#the nurse was so nice she showed me about how much air it would take for me to have a reaction and its been so much easier since then

[basedtater]

when will the hrt lie posts die

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

[miss-anachronism]

I posted something yesterday throwing my hat into the ring of Merlin and Valen relationships, and people seemed to like it! These guys are best buds to me, im glad yall see it too. It inspired me to write a little drabble, so here ya go <3 this is Valen and my (fem) Merlin, so it gets kinda specific at parts lol

…

It’s been a long day.

And as much as Valen wishes it were the easier type of long day: boring and uneventful, where he has to drag himself from task to task; it was quite the opposite. Exhilarating, exhausting, and deadly; now he was sinking into a sofa chair in the Mystical house, nursing a spiked drink and a sprained ankle.

It wasn���t even a mishap- he’d launched the attack perfectly, but that godforsaken golem had grabbed his leg at the last moment and slammed him back down into the ground. Lucius said he was lucky to have avoided a concussion. But what does Lucius know, anyway.

All this to say, the entire ordeal has left him grumpy and secluded. He’s tucked into the library, where the din of the bar can’t touch his slowly receding headache. It’s lovely in here, quiet and serene, fresh air drifting through the large open windows on the south wall. The smell of old books mingles nicely with the outside breeze, stopping just shy of being overwhelming. He would have never thought himself a library person; the one in Holistone was lackluster. But Merlin, as she often did, had flipped his conceptions upside down, and provided Valen one of his favourite spaces in her impressive library.

It’s a little ridiculous to expect privacy and solitude from a house that isn’t your own, especially one housing at least five others, but Valen still finds his every muscle tensing when he hears the library door open and close with a soft click.

He exhales slowly through his teeth, trying not to make his disappointment too obvious. He sends his farewells to his peaceful rest, and a quick prayer that whomever has entered isn’t in a talkative mood. He really doesn’t feel up to playing up the charm.

The soft pattering on the floor and the long exhale that come from behind him, however, chases those fears away. The momentary panic slips from Valen’s body, and he glances to the side, grinning when a green, eerie eye catches his gaze.

Merlin grins back at him, though she looks just as tired as he feels. “Hey, sorry. I know you’re hurt, but it’s winding down out there, and I wanted to do some research before I turn in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Valen chuckles, “It’s your home.”

“Well, yes, but you’re my guest. And if you want me to shut up and leave you alone, say the word and I’ll be gone, no harm no foul.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he confirms, slightly surprised that he doesn’t even need to lie, “your company is appreciated.”

She grins at him and sets her own drink down on the small coffee table, and pulls another chair up. “Thanks, Val. I’ll keep it down, promise.”

She’s true to her word, shuffling through a few eclectically stacked books around the floor of the library before settling with three in hand. She puts the biggest one between them, and opens it up to reveal a collection of beautiful woodcuts, depicting various temples across the globe.

Valen lets out a low whistle and leans in, watching as she flips through a few illustrations, and then spins the book around to show him a full two-page print. It takes him a moment to recognize.

“The Moon Temple?”

Merlin nods, her eyes never leaving the paper. “Back in its heyday. We were talking about it, and Dolly mentioned that I should have an old book of prints in here somewhere. I’m lucky I found it so quickly.”

“How old is this book?”

“Four hundred years, give or take.”

Valen half gasps and half laughs, staring at the book in wonder. He’s shocked Merlin even has the balls to touch the thing, let alone open it.

“I can’t believe you just have ancient scripture lying around.”

“Hey, this is far from ancient,” she teases, glancing up to wrinkle her nose at him.

“You’re right, you’re right. It doesnt hold a candle to the oldest artifact in this room: you.”

Merlin sticks her tongue out at him, and Valen returns in kind, before they both return to the book.

The Moon God had been dead for a thousand years or so before this print was made, so the Temple isn’t exactly in perfect condition. Still, it’s a far cry from the decrepit ruins that it’s in today. Beautiful pillars surrounding the pouring, majestic fountains, each flaw and imperfection dutifully recorded… Valen finds himself being drawn in by the skilled execution of the print itself, scanning over the evenly spaces hatching and intricate detailing in the stonework, the water, the attention to values… it’s a beautiful recreation. Valen can even make out the carvings on the pillars themselves.

There’s a little blurb of writing at the bottom of the page, in a language Valen can’t identify. He reaches out to tap at it, stopping just shy of actually touching the book.

“Can you read this?”

Merlin hums in assent. Instead of flipping the book back around to face herself, she stands and moves over to Valen’s side of the table, kneeling next to his chair.

“It’s not much. ‘The Moon Temple, for the greatness and majesty of Nakalig the many-faced…. Cast a moonstone into the divine spring… a chance for divine lunar enlightenment…’ yeah, we know all this already.”

“It’s still interesting,” Valen contests, watching as Merlins finger drifts over the words. “You’ll have to teach me how to read this.”

Merlin scrunches her nose again. “The language is pretty dead, Val. I think you’ll only find Celestials who speak it fluently, nowadays.”

“So? If it’s spoken by Celestials, I’m sure it’s gorgeous. And mysterious. All the more reason to learn it.”

Merlin scoffs. “If you received a love letter written in the old, dead language, would you actually go on a real life date with the sender?”

“A date? I’d bed them on the spot,” Valen jokes, and Merlin throws her head back and cackles.

“Gross, ugh.” She sneers, giggling. Valen grins.

“Thousands of years old, and you still have the humour of a teenager.”

“Shut up,” she huffs, lightly punching him in the shoulder, only for her eye to immediately widen in concern.

“Ah, shit, that didn’t hurt did it? You’re hurt, I shouldn’t be jostling you around.”

“Merlin, babe, do you really think you can push me around?”

“You underestimate me! I could totally beat you up.”

“Mhmm,” Valen chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. Merlin gives him a wry smile.

“Seriously, though, you okay?”

Valen pauses a moment, taking stock of himself. Yes, his ankle still aches, but the spinning pain in his head has thankfully receded. The exhaustion still runs deep in his bones, however; he thinks if Merlin asked him to stand up, he’s simply collapse.

“I’m alright, all things considered,” he settles on, “but tired. Exhausted.”

“Hey, bright idea here! Maybe you should go to bed!”

“A genius, you are.”

“They don’t call me Merlin for nothin’.”

He chuckles. “It’s nice here. I don’t get much time to relax. And the sun’s only just setting,” he waves a hand towards the window, bathed in pinks and oranges, “let me have an hour, at least.”

“Fine,” Merlin conceded, resting her head on the arm of his chair. Dutifully, Valen proceeds to use her head as an armrest. She huffs in amusement.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Merlin lazily flipping through the book, pausing every time Valen leans closer to inspect a print. Eventually, she complains about her neck, and Valen lets up to allow her a slightly more comfortable position.

“I don’t know how to teach languages,” Merlin says suddenly, startling Valen out of his concentration, “but I think, with Hammie’s help, I could teach you a couple phrases and see where it goes from there?”

Valen blinks in surprise. “You don’t have to do that, Merlin.”

She shrugs. “I want to. Gives me something to do. If you want to, of course.”

Valen pauses, thinks it over, takes another long sip of his drink.

“…sure. We’ll see where it goes.”

Merlin nods, and flips the book closed.

“but if I’m a bullshit student, you can’t be mad at me.”

“I’ll never believe you are,” Merlin sniffs, scooping the book up and standing with a grunt. “Deep down, you’re a nerd like the rest of us, Mr. Playboy Solitaire.”

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Chapter 5

a/n: hope the length makes up for the wait.

Warnings: swearing, unwanted physical contact, mild violence, Gale is a teddy bear

Words: 10k

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

July 1943

Dusk painted the sky in colorful hues when the mechanics finally packed away their tools. Tonight, the small crew decided to go out to the local pub to celebrate Simon's birthday, and everyone was eager to get started. The consensus was the guys would come collect Abby from her hut once they were cleaned up and ready to go. 

Abby would never admit out loud how fast she ran to her hut so she would have even a smidgen more of time. She raced the clock to take the fastest shower of her life and even then she could still feel stubborn spots of oil and grease on her. With the lack of time, she was forced to towel dry her hair as best as she could and then let it fall naturally down her back, so her straight brunette locks ended just past her shoulder blades. She giggled at the mental image of the shocked faces of some of the nurses who painstakingly and religiously used curlers in their hair. 

Slipping into the only dress she brought to England with her, a fond smile arose with the memories attached to the dress. It was a simple navy blue dress with white polka dots all over, the hem dancing about her knees. Her Aunt Hassel gifted the handmade dress to Abby when she arrived to live with them. The first of many gifts and ways that her aunt and uncle showed they were happy she moved in with them. A decision she would never regret. 

Lastly, Abby swiped on Ada's Victory Red lipstick she left on her nightstand, thinking Ada would not mind. More likely, Ada would fuss and want to help her get ready. All the other nurses were off at the Club or doing their assigned rounds, so Abby had the hut to herself. A rarity but especially helpful tonight when she did not want to answer any questions about why she was dressing up. 

Steeling herself, she took a glance in Ada's small compact and fought the immediate urge to wipe the lipstick off and crawl into bed, claiming illness. Warring thoughts and voices buzzed like bees inside her mind. Their sting, an almost palpable thing, as she fought to control her breathing. She could do this. There was no one she was dressing up for, just herself. This was supposed to be fun. It would be fun. No one was going to berate her. She trusted the men she was with. She had promised Ken she would go. 

Despite her own mental encouragement, she knew it would be so easy to crawl into bed. To hide the dress in the bottom of her footlocker again. To erase the lipstick. To tie her hair back up. To return to the feeling of safety. She could do it…

Before she surrendered to the urge, she stalked out of the hut with her black Mary Janes clicking on the hard floor. 

