many things, darlin’. But I’d settle for some snacks.”

“Sure. I’m running low on my snacks, too, so it’s good timing.”

“The normal ones, or are you having pregnancy cravings?” he asked, cocking his head. Jake hated that he had to ask, adding it to the running list of things he was missing.

“Well, I don’t usually crave beef jerky or yogurt-covered pretzels, so I’d say pregnancy cravings.” 

“Anything else?”

“I mean, there’s been a few nights I’ve gone out for a milkshake and fries.” 

“Wish I was there to make the run for you. You go to our anniversary spot?” Laughing, you nodded while sliding a hand under the covers to cradle your stomach.

“I did go to our anniversary spot. Their fries are so salty, and the ice cream machine was actually working. So this one will probably be more than happy to go twice a year for our anniversaries.”

“Once, Mama. We agreed to go to McDonald’s for our dating anniversary, not our wedding one. Wanna at least have one night where I can spoil you.” 

“I believe you said you’d think about it. And you can still spoil me, but we can end the night with chicken nuggets and fries.” Jake rolled his eyes before yawning. “Babe, you should go to bed.”

“‘M fine. Wanna talk to you.” 

“I need to get ready. Nat’s on her way, and we’re going shopping since I can no longer fit any of my work clothes.” His gaze softened as he frowned, thinking about how upset you’d been about that before he left.

“You okay?”

“Our credit card might not be.” 

“Darlin’.” You sighed, looking away to gather your thoughts.

“I’m okay. It’s easier now since I look pregnant, and people know.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re beautiful, Mama.” Tears pricked at your eyes, and you turned to hide your face in his pillow. Jake groaned, and you peeked to see his thumb brushing the screen as though he could touch you.

“I’m fine,” you sniffled. “I’m fine, babe.”

“Fine, beautiful, and gorgeous,” he agreed, causing you to blush. “Love you, darlin’.” 

“I love you too.” You watched as he clenched his jaw to keep from yawning again and sighed. “Go back to bed, honey. Call me when you wake up.” 

“Alright. Have fun with Phoenix, and buy whatever you want. Send me pictures.”

“You’re ridiculous. Goodnight.”

“Night, Mama. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the call disconnected, you let the phone fall. Lightly stroking your stomach, you heaved a sigh, feeling better that you’d at least spoken to your husband. “I miss Daddy,” you whispered to the baby. 

And, though you knew it was your mind playing tricks on you because it was too early to feel movement, you thought you felt the slightest of flutters against your palm. 

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Author's Note: This chapter fought me because, though I knew the story was going to be angsty given the premise, it still hurt to write. Definitely brought up a lot of memories of my dad deploying, and what a toll that took on the family. Snuck some personal experience into the chapter, when Darlin' was reflecting on what it's like to love someone in the military. I definitely remember being 5 years old and thinking I was dreaming coming back from the airport with Dad in the car, because he deployed to Saudi A LOT that year. And he and Mom agreed for him to take remote - when the service member gets orders but the family doesn't - to Korea when we were ready to come stateside to make sure we got to Florida. (My older sister was already in college, and Mom put her foot down about living overseas while one of her kids was in the states alone.)

Thanks for your patience with me getting this out. I'm excited for the next chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to get that one out quicker, as I'm also working on a holiday story about Jake.

Read Chapter 17

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