Dusk transformed into darkness by the time she stepped out. Taking several deep breaths, she stared up at the stars as if silently seeking strength. The cool night air slid around her legs, only protected by the nylons she wore. She relished the shiver it shot through her, displacing the heat generated from her turbulent mind and insecurities. 

Luckily the rest of the mechanics came around the corner only a couple minutes after she stepped out. 

“Did you dress up for me, love?” Simon teased, after a long whistle. 

“Only because it's your birthday.” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Ken slung an arm around her shoulders, smelling much better than he did previously, as they followed the rest of the crew. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” Winks snorted from Ken's other side. He peeked over at her through the gloom. “Abby looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks from all the attention. 

Conversations ebbed and flowed amongst their small group as they made the walk through the airbase and onward to the village. A renewed liveliness danced around them, the laughter and teasing increased the further they walked from base. As if a heavy cloak was dropped at the gate leading onto the base and now they could celebrate unimpeded. A warmth filled Abby as she watched and listened to the men around her. This was what they all needed, a temporary release from the weight of their work and all it entailed. A reminder that they were all still young and alive. 

Well, most of the crew. 

Simon was the oldest, turning twenty-eight today. When he signed up, he initially wanted to be a P-51 pilot but as he progressed in the training, decided he liked working on the planes more than flying them and was transferred to ground crew. He left a wife and toddler back home in Michigan. However much he joked that he joined the war effort to get a break from the wife and toddler, no one commented on the way he carried a photo of them in his pocket at all times. 

John “Winks” Herrmann was from Connecticut and Ken's best friend. He was a sweet guy that felt like an honorary ‘Lemmons’ with how quickly Ken and his friendship blossomed into a brotherhood. He hardly ever said a negative word about anybody and was always willing to help out. He was a bit naive in certain ways but mostly because he was young and this was his first time away from home. 

The rest of their group contained: Allen “Al” Hendricks from Missouri, Cricket Cox from Alabama, Paul Wilson from New Hampshire and Lincoln “Dog-Face” Miller from Montana. 

Without any outside light due to the blackout, it was hard to truly tell what the pub looked like. From what she could tell, it reminded Abby of the stereotypical English pub - small and quaint and lively. The only problem was a lot more noise drifted from behind the door as they walked up to it than she expected. 

“I thought you said no one would be here.” Abby quietly asked Ken. 

“Maybe it's locals?”

But something in her gut told her that was not the case, and when they opened the door, light and noise spilling out to encase them and drag them into its confines, like a spider into its web…Abby knew she had made a mistake. 

A handful of locals were scattered throughout the pub, some old men talking and grumbling and several young women either on the dance floor or drinking with the soldiers, but the pub was swarmed with uniforms boasting those of the 100th Bomb Group and RAF. 

As if sensing her urge to abandon the night, Ken snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He put his mouth close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “It's fine. We'll find somewhere in the back.” 

She nodded mutely. 

Al found a table off to the side, snagging it as the locals headed out, most likely wanting to retain the use of their hearing due to the sheer volume echoing in the place. Abby found herself sandwiched between Ken and Simon in mismatched chairs, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt she could breathe again. She was surrounded by people she trusted and they were out of the main view of people. Not that she was hiding, per se, but she was not here to show off. 

Lincoln and Al came back with the first round of beers and whiskey, and without a second thought, she took a generous swallow of the whiskey placed in front of her, hoping the alcohol would settle her nerves. She wanted to enjoy her time out, she really did. So she resolved to ignore those around them and try to focus on the men at her table. 

She could do this…

*****

“So there I was naked, and hidin’ in the hay pile, prayin’ to God ‘imself that her daddy couldn't see me.” Al told his story, much to the amusement of those around the table. “I waited about two damn hours for the man to leave. I swear, he was like a coon-dog, tryin’ to find me. Well, that damn hay is itchin’ me somethin’ terrible but I don't dare move, right? Who knows if he could see the hay shiftin’?”

“You said it was night. I doubt he'd see you.” Paul countered, leaning back in his chair, as he twirled a screwdriver around his fingers. He never went anywhere without some sort of tool on his person, claiming you never knew when something needed to be fixed. Abby thought it had more to do with superstitions but kept that to herself. 

Al ran a hand down his face. “I was seventeen! And terrified! That man could make even the devil himself shit his pants.”

“What were you doing messing with his daughter then?” Simon countered, ever the voice of wisdom.

“Swear to God, she's the prettiest thing you'll ever see! Even puts Rita Hayworth to shame!” Al placed a hand over his heart, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. 

“No!” 

“I don't believe you!”

“Don't you blaspheme about Rita!”

“Fine, fine.” Al smirked, leaning forward as if to share a secret with his companions. “She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen and said I could touch them. What dumbass would say no? Not me.”

“There it is!” Simon laughed. 

Abby giggled, playing with a strand of her hair. She was feeling good. Two whiskeys sloshed in her system while she nursed her first beer of the night sitting before her. She was not drunk, she knew that feeling and did not like it, but gloriously tipsy and everything felt light and easy and she wanted to revel in the feeling. Laughter spilled from her lips and she could not remember the last time she had so much fun. 

“So, what happened? Did he catch you?” Ken asked from beside her, a flush on his cheeks betraying his own intoxication. 

Al wagged a thick finger. “No. No. The bastard didn't catch me that day. No. It was worse.” He leaned forward again, a forearm on the table and tapping his finger on the table to punctuate his words. “No, turns out I'm allergic to hay. Who knew? Broke out in goddamn hives that lasted for days. It was awful! Don't laugh at me!” 

But the group laughed anyway at the turn of events in the story. With the embarrassing and hilarious stories being shared, all focused on their group, it felt like they were in a world of their own. The talking and laughter of the others in the pub was only white noise, drifting in and out with the music playing. 

“Alright, whose turn for the next round? Huh?” Paul asked, scratching his thin black beard.  

“I'll go.” Abby said, pushing back her chair to stand up. A wave of vertigo smacked into her and she gripped onto Ken's shoulder to steady herself. 

“You good?” Ken questioned. 

With a smile on her face, she shook her head, dislodging the strange sensation. “Yeah, just been sitting too long, that's all.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, causing him to smack her hand away with a grimace and whine like when they were younger. 

“I'll come with you.” Lincoln said, his thick jowls and thin lips highlighted by the lights. “Gotta step outside for a minute anyway.” 

A new conversation started up around the table as the two skirted away and methodically weaved through those filling the small pub. Abby appreciated Lincoln leading the way, his wide shoulders and thick frame cleared an easy path for her to follow. 

She felt like a fairy, moving around the dancing crowd and seeing the twinkling lights. With a stupid giggle, she spun in a circle, making her dress fan out around her knees. Unfortunately, she bumped into a soldier, but before he could say anything, Lincoln grabbed her hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bar counter. 

She leaned against the wooden counter, sticky form spilled alcohol and decorated with dents and circle stains from years of use. “Sorry.” She giggled again, tipping her head back to look at the much taller man. “I haven't walked in heels in some time.” At least, she thought it was the Mary Janes that caused her to momentarily lose her balance. 

“It's fine.” He smiled down at her, something indiscernible in his dark eyes. 

She blinked for a long moment, wondering if she was missing something. Why was he still smiling at her? Unsure, she went to brush her hair behind her ear and realized his hand was still in hers. 

Oh. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry. I just–” 

He chuckled as he pulled back his hand. “It's fine, Abby.” He glanced towards the door and then shuffled from foot to foot next to her. “Is it– I mean, I can stay–”

“Go.” She awkwardly pushed his shoulder, probably looking like a kitten bothering a German Shepherd. “I'll wait for you here.”

“Oh-okay. I won't be long.” He waited for a moment as if she would change her mind, but after she pushed him once again, he quickly stepped out of the pub. 

Turning her back towards the pub, she idly traced the circle stains on the wood. The bartender was helping a group of patrons further down and she did not mind waiting. 

Her thoughts drifted towards her departed companion. She disliked the nickname ‘Dog-Face’ for Lincoln but unfortunately it held merit. He was incredibly kind and humble but his countenance resembled that of a bulldog. To his credit, Lincoln rolled with the nickname. He was a good mechanic and a good friend. Ken had confessed to her early on that Lincoln had a crush on her, although he had never acted upon it and she had never witnessed it herself. She figured it was just boy gossip and Ken trying to tease her. 

As she glanced down the bar counter again, her attention was caught by Captain Dye and Lil, the two coyly flirting with one other. She had met Lil once when traveling into the village to pick up something from the small, local store they had. Abby was fairly certain she had heard rumors that Lil and Major Egan were seen together. The nurses had plenty of thoughts about Lil and some of the other local women, but maybe that was just rumors? 

“I dare say, it's quite a shame to see a beautiful woman standing alone at a bar. A true disgrace.”

Abby turned back, a wave of surprise coursing through her and dissipating some of the clouds in her brain, as she noted the man standing quite close to her. Upon hearing his British accent and seeing the uniform he wore, her mind quickly put together that he must be RAF. 

“Who said I'm alone?” 

He was handsome enough, she guessed. The slicked-back dark hair, the mustache and the cocky grin he wore most likely made many women swoon. But it was the way his gaze appraised her, like he knew he had already caught her without even having to try…that immediately erected her walls and sobered her further. 

He made a show of looking around her. “I do not see anyone or am I mistaken?”

“I'm just getting the next round for the group I came with.”

“Ah.” His grin widened and with a half step, crowded her against the counter. “I'm positive they won't mind waiting a little longer as we get to know each other.”

“No, thank you.” 

“No? May I at least have the honor of knowing your name, love?”

“I don't think that's necessary right now.” She hissed, one of her hands against his chest to keep him from moving closer. 

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman. What do you say, love?”

Yet his actions sang their own tune. 

While he spoke, his hand hovered on her lower back, an unwanted weight to pin her in place. She almost missed his last statement, a final plea for her attention because his hand crossed into turbulent waters and unknowingly released a storm. 

His back faced outward, a shield, a barrier, from the eyes of those in the pub. An illusion of privacy. For residing in that illusion, his hands chose to wander. The left was firmly placed on her lower back, while the right gripped the fabric of her dress covering her thigh. 

“Care to dance?” He breathed into her ear, alcohol wafting like a fog over her face. His hand though, slippery as eel, slipped under the hem of her dress and slid up her inner thigh.

“Get your hands off me.” She quietly snarled, grabbing his hand to cease its further exploration. 

She could feel his sigh against her cheek, that hot exhale of breath. More importantly, she felt his hand on her lower back drift downward…and she saw red. 

On instinct, she stomped the heel of her Mary Jane into the top of his leather shoe, and used her hand still against his chest to shove him hard. 

He hissed, teetering for a moment but catching his balance with a hand on the countertop. 

Slowly, she turned to face him after brushing the hem of her dress back into place, warily watching him for retaliation. She would rather not make a scene but if he came at her again, she had no problem with showing him her infamous right hook. 

Thankfully, he had a few brain cells that still worked. Anger burned in his eyes but he kept his lips closed. His gaze scanned over her with unrestrained disgust. With a shake of his head and a snort, he turned and walked away without a word. 

Her heart raced like an engine being pressed to the max. Placing her elbows on the counter she covered her eyes with her hands and she focused on steadying her breathing. An alcohol-induced fog skittered at the edges of her brain, shoved away by the ugly encounter but easing back in to soften her heightened emotions. 

A minute later, the barman finally made his way to her, apologies pouring off his tongue. She ordered and waited as he filled the new glasses, hoping she appeared confident. The encounter with the RAF pilot had left her shaken. She knew logically she was unhurt and had handled the situation as best as she could. Yet her gaze darted around, perceptions high to make sure no one else snuck up on her. Her hand repeatedly brushed at the thigh that he touched as if she could wipe away his stain on her skin. 

Lincoln reappeared as the barman loaded up the drinks onto a tray. Before he could move the tray to their table, Abby snatched one of the glasses of whiskey and tossed it back. She hissed, eyes smarting as the liquor burned down her throat. Leaving the empty glass on the counter, she led the way this time back to their table, purposefully ignoring Lincoln's quizzical glances at her. 

Back with the group, she tried to embrace the same lightness as before, that feeling of being wholly relaxed and having fun. The shot of whiskey and being back with the mechanics alleviated some of her jitters but she could not entirely erase the twitching nerves or how her gaze frequently swept the pub for that RAF pilot. A vine of resentment twisted around her heart for that pilot, how he ruined her freedom for his own amusement. It was a painful reminder that no matter where she was, she always had to be on guard. 

After she finally finished her warm beer, the clouds were back in her mind and her nerves had dissipated somewhat. At this point, sleep called to her as if from a distance and she was ready to beckon its approach. 

“Ken–” She said in a hush, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm behind her back. 

“Yeah, me too.” Her cousin replied quietly. “Ready?”

At her nod, the two carefully got up. Ken spoke to those at the table. “I'm going to take Abby back. I'll see you fellas in the morning.”

The chorus of farewells echoed from those remaining. The two mechanics meandered through the crowded pub, dodging the patrons both drunk and mildly sober. Ken led the way, cutting through like a schooner through the waves. With all of her attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not being knocked into, she barely noted when Ken took a detour away from the door, her feet faithfully following him. 

“Kenny!” 

“Hey ya, Ken!” 

The familiar cheers for her cousin erupted from the large table in front of them. She briefly wondered how he knew the majors were sitting over here, tucked away in the corner like they had been. The question flitted away from her mind almost as quickly as it emerged. 

“Hey fellas. Just poppin’ over to wish you a good night.” Ken explained, unnecessarily waving like a kid on a playground. 

Abby attempted to cover a giggle with her hand, hiding behind her cousin's back. Was he drunk? He appeared steady enough standing there. She decided to poke his back to make sure. 

“No! Sit down!”

“Yeah, join us! Where's that extra chair?”

“It's here! Sit down!”

Ken shrugged his shoulders, swatting away her hand like a fly. “That's ‘right. Thank you though.”

He did not tip so Abby concluded he was not drunk but she decided to poke him again for good measure. 

“Ouch!” Ken squirmed, turning around to grab her hands to prevent any more pokes. Mischief danced along her veins, so she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Hey, who's that with ya?” 

By this point, Abby was feeling all three glasses of the whiskey flowing through her veins and the beer she had been sipping on. She would be the first to admit she was a lightweight, not drinking often did that to a person. Plus with her slimmer stature, alcohol raced through her faster than a fart through a fan. 

Hearing Biddick's voice, she shifted to the side to look around Ken. Directly in front of her at the large wooden table was seated someone from the 100th she recognized but could not figure out his name but thought he was a navigator. Beside him was Major Veal, then Major Egan, Major Cleven, Lieutenant Biddick and Major Kidd, while across from them sat three other men in uniforms but she could not see their faces easily. 

“Hey, boys.” She smiled at the familiar officers. That very smile lighting up her face at the looks of momentary shock crossing the faces of the men she knew. 

“Holy shit! Slugger, is that you?” Egan almost spit out his drink, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. 

Biddick let out a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Abby!” 

“Alright, you're going to embarrass her.” Ken waved off any more rowdy compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.  

“Now you gotta sit with us!” Egan demanded. “Hey, Bubbles, go tell Croz to get something for Kenny and Sluggar here!” 

“Yes, sir.” The man she couldn't put a name with -apparently Bubbles- got up next to them and held out his chair. “You can have my seat. I'll sit on the other side with Croz.”

“Thanks, Bubbles.” Ken said. He bumped her with his hip, directing her towards the vacated seat while he slid into the empty chair between Bubbles’ chair and the unknown men. 

Once she finally seated between Veal and Ken, she was finally able to discern the faces of the other men at the table. All three were clearly RAF, but when she locked eyes with the one in the middle, seeing the familiar sleazy smirk on his face and his rakish gaze, she wondered if she might end up resorting to violence tonight after all. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you never left the hardstands.” Veal teased Ken. 

“Just out celebrating, sir. We're not allowed to have whiskey at the hut or hardstands.”

“That sounds terrible.” Egan dramatically lamented, then leaned forward and pointed a finger at Ken. “We should fix that! Can't have good work go without rewards!” 

“No, Bucky.” Kidd glared.

“Come on, Jack!”

Abby smiled at the one sided argument Egan was trying to put up. Her gaze slid around the table to land on Gale, and to her shock, locked on her already were his baby blue eyes. Once their eyes connected, the corner of his mouth lifted and he sent a cheeky wink her way. A giggle bubbled up within her, spilling out even as she tried to suppress it with her hand. The sound seemed to unlock something within him for a genuine smile rolled across his face, eyes softening as he continued to stare at her. 

Seemingly continuing an interrupted conversation, the RAF pilot in the middle began speaking, throwing a proverbial wet blanket over the jovial group. “I admire you Americans, you're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.”

“I…I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.” Kidd slowly said. 

“Nevermind, old boy. It's one for the higher ups.”

“It's a question of philosophies.” The RAF on the left continued the train of thought of his comrade, not even trying to hide his patronizing tone. “We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit as long as it's German. Bombing during the day is suicide. I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer. Maths.”

Abby squinted her eyes at the Brits, wondering what kind of churlish conversation took place prior to Ken and her arrival. Even with her sluggish thoughts, she could feel the strife floating in the air like a cheap perfume. 

Egan inhaled sharply, gaze narrowed at the men across the table from him. “Maths?”

“I mean, maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.” Biddick snarked. 

“And why the hell do you Brits add an ‘s’ to the end of math?” 

The cocky RAF smirked, slowing his tone like he was talking to a child. “Because there's more than one of them.”

Biddick mocked. “There's more than one of them.”

“I can see more than one of you too.” Egan raised his hand, seemingly illustrating his point. “I could knock all of you out.” Veal smacked his hand down but the major kept going. “Probably in one punch. In one punch.”

Thankfully, the arrival of alcohol distracted from the rising violence. 

“This outta wet your whistles, boys!” Crosby announced carrying a tray of drinks over. 

The drinks were quickly passed around, slid along the tabletop or handed to its owner. Abby noted how Crosby specifically handed Gale his ginger beer, a hint of reverence in his action. Yet Gale never took his gaze off the RAF pilots, accepting the drink without looking at the apparent admirer behind him. 

“Here ya go.” Bubbles’ voice snagged Abby's attention away as he placed a whiskey in front of Abby and one for Ken. “I wasn't sure what you wanted.”

“Thank you.” She murmured to the soft spoken man. 

He nodded, then retreated to the opposite side of the table. She witnessed them elbowing each other out of the way and being a nuisance to one another as they settled in their seats. 

“Ken…”

Her cousin looked down at her, “hmmm?”

“We need to go.”

“Hold on, another minute.” His attention turning back to the Brits, sucked into the turbulent conversation. 

With a sigh, she leaned her head on Ken's shoulder. Without looking, he twitched his shoulder, making her head move. Giggling, she smacked his arm but laid her head against him again. She could feel him scoot closer and settle his arm against the back of her chair, before taking a sip of his new whiskey.  

“How about a song?” The youngest of the RAF eagerly changed the subject, directing his particular question to Egan. “I hear you sing, Major.”

Those that knew the major either cheered or grimaced, depending on their opinions of John Egan's vocal talents. 

“Pick one. What's your favorite?” The young Brit encouraged. 

Egan grinned like he had won some kind of award. “Good idea!” Even though many around the table loudly disagreed with this assumption. 

To her hazy recollection Abby had never heard Major Egan sing, she almost opened her mouth to add encouragement when Biddick broke through the ruckus of voices. 

“Hey! You want to get Major excited? Baseball!” 

Egan pointed a finger at Biddick. “Specifically Yankees.” He clarified because apparently the distinction was important. His attention slid to his best friend by his side, a silly grin steadily growing as he gazed at him. “Oh my buddy, Buck, here, he thinks they're a waste of time, don't you?” 

Leaning forward to slip into Gale's space, Biddick added. “It's not just sports he doesn't follow. I mean, you don't follow anyone, do you?”

Gale nodded, allowing a pregnant pause as he bit into a toothpick before casually stating, “I follow you, Curt.” 

“And he would still find a way to show off!” Biddick chuckled, further leaning over Gale, now invested in this strange conversation. “For example, you remember Walla Walla. We had a visit from wing Cleven here, slow-timing Hollenbeck's engines. Just so they remembered who he was. He buzzed the Tower, all engines feathered. I–”

“No. Three, three engines–” Major Veal interrupted, holding up three fingers. “He still had one.”

Bubbles agreed. “I remember he called you ‘One Engine Cleven’.”

Biddick hushed the interruption. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm– I'm telling the story here, All right? It's my story. It's four engines. Next thing I see this fort sailing twenty-five feet over the runway. Yeah,” Biddick clicked his tongue, giving a dramatic pause, “silent as the grave.”

“Beautiful.” 

“Hmm.”

“Wanted to do that all my life.” Egan murmured, smiling at Gale. 

Those around the table collectively laughed or agreed, a comradery between those of the 100th and their experiences together. Gale shook his head, a hint of color on his cheeks from the attention. 

A barely heard laugh escaped Abby's lips as she watched Egan squeeze Gale's cheeks, further embarrassing the man. 

Kidd raised his whiskey. “I'll drink to that. No Engine Cleven.”

“No Engine Cleven. Here we go. Hear hear!” Those of the 100th tapped their drinks together, too caught up in their own merriment to see the side-eyes and mocking looks by the RAF pilots.  “And here's to Ken and Sluggar for being there to fix us up after!”

With the attention of them, Abby raised her head and grabbed her drink. After clinking her glass against those within reach, she took a sip and licked her lips. She stared at the amber liquid, wondering if she should be worried that it no longer burned when traveling down her throat. Maybe her body was used to it by now? For experimental reasons, she sipped again. What warmth filled her belly was dashed with an icy blast as her gaze locked with the RAF pilot-Byron she thought she heard his companion say. He raised his own glass to her, a mock salute, before taking a sip. Meanwhile his rakish gaze never left her. With a repressed shudder, she looked away and tossed the rest of her whiskey back. She could feel his hands on her again, even if it was only in her mind. 

As if summoned, her hazel eyes connected to the baby blues of Gale's. A slight furrow between his brows betrayed his relaxed posture. She saw his gaze shift to look at the Brits and then back at her. A question there but one she did not want to answer. Even if she tried, the words tangled on her tongue in knots. She leaned her head back against Ken's shoulder, lazily watching the lights around them. 

When Byron spoke up again, Abby wondered if the idiot liked confrontation, especially with his haunty, arrogant tone. “Would you have rather been a fighter pilot, major?” 

Egan snapped, clearly hearing the Brit's tone also. “Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”

“And so are you, Bucky.” Bubbles added. 

Egan shook Bubbles’ hand. “And so are you.”

“So, let me get this straight.” The visibly confused younger RAF leaned forward, pointing a finger between the two majors across from him. “You're Buck and he's Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?” Byron asked, causing laughter between himself and his two companions. 

Yet Egan's response instantly sobered the group, reminding everyone of the truth of war. 

“No. Just a shortage of crews.”

Bryon stated. “Hmm. Pity.”

Egan nodded along, head bouncing in a way that hinted at his lack of sobriety. “Pity. Pity. Yeah. Pity, pity, pity. What?”

“I said it's a pity.” The RAF explained. “You'd have more if you flew your missions at night.”

The underlying tension returned like a heavy cloud just above their heads. 

Abby watched, shocked the Brit would bring the topic back up again. When his gaze darted her way, everything clicked in her mind. Confrontation. The bastard liked the tension and arguments. She had hurt his ego or something else equally foolish and now he needed to feel…something. Her brain could not even fathom what at this point. Her hazy thoughts darted away like minnows in a pond, back and forth, but there was one she finally scooped up. Without a second thought to the legitimacy of it, she poured it out onto the table. 

“Ohhh I get it.” She sat up and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing to see past the fog in her mind. “You're just taking the piss outta them cause you're mad I wouldn't let you stick your hand up my dress.”

Byron barely looked her way as he sneered. “With the way you've portrayed yourself, it's clear you have a deficient lack of taste and standards.”

What tension hung over the table immediately redoubled at the scathing remark. What once had been a brewing storm cloud now transformed into a hurricane. 

“Sonofabitch.” Ken muttered, starting to rise from his chair. 

Abby narrowed her eyes and glared at the smug bastard. Yet in the back of her mind, the stinging thoughts from earlier hovered, as if the Brit's comment had unknowingly opened the door for their return. Stinging thoughts of inadequacy, of never being good enough…

To her surprise, Major Egan was the first to speak, breaking the shocked silence. “Why'd you have to go and say something like that? Especially about Slugger.” 

“Well, perhaps I was getting bored of all the heavy petting going on at your end of the table.”

Egan squinted his eyes. “I don't even know what that means. What's that mean?”

Veal echoed beside him. “What does that mean?”

The two men continued to question, seemingly conversing with only each other as everyone else remained silent.  

“What's that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“What's that mean?”  Egan finally turned back to the Brits, a hard glint in his eyes. 

Byron grinned, as if enjoying every moment of this. “Let's make a bit of sport ourselves. How about it? For the lady's honor.”

To Abby's further surprise, Gale was the first to reply, eyes like steel as he stared down the RAF pilot. “I think that's an excellent idea.”

Biddick's quiet, “Oh, here we go,” was lost as Egan started to stand only to be roughly shoved back into his seat by Gale. 

“Abby.” Ken got her attention, his own focus jumping between the Brits and herself. She could clearly see his want to protect her honor himself but also his concern for her wellbeing. “We can leave if you want…you-we don't have to watch.”

“No…no. I want to.”

“Okay.”

The two mechanics followed the crowd spilling out onto the dark street in front of the pub, only the full moon and stars illuminating them. Somehow word about the fight must have circulated since more members of the 100th emerged from the pub, drinks in hand and drunken cheers on their lips. 

“What does RAF mean?” Biddick called out as he finally stepped outside. 

“Riffraff.” Someone answered, much to the other's amusement. 

Abby was mildly stunned when she saw Biddick taking his jacket off and shaking his arms out. She thought Gale was the one to pick up the verbal gauntlet but she must have missed something. Perhaps he only meant he thought a fight was a good idea, not that he would be throwing the punches. From what gossip she heard, Gale was not much of a fighter, typically having to break up fights instead. But she could have sworn there was something in his eyes when he voiced his agreement….

Not that it mattered now. 

Her feet guided her to the edge of the impromptu boxing ring. A part of her envied Biddick, the foolish wish to trade places with him so she could defend her own honor and punch the asshole. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to remain on for sidelines. However wonderful the retribution would feel, she could not risk the discipline. Not again. 

“You alright there, Abby?”

Caught up in her own swirling thoughts and wishes, she had not realized she placed herself between her cousin and Gale, the major standing within arm's reach. She glanced at him, noting his gaze focused on her. Warmth flooded her cheeks that was certainly a delayed reaction to all the alcohol she consumed. “I'm fine.” 

Before Gale could comment or refute her statement, Egan slung an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “Now why does this sport interest you?”

“Boxing?”

“Mm-mmm.”

Gale fiddled with the toothpick still in his mouth. “Test of manhood.”

“That so?”

“About as true a measure of your will to fight as any, and it's man-to-man.”

“Oh, so you just don't like team sports? How'd you end up commander of a plane leading a squadron in a war, where you don't want to be on the losing side, and still not like team sports?” Bucky nudged Gale's cheek with his fist. 

“I just don't lose sleep over whether the pinstripes beat the polka dots.”

Abby giggled to herself at Gale's response. 

Egan sighed, clearly not as amused at his best friend's humor. “Right. Well, we're all just uniforms anyway. You know that?”

Gale did not reply, his attention focused as the boxing ring solidified. Spectators, made up almost entirely of 100th Bomb Group, stood in a circle exchanging bets or holding onto their pints as they drunkenly cheered Biddick on. 

Cracking his knuckles, Byron stepped forward but instead of looking at his opponent, his gaze landed on Abby. She stilled under his brazen gaze, shocked by the audacity of him. 

“Hey, Curt!” She called out, holding the Brit's gaze. 

“Yeah, Abby?”

“Kick his ass.”

Biddick barked a laugh. “Yes, ma'am!”

If looks could kill, she would have been cremated twice over and that still would not satisfy the RAF pilot. His gaze had turned glacial cold and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sneer. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the company around her and the knowledge that the bastard could not hurt her with so many of the 100th surrounding her. With a shit-eating grin, she continued to hold his gaze until he looked away with a huff and roll of his shoulders. 

“Ya heard the lady, sounds like I've gotta kick your ass!” Biddick taunted, bringing his fists up. 

Byron scoffed. “I'll try not to step on you.” 

Biddick and the RAF pilot began circling each other, sizing one another up while those around threw out jeers of their own. 

“Now, seems like you like to do your fighting at night, Byron.” Biddick taunted. 

The Brit threw a swing that Biddick easily dodged. A few cheers sounded and as the Brit prepared to take another swing, but Biddick made his move. He lashed out with his own well-timed shot, knocking his opponent immediately to the dirty cobblestones.  

“Oof. Must have felt that, right?” Curt gloated, standing above his downed opponent. “Guess who can hit their target at night!”

The other RAF pilots call for space, pushing away spectators and gathering up their unconscious captain.

“How'd I do, dollface?” Biddick asked as he slid over between Egan and Gale, earning pats on the back from those around him. 

“You did good, Biddick.”

He wagged his finger at her. “No, no. You called me ‘Curt’, don't start this again.”

She giggled, despite herself. “Thank you, Curt.”

“As my lady commands.” Curt snagged her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

She laughed at the comical scene along with those standing around. After he released her hand, Egan lifted the victorious pilot and swung him around to the cheers of the men. 

“Never mess with the Irish!” Curt yelled with his hands up in the air. 

“It's a pity!”

“Oh, what a shame!”

Abby giggled as the merriment wandered down the dark road, with Egan almost dropping Biddick as he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Ken's then leaned her head against his shoulder. By now she could feel the effects of the whiskey further, that loose tipsy feeling now held an strong undercurrent of tiredness. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment as she sighed. 

“This was fun.” She murmured to her cousin. 

But the drawl that answered was most certainly not that of her cousin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

Her eyes snapped open and she wheeled back, stumbling on the cobblestones. Only the fast hands of Gale reaching out to steady her saved her from the embarrassment of falling onto her backside. 

“I'm so sorry…I thought you were Ken.”

“It's alright. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He slowly released her forearms, as if worried she would slip to the ground without his touch. Which truthfully was not an irrational notion. Hyper aware of her body and how the ground seemed to shift ever so slightly under her feet, she took a cautious step forward and then another, arms held out for balance.  

“I did it!” 

He chuckled, taking the two steps to stand by her. “That's real good, Abby. Can you make it back to base?”

“Ohhh.” She glanced around. “Where's Ken?”

“I'm not certain. I think he left with the group.”

She sighed, eyes still looking around like Ken would pop out of the shadows. “He was next to me I thought…and we were going to walk back together…now I'm here alone.”

“I'll walk you back.” 

“You don't have too, I'm sure you want to walk with your Bucky and the others.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think they left me behind as well.”

She looked around their surroundings, truly realizing that the group was no longer in sight. Actually, no one was in sight. “Oh. Where did they go?” They could not have gotten far in this short of time, she figured, mostly likely hidden by the buildings further up the road.

“I would assume back to base.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Shall we?”

She nodded, happy she would not have to make the trek alone. At this point she was unsure if she would even know where to go. Her thoughts were fuzzy like little caterpillars inching along, without direction or reason. But pretty at least. 

After one last look at the dark exterior of the pub behind them, Abby fell into step beside Gale. A companionable silence drifted around them like the breeze. Her mind wandered with each step, admiring the stars to dodging the potholes to eyeing the landscape on either side of the road they walked. Memories of the time at the pub glided through occasionally, bringing a smile to her face. She hoped they could go out again soon. 

While her mind wandered, her body remained alert to the man beside her; whose hand barely caressed her lower back when she misstepped, whose hand tentatively held her forearm when they maneuvered around a pothole, whose body radiated a warmth that was addicting…

Time was an abstract thought, all that mattered was the current moment…and at the current moment, her feet hurt. With each step she took, it was becoming harder and harder to stay steady. The cobblestones kept gripping onto her Mary Janes like vines trying to wrap around her feet and yank her down. The heels pinched and rubbed along her feet, having been unused for so long, what calluses she once had softened. 

“Ugh.” She stopped, unable to take it any longer. Reaching a hand over to grip Gale's arm and steady herself, she started on the buckles. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She barely heard his question as she mumbled under breath about stupid shoes and uneven roads. Finally, with a triumphant grin, she held up both shoes in her free hand. “Ta da! Now my feet are safe!”

He shook his head. “You'll tear your feet up without shoes on this road.”

She waved away his concern. “It's fine. I did it all the time as a child.”

“Abby–”

Giggling, she hugged his arm against her body and gazed up at him. “Please, Gale? Please?” 

He stared down at her. The surrounding darkness shielding some of their features, masking their expressions. After a long moment, he murmured a quiet ‘shit’ followed by a slightly louder, “alright, Abby.”

She giggled, nuzzling into his arm for a brief moment, closing her eyes to allow her brain to stop suddenly spinning. 

“You alright there?” He softly asked. 

“Hmmm…my head hurts.”

“Yeah? Do you need to go to medical?”

She shook her head, face still pressed against his arm. “Just need to sleep.”

“Alright, let's get you back to base.”

They started walking again, Gale leading the way down the dark road. Her arms still contained his arm, like a ship's mast to cling to during a storm, her head sometimes bumping against his shoulder. Her heels dangled from her hand, tapping against her thigh with each step. 

A soothing warmth rolled off of him in waves, skating across her skin and drawing her in. A small rational part of her screamed that her actions were unbecoming and inappropriate, an echo of her mother from far away. Yet that small voice was drowned out by the alcohol blazing through her veins and the chill of the night air, forcing her body to seek warmth where it could. 

Her hazy mind recalled the pub, the angry pilot and the fight outside. The flickering lights of the inside. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring at her from across the table. Those soft blues burning when he stood up to fight the RAF pilot…

“Thank you.”

“Mmm?”

“For…for standing up for me against that bastard.” Abby explained. “He wasn't nice.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

She stumbled, more from the frostiness of his tone than the actual road, but quickly righted herself. “No, but he finally got the message when I stomped on his foot with my heel.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Sluggar.”

“He was an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“An assy-asshole. A big one.”

He chuckled quietly.  

They walked further down the road with only the moon and starlight to guide their step and the distant sound of their companions up ahead, talking loudly in the otherwise quiet countryside. 

Abby tripped, pitching forward and almost dragging her companion down with her, if he had not wrapped both arms around her. 

“Why's the road moving?” She giggled, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. “I almost dropped my heels…I like these heels!” 

“Hey, you with me, Abby?” 

She ignored Gale's question as she looked down to the offender beneath her bare feet. “Stop moving! You'll hurt my heels!” 

“Christ…” He sighed. “Hold onto your shoes.”

“Why?”

“I'm gonna carry you.”

She owlishly blinked up at him. “Why?”

“You can't walk.”

“...I can't?”

He snorted while shaking his head, mumbling under his breath but all she caught was something vaguely resembling ‘adorable’, still too caught up in why she could not walk. Which made no sense. Her feet were still on the ground…even if the ground rolled like waves and she was a ship being tossed about.  She had been walking. Why was she not walking now? 

“Climb onto my back.” He commanded, keeping a hold of her hands as he turned to crouch in front of her. 

“I can walk…”

He groaned, tugging on her hands to draw them around his neck. “Darling, you're killin’ me. Climb on.”

“Okay, okay.” She tried to gracefully hug his back, but what grace she possessed disappeared about the same time the road was no longer stationary. A flop more described her accession onto his back. Her mind was vaguely aware that she was in a dress and the inappropriateness of the situation. But it was dark and she was tired…

Once her hands were secure around his neck, heels still dangling from her fingers, he slipped his arms under her legs. With a grunt, he stood. The motion caused Abby to burrow her face against the side of his neck. 

“You alright?” His voice rumbled out of him, soaking into her chest as she was pressed against his back.

“Hmmm…you smell nice. Better than Ken.”

He snorted. “Thank you.”

It was now with her feet exposed to the cool night air she could feel the sting of the air against the bottom of her feet. “My feet hurt again.”

“I figured. You kept stumbling and whimpering. I don't think you realized.”

“Oh. I think…I think I'm a little drunk?”

“Perhaps a little.”

The rocking of Gale's gait was making her stomach roll, so she stuck her forehead against his neck, trying to focus on his warmth and his musky cologne. “I don't know why. I only had a few shots of whiskey.”

“Mmm.”

“You know…I bet you're a good dancer.” She was unsure in the muddied pond of her thoughts where that one came from or why it slipped off her tongue so easily. 

“I don't dance often.”

“Why? That's terrible. I bet you're wonderful.”

He shrugged his shoulders, stride never wavering. “Doesn't appeal to me much, I guess.”

“Well, I'll take you dancing. It'll be fun! Maybe under the stars. They're always so pretty.” 

He hummed after a moment. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” She squeezed his neck as she giggled. “Don't go dancing without me! It'll be fun! I mean–I guess unless you find someone really pretty who wants to dance. Then it makes sense. But you should dance. You'd be wonderful.”

“I don't think you need to worry about that, darling.” 

“But there's so many pretty nurses on base…and those radio operators! They're all so pretty…and they like to dance.” She tried to make him understand. It truly was silly he did not dance. 

“Yeah, but I'm not interested in any of them.” The words coated in his raspy drawl floated around her head, something in them trying to catch her notice like little beacons. But their lights went out before her muddled brain could understand. 

“That's terrible for them. A lot of them have a crush on you.”

“Mmm.”

“Don't tell Major Egan. He'll be jealous.”

Gale gave a bark of laughter. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She pressed her forehead back against his neck. His warmth and the repetitive feeling of his breathing against her chest was lulling her to sleep. “I love the stars. No matter where you are, they're always beautiful.” The thought rolled off her tongue unprovoked, even as her eyelids drifted shut. 

“Buck?!”

The loud shout startled her from the inviting blanket of sleep wrapping around her. She blinked for a moment but allowed her eyes to close once again, face still against Gale's neck. 

“Yeah, John. It's me.” Gale called back. 

Two sets of footsteps approached, disrupting the quiet English night. 

“Any chance that's Abby with you?” Kidd asked. 

“Yeah, I've got her.”

“Good.” Kidd stated, falling into step with Gale on his left. “Ken was looking for her. I told him I figured she was walking with you, but apparently not walking.”

“She hurt her feet.” Gale explained softly. 

Egan loudly scoffed from Gale's right side.“Uh huh. That's the excuse you're going with?”

“Bucky–” 

“I'm just saying–”

Kidd interrupted, genuine concern in his voice. “Does she need to go to medical?”

“I'm fine, sir.” Abby sleepily slurred, her words muffled since she refused to move her face from its current position. “Can you tell the other one to stop being a damn loud asshat or I'll kick his ass.”

Gale chuckled, the vibrations going through her chest making her almost purr like a cat. If she snuggled closer to him, hoping to prolong the sensation, no one needed to know. 

“Slugger has a mouth on her!” Egan laughed, poking her arm. 

She grunted at the annoying sensation, hoping the major took the wordless reprimand or she would definitely kick his ass. After a nap. 

“Only when drunk it seems.” Gale answered his best friend.

“I'm not drunk…just a little drunk.” She mumbled. 

“My apologies. Just a little.” Gale softly replied, leaning his head against hers for a brief moment. She sighed at the contact, something loosening in her chest at the sensation although she was too drunk to put it into words. 

“Did you see that swing Curt made! I bet even Dimaggio can't swing like that!” Egan exclaimed. With his volume and enthusiasm, Abby might have noticed his own drunken state if she was sober. “I'm surprised you didn't want to take a swing at him yourself, Slugger.”

“ ‘m not allowed.”

Silence hung heavy over the group for several moments as the men tried to process her muffled response. It was Egan who asked the looming question first. 

“Not allowed? What's that mean?”

She sighed, turning her head to face Egan so he could understand her better. “After last time, Huglin told me he'd kick me off the airbase if I hit anyone else. Said it was unbecoming or something.”

The shocked silence lasted for all of three seconds before Egan exploded like a firecracker. 

“That sonofabitch! I knew I disliked him before but…Jesus Christ! Jack, did you know about this?”

“No.”

“I can't believe–” 

“John, he's gone.” Gale spoke up, trying to soothe his friend's righteous temper. “Nothing to do about it now.” 

“Thank God! I can't believe he's would–”

The tirade of Egan became background noise when Gale turned his head slightly towards her. “Abby.” Slowly she turned her face back towards him. A spark shot through her as his lips skimmed her forehead, while his whisper sunk like a seed planted into fruitful soil. “Next time something like this happens, you give me a nod. I'll take care of him for you.”

“Like tonight? That RAF prick?”

“Yeah. Like tonight…but I'll knock his teeth in instead of Curt doing it.”

She giggled. “I wanna see that.”

The rising and falling of voices up ahead like waves called her attention, guessing it was the group that abandoned them at the pub. She could see they had entered the airbase, although she did not remember her and Gale passing by the gate. Sleep danced around her mind like fireflies, tempting and teasing but she knew she would not be able to catch them yet. 

“I can probably walk now.”

“Are you sure?” Gale questioned without breaking stride. 

She hummed. “I'll be fine. It's not too far from here.”

Gale stopped walking, but instead of setting her down right away, he hesitated. His grip on her thighs twitched, tightening fractionally as if reluctant to let go. With a sharp release of breath, he finally helped her slide down. The warmth and strength of his hands continued to hold her upright as she found her balance back on the hard-packed ground. With her heels in one hand, the other hand ran down her dress, attempting to smooth any wrinkles and to confirm she was in no way indecent. Alcohol was freely skipping through her veins but not enough for her to forget her modesty. Or what was left of it after riding piggyback on Major Gale Cleven…

“Good?” He softly asked, hovering over her like a guardian angel. 

She nodded with faux confidence, standing upright and attempting to brush her hair over her shoulder. Mindful of the lack of space between them, she raised her gaze to meet his, wanting to thank him for helping her. Something he certainly did not have to do. Even though it was dark, she could feel those baby blue eyes earnestly staring down at her. His warm hands still loosely rested just above her elbows, maintaining their connection. 

“Abby?”

Unconsciously, she found herself tipping closer towards him, drawn back into his aura, his presence, that lean, toned body that was safe. It would be so easy to press her head against his chest, to wrap her arms around him and just dive into to the abyss of sleep summoning her. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, closing her eyes and doing just that. Her forehead landed on his breastbone, an initial sting but quickly ignored. Why did he smell so good? 

“You're welcome, darling.” 

His whisper barely floated on the breeze, words she almost missed if she had not felt them in her chest. 

“Mmm…I wanna sleep with you.”

Gale choked. His chest rumbled and sputtered like he was trying desperately to catch his breath, making Abby's head jostle uncomfortably. Something she did not like as she was oh so close to giving into sleep again. 

A sharp bark of laughter sounded nearby but that was irrelevant to Abby at the moment. 

“You're so warm…ugh, I'm so sleepy. Why does alcohol make me sleepy? I don't like it.” 

“Let's get you to bed.” Gale finally said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“M'kay…”

Gale led her a few steps, her feet shuffling along. 

“KEN! SHE'S WITH US!” Major Egan shouted loudly. 

Less than a minute later, she could hear her cousin approach, an frantic undertone beneath his words. “Abigail Lemmons! Where'd you go? Shit! Is she hurt?” He directed that last question towards Gale. 

“Go away.” 

“She's fine, just drunk. The road was too rough on her feet.”

They answered at the same time, although her response might have been less words and more of a grunt. 

“Thank heavens.” Ken exhaled in relief, running his hand through his messy curls. “My family would have killed me if something happened to her.”

Ken reached out, attempting to take her hand. “Come on, let's get you back.”

“Nooo…” She swatted his hand away. 

“Abby.”

She swatted at him again, an irrational irritation bubbling up as he disturbed her almost sleep. “Go away, I'm sleeping with Gale.”

She missed the mixture of reactions of those who overheard her declaration, too focused on burrowing closer to the comfy warmth of the man holding her. God, she just needed to sleep! 

“For fuck's sake, Abigail!” Ken half groaned, half swore. 

Suddenly, Simon was there standing beside Ken. “Hey, Abby, I've got you. Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep with the major tomorrow.”

Even as she felt her body being transferred from Gale's lithe form to Simon's muscular body, her mind refused to accept this and fought back with excuses. 

“Nooo…we're going dancin’ tomorrow. He's a good dancer.”

Simon chuckled, hauling her into his broad chest and carrying her bridal style. “I'm sure he is.”

“Wait…wait! Abigail?” Egan stumbled over, throwing his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “That's her real name?” 

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you think ‘Abby’ came from?”

The dark-haired major threw his head back laughing uproariously, “it's perfect!”

“You're drunk.” Gale tried, unsuccessfully, to corral his friend.

“What's perfect?” Ken asked. 

“Abigail! You get it? Abigail!” Egan drunkenly explained with all his sober confidence. “She's meant to have some 'Gale' inside her. Now all Buck has to do is make his move and stick–” 

But Egan did not get to finish explaining his epiphany as his best friend suddenly and viciously slapped a hand over Egan's mouth and pulled him into a headlock, growling something into his ear. 

“Goddamn children.” Kidd sighed from nearby. 

Abby blinked slowly, hearing the words but her fuzzy brain was unable to string it together to form a coherent thought. “I don't get it.”

“Don't worry about it. Let's get you to bed.” Simon chuckled. 

Ken called out, “night, majors!”

Abby glanced over, wanting to say her own goodbyes but with the way that Gale was attempting to suffocate Egan while Kidd watched on with his arms crossed, she guessed they were busy. 

She barely remembered Simon carrying her to her hut, only the night's cold nipping at her bare skin, and the muffled conversation between Ken, Simon and Winks. How she managed to get into bed will always be a mystery to her, somehow she must have been aware enough to fall onto her cot and not just curl up on the floor. Although in the morning she would wake up still in her dress with a hangover and a lot of explaining to do for those intrusive, inquisitive nurses she bunked with. 

All she did know as she drifted off, that night was the first time she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face in a long time. 

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

masterlist is hereeee <3 come get y'all's juice

08. And What Else?

The world was bright beyond her closed eyelids. Stella would have liked to see it but she didn’t have the strength to peel her eyes open just yet. The only way to take stock of her surroundings was to try to focus on what she could hear and feel.

There was someone close by. She could hear them breathing. Potentially they were sitting beside her bed?

She was definitely in a bed. She was lying down and there was a pillow beneath her head and a scratchy blanket pulled over her. There was something wrapped around both of her hands, something itchy and coarse and uncomfortable, and her head hurt, and that was when Stella recalled what had happened and where she was as a result.

The infirmary. Because the plane she’d been ferrying had been shot at. Because her flying had been careless and unrefined.

She was going to be in so much trouble.

It took her a while to work up the strength to move, but she found it in her hands before she found it in her eyes. Her fingers twitched first, starting at her pinkies until she could move all of them on both hands. And then she could move her hands - there were bandages wrapped around them, she could feel them properly now - and then her arms.

She moved slowly, laboriously so, because the strength she built wasn’t the strength she was used to, but eventually she managed to lift her forearms enough until her hands were clasped together in the centre of her chest.

“Ow,” she mumbled as her head started pounding.

She tried to move her arms again, tried to plant her hands beside her on the mattress to push herself up to sit, but she accidentally knocked something off the bed in the process. There was a soft thud as whatever it was hit the floor, then the rustling of whoever was closeby leaning down to presumably pick it up.

“Ow,” Stella said again as she peeled her eyes gradually open. At first only a sliver of the room was visible, but after she squeezed her eyes tight shut one more time she managed to wrench them all the way open.

John Egan was leaning over her when she properly saw the world for the first time after waking. 

He froze in place, his arm extended across her, turning his head to meet her eyes. A deer in headlights.

“Get. Off. Me,” Stella managed to grit out.

John gave her a grin. “Hi.” He finished whatever he was doing before retreating to his chair, showing her his hands to assure her he wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t supposed to. When he was settled he gestured to her. “Your teddy bear fell on the floor. And you said you can’t sleep without him. So I was just putting him back where he was.”

It seemed like a stupid excuse, but when Stella checked, her teddy bear really was tucked up beneath her arm, his face turned into her neck.

“It’s not nice to push him to the floor like that, Stels,” John said next when she didn’t say anything. He had a wry smile on his face. “What did he ever do to you?”

When she swallowed, Stella found her throat thick, like it was full of cotton wool. It wasn’t sore so much as dry, and it tasted strange, tangy and sour.

“You want water?” John deduced.

Imperceptibly, Stella gave a nod.

He hurried off to get some.

Stella had to squint into the light spilling over her from the window opposite her bed to watch him. She could vaguely recall him telling her about the big windows in the infirmary and he’d evidently been correct; they were the kind of windows Stella would have expected to find in some fancy manor house, framed with ornate curtains and hinting at the opulence which lay inside.

The bed wasn’t as comfortable as John had promised her, though.

She missed her bunk back in her hut.

John returned with water and a nurse. She was pretty and hot on his heels, already analysing Stella’s form as they crossed the room to her.

“First Officer Finley,” the nurse greeted. “How are you feeling?” Before Stella could reply, she skirted around the bed and, gesturing for John to assist her, helped Stella to sit up. John held her upright while the nurse adjusted her pillows, and then Stella was leaning back against the bedframe, her head spinning, her vision swimming.

“Water,” the nurse said as she watched her. She accepted the glass from John and held it to Stella’s lips, then gently tipped it back to help her sip it. “Slow and steady,” she directed. “That’s right. That’s good. We don’t want you choking, now, do we?”

Stella had never felt so weak in all her life. There just seemed to be no energy at all in her body. Her limbs felt like they were made of concrete, weighing her down as opposed to helping her move, and her head felt like it was made of air, constantly trying to float up and detach itself from her body.

But her vision righted itself soon enough, and the water helped to ease that cotton wool sensation in her throat and mouth. Tentatively, she cleared her throat a couple of times, then ventured carefully, “How sick am I?”

The nurse gave her a smile. “You’re not sick at all,” she informed her kindly. “Just a little bit worse for wear. But you’ve been asleep for a couple of days which has helped your body to heal the worst of the damage. We’ll only keep you in here a little while longer while we monitor your head.”

“Will I fly again?”

John smiled to himself as the nurse answered, “Absolutely. In about a week’s time, I’d imagine, if you follow all our orders and take it easy.”

“How angry is my CO?”

“I’ve already talked to him,” John cut in. His voice was level, calm, reassuring. When Stella’s eyes sought him out he was giving her a small smile. “He won’t cause you any trouble, Stels. I’ve taken care of it.”

“Why would you do that?” Her voice was small. Her hands were wringing the blanket where it was pooled in her lap.

John’s smile turned wry, almost bitter. “Because believe it or not, Stels, I’m not actually a terrible guy. You took me under your wing a little when I got here, thought it was time I returned the favour.”

His eyes were difficult to read even as they stared intensely into her own.

Stella looked away, diverting her attention to the movement of her hands in her lap.

A few beats of silence followed before the nurse cleared her throat. “I’ll go see about getting you some lunch, First Officer Finley,” she said abruptly. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” Stella offered to her retreating form.

The nurse gave her a hasty smile over her shoulder.

“So, um,” John began once the nurse had departed. He settled back into his chair and crossed one leg over the top of the other, resting his ankle on his knee. His hands lay clasped together in his lap. “I’d ask how you’re feeling but I’m pretty sure I can guess.”

Stella eyed him thoughtfully. “How long was I asleep?”

“A day and a half, give or take,” John replied.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“A day and a half, give or take.”

Stella raised her eyebrows.

John laughed, relenting. “I’ve been here whenever Alice and Jessop couldn’t. We wanted to make sure you didn’t have to wake up alone. Today I’ve been here since around 0800, came straight from my meeting. I skipped breakfast for you, Stels.” He widened his eyes at her meaningfully.

Stella’s throat was tight all of a sudden, tighter than it had been when she woke up. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

John shrugged. “Wanted to.”

The two of them watched each other for a few beats, each of them thoughtful, before John cleared his throat and lowered his leg, sitting forward in his chair. “So, uh, anyway. Alice brought some of your stuff.” He leaned towards the bedside table and picked up a pile of books. “Hope you’ll be proud to know I’m something of an expert on hummingbirds now. Those are your favourite, right?”

Entirely against her will, Stella let out a soft laugh. “Yes. Hummingbirds,” she confirmed.

John set the pile of books down in his lap and held them up individually to show her which ones were there. “Which one do you want?” he asked once he had finished showing them to her.

Stella smiled to herself as he held them all up again. She pointed to the second one he held up, which he set down gently in her lap accordingly.

“You finished that one yet?” he asked, inclining his head towards the book she’d chosen.

“Not yet,” Stella replied. “I got halfway through before I was shot out of the sky.”

“Ah.” John nodded wisely. “That’ll interrupt your reading time,” he acknowledged. He met her eyes again and grinned. “Excellent part at the end about flamingos. You got a lot to look forward to.”

Stella couldn’t help the laugh which burst out of her but John didn’t seem to mind that it was almost obnoxiously loud, especially in the quiet of the infirmary, nor that it was croaky and dry, nor that she snorted a little bit afterwards. He just smiled back at her, shrugging.

“Anyway, flowers are from Curt,” he went on.

Stella followed his gaze to find a bunch of wildflowers gathered into a vase on the bedside table. They were pretty, although clearly haphazardly pulled out of the ground. But Stella was touched by the sentiment.

“I like Curt,” Stella said in her quiet croak as she looked at the flowers, a small smile on her face. “Will you thank him for me?”

John nodded, setting his eyes on the flowers along with her. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks.”

He inclined his head towards her in acceptance of her thanks.

They lapsed into silence, each avoiding each other’s eyes, before John cleared his throat with palpable awkwardness. “So, uh,” he began, “what’s your teddy bear’s name?”

Stella watched him warily. “Ralph,” she replied. She steeled herself in preparation for the inevitable teasing.

“Ralph,” John echoed, nodding. “I like that. Ralph.”

Stella nodded slightly back at him, her eyes dipping to seek the teddy bear tucked up beneath her arm. “I’ve had him since I was a baby,” she explained.

John nodded again.

Stella stared at him and then she laughed. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. I’m…” She really had to force herself to get the words out. “I’m grateful that you stayed and that you were here when I woke up. So thank you for that. Especially because…” Again, she had to grit the words out with no shortage of reluctance. In the end, she shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him when she said them. “Especially because I haven’t been very nice to you. So thank you for staying anyway. But it’s okay if you go now. I don’t mind.”

John didn’t reply immediately.

Stella was unnerved by his silence. 

When she wrenched her eyes back open she found him looking at her curiously. “Why would I leave now?” he asked. “You’re still in the infirmary.”

“But I’m awake.”

“Exactly,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “Surely it makes more sense that I stay now than it did when you were passed out.”

Stella quirked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you busy?”

John shrugged.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I have things I can do. I have books I can read.”

John just blinked at her. And then, slowly, a smile started to spread across his lips. “Y’know, Stels, you do a pretty good job of pretending you don’t like me but I don’t think that’s true. Why don’t you just accept that you don’t mind having me around?”

Stella narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you care so much about being my friend all of a sudden?”

John scoffed and slouched back into his chair. He tilted his head back, making a show of stretching out his arms before he clasped his hands behind his head. “Stels, why do you have to make everything so goddamn difficult?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed.

“Maybe I just wanna be your friend,” John said, lowering his arms and his head so he could look at her. “Maybe I just like spending time with you. No ulterior motives. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“Because I don’t understand what you have to gain by being friends with me,” Stella replied. “You’ve got all your friends here now and I’ve made it clear you’re not getting me into bed. You’ve got hundreds of other options where women are concerned and no need, really, to be hanging around with a lowly ATA pilot. So why are you trying so hard?”

“Being friends with people ain’t about gaining things,” John insisted in reply. “Who taught you that’s the way friendships work?”

“That’s the way the world works,” Stella told him. “Nothing is given freely. If you think it is, you're blind. I didn’t take you for naïve, John.”

“So what do you gain from your friendships with Alice and Jessop, huh?” John challenged her. “And what do they get from you?”

“Those are friendships of convenience,” Stella informed him prosaically. “We work together. Alice and I live in the same hut. But they don’t really care about me. I’m under no illusions about whether or not we’d still be friends if one of us transferred to another base, or if the war ever ends and we all go our separate ways.”

John’s eyes were hard as he stared back at her. “They don’t care about you,” he repeated.

“No,” Stella confirmed.

“Bullshit,” he said.

Stella rolled her eyes. “I’m not having this debate with you, John.”

“Bullshit, Stels!” he insisted. “I saw for myself that they care about you! You’ve been in the infirmary almost two days and they’ve been here every moment they can. Alice got all your stuff and Jessop argued with the nurses until they gave you a bed right in the corner, as far away from everyone else as possible so you could have your privacy. And you think they don’t care about you?” He shook his head in disbelief. “And even if they didn’t, are you really gonna sit there and tell me that you don’t care about them?”

Stella’s voice was cold when she replied. “I’m different.”

“Why?”

She had to take a moment to work up her courage but it turned out she was so angry, so irritated, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel embarrassed anyway. “You said it yourself,” she told him lowly. “I care more about everyone else than they care about me. It’s the way it’s always been. You’ve seen it first hand, even - you saw what happened with my brother. It’s always been like that.”

John didn’t shy away from the coldness in her gaze. He just stared back at her for a few moments. And then: “It doesn’t have to be that way, Stels.”

“It is that way, John.” She shook her head, took her teddy bear out from under her arm and sat him on her lap so he was facing her, then squeezed under his arms. Her eyes were on him, on her bear, when she spoke. “You don’t see it because you’re the type of person people want to know. People enjoy being friends with you - they gravitate towards you, even. And I’m not like that. Men want to know me because they think I’m pretty but then they find out I’m hard work and they’re not interested anymore. Everyone else just thinks I’m difficult - argumentative and arrogant and abrasive. The only reason Alice can probably stand to be around me is because we’re the only two female pilots on this whole base and she’s so relaxed about everything she never takes my tantrums to heart. But I’m not deluding myself into thinking that we’d be friends in any other situation. I’m too difficult.”

John was shaking his head. He’d sat back in his chair about halfway through her speech, a rueful, disbelieving, exasperated smile on his face. He set his eyes out of the window like he couldn’t bear to look at her.

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her while she talked about herself like that. While she sat in her infirmary bed with her beaten up old teddy bear in her lap and that gash on her head, those bandages on her arms and her books about birds at her bedside.

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh at her or scream.

“You’re not difficult, Stels,” he said simply once she’d finished speaking. But he still couldn’t look at her.

“I am,” Stella objected. She tilted her chin up in defiance, like she got a kick out of insisting she was the least lovable person alive. Like she wanted to sit here and prove to him that she was everything she feared she was until he left her like she expected everyone else to. “I assume the worst in people,” she said, trying to prove her point, “and I provoke them until they show it to me. I always think I’m the best at everything. I always think I’m the smartest person in the room. I’m not kind to men when I reject them and I’m impatient with people when I think they’re being stupid. I only ever want to talk about the things which interest me and - and -”

John turned back to her and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he watched her run out of steam. “And what else?” he asked.

“And -” Stella fought for words. “And I’m -”

John shook his head. He didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want to have to watch her fight to insult herself anymore. “So what, Stels? So what if you are all that stuff? You think I’m fucking perfect? You think anyone’s perfect? Anyone at all? Your brother’s a fucking asshole to his little sister, does that make you love him any less? Does that make you expect no one’s ever gonna wanna be around him?”

“That’s different,” Stella said.

John scoffed. “It’s not different. Not at all.” He swallowed hard. “And what about me, huh? You wanna hear about everything that’s wrong with me?”

“No.” Her voice was small, like a child being told off by their mother.

“You tell me then,” he said. “You tell me everything that’s wrong with me. I’m sure it won’t be hard to think of even just a couple things.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Stella replied quietly.

“Why?”

She looked away, back down to Ralph the teddy bear. She stared at him hard, right into his eyes, the same pair of eyes she’d been looking into since she was only a day old.

“‘Cause you don’t wanna hurt my feelings,” John deduced. She could feel him watching her. “‘Cause you care about people. I was wrong to ever say that and try to make it into an insult, ‘cause it’s one of the best qualities you have. And you know what else? You’re brave. You get into broken planes everyone else is too scared to fly and you don’t even bat an eye. And you’re a damned good pilot, Stels. Nothing wrong with knowing it and making sure other people know it too. And you’re passionate about things. And you like to share those things with other people so they can enjoy ‘em with you. And you’re wrong, actually, about always assuming the worst of people. When you first meet ‘em you always assume the best. You took me under your wing as soon as you met me, remember? When I didn’t know anyone yet and I had no one to talk to after my first combat mission. You remember that?”

Stella said nothing.

“I remember it,” John told her. “I remember that fact you told me. That a bird’s eyeballs take up over fifty percent of its head while a human’s only take up ten percent.”

“Five percent,” Stella corrected him quietly.

“Five, then,” he amended.

Whatever he was about to say next - whatever either of them were about to say next - was cut off when the nurse pushed into the room bearing a tray of food for Stella.

So John sat back in his chair and Stella tucked Ralph back under her arm and they pretended not to look at each other, even though they were both watching each other out of the corner of their eyes. But right at the last moment, just before the nurse announced her return, John sat suddenly forward once more. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, making sure the nurse didn’t overhear. “You’re not a difficult person to like, Stels,” he told her. “I don’t know who made you think you are but you’re not.”

He left it at that.

[milkteaarttime]

First Meet (Pt.1)

This is the first meeting of my OC Latte with the Ghosts. A big shout out and thanks to @blacktacmopsi for allowing me to reference the MRE fic she wrote! It's my first ever fic; please be kind to me and enjoy (^ V ^ )!!!

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Hiking up the trail leading to the nearby makeshift military base was not how Latte expected to spend her weekends. Well, it's not like she had any expectations for the weekends. She's always called back to the hospital for work because of a lack of nurses after the ODIN event or because the unit is understaffed. Whenever she was promised a day off, her manager called her to get to the unit and help. So when the phone call came at 6 am, blasting her out of the peaceful sleep she was in. She was surprised that her manager tasked her not with coming into the unit to help but rather with a travel shift day. 

“Some special task force is coming to the base near us for a check-up. They said it was food poisoning related.” her manager said. 

“Isn’t it usually the RN or the nurse practitioner’s job to travel out of the hospital for checkups?” Latte asked a slight protest in her voice. 

She’d much rather stay in. Yesterday, she had a shit show of a shift, and her manager promised her she’d get today off. Although, her manager says that every time she's supposed to have a day off, only to call her anyway. So, unfortunately, Latte is used to her manager’s shenanigans by now. 

‘At least she's speaking nicer to me after I threatened to quit that one time,’ Latte thought, attempting to find the silver lining. 

“…We all did a lil’ vote and decided you should volunteer!” She said as if she was congratulating Latte for winning the lottery. “Since you’re so polite, we figured a little Canadian niceness would be better for these folks!” 

“Lauren… I don’t even have words right now.”

”Sorry, but there are only 2 RNs here today, and our nurse practitioner is sick. We can’t afford to send an RN out. Anyway, I sent you the details and the location of the base. Good luck!” 

Her manager then hung up faster than you can say, ‘Labour law violation.’ She let out a sigh before she began packing her essentials. “Stethoscope, portable pulse monitor, manual blood pressure cuff, a temporal thermometer scanner, penlight, notepad, and pen…So much for letting me have the day off, huh?” She grumbled as she listed each item being shoved in her sling bag. She looked at her comfortable room before sadly walking out, locking the door behind her.

“I think I'm almost there…” Latte mutters, looking up from her GPS and taking in her surroundings. The forest around her is a gorgeous green, dewdrops glistening in the beautiful early morning light. The lush vegetation and the crunch of gravel under her boots are a refreshing change from the narrow hallways and nose-stinging disinfectant-scented floors of the hospital unit. She was even able to see a chipmunk today. 

‘It has been a while since I could take a nice walk.’ Latte smiled, pulling down her surgical mask and inhaling the crisp morning air. A gentle breeze brushed against her face. ‘Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.’

She finally arrives at the temporary base after a rather pleasant 20-minute walk. She energetically greets the two soldiers standing guard at the entrance. Latte explains she was assigned to do nursing assessments for some soldiers here—something about a bad case of food poisoning. The guards exchange a glance, confusion and suspicion evident on their faces.

“Weren’t told anything of that sort. You don’t look like the usual nurse I’ve seen from the little hospital down the trail. Name?” The older-looking of the two soldiers chimes in sternly, narrowing his eyes at her. Taking aback by the sense of hostility from the soldiers, she quickly tried to explain,

”Uh…My name is Latte. I was sent here by—" She attempted to show them her ID and explain before being cut off. 

”Latte? Like the coffee? Look, Lady, If you are messing with us. It ain’t funny.” The soldiers begin eyeing her suspiciously. 

‘Jesus, they are not bullshiting about the security here!!’ Latte panics internally. She wasn’t sure what to do. The longer she stammers for an answer, the more suspicious the soldiers are of her. So far, any attempts at an explanation have been shut down. She wanted to say fuck it and go home, no call, no show, get fired, and maybe she won’t have to answer her inconsiderate manager’s calls, and won’t need to show up to the shitty unit the next day, and won’t need to work overtime without pay again and—

”Easy fellas, we asked for a nurse.” A different voice stuns her out of the little exhaustion-fueled spiral her mind was funnelling down. Her head whips at mach speed towards her saviour—no, saviours. She took in their appearance: an older man with short white hair followed by a man with no hair, but at least he's got a beard. The pair strolled up to where Latte was standing. The white-haired one gave her a reassuring smile before nodding to the soldiers guarding the gate,

“We called for the nurse. Some of our boys aren’t feeling too great. Sorry for the mix-up.” The soldiers guarding the gate backed off with a quick ‘yes commander,’ allowing the two men to lead Latte into the base. 

“Sorry, kid. Our men are just cautious. We can never be too careful with the feds still crawling around.” The older gentleman with white hair piped up after a little walking. The bald man behind Latte grunted in agreement. 

”Ah- Where are my manners? I’m Elias Walker, the commander of Task Force Stalkers.” Elias glanced towards Merrick. “And that's Merrick, my captain.” Merrick nods at Latte. 

"It's nice to meet you, commander and captain, um...my name is Latte, Latte Wong." She often feels a little embarrassed introducing herself. When her family first immigrated to Canada,  her mom saw the word 'Latte' on a quaint little local café's menu and decided it was cute enough for her two-year-old daughter. She wishes she received a regular English name like her little brother Viktor. He was lucky their mom didn't see his name on a café menu. Sometimes she wishes he received a dumbass name, too, so he could match her, like Americano or Muffin. She could go by her birth name, KaiXuan, but that would mean countless butchering of the pronunciation. Plus, as stupid as 'Latte' may sound, this name is given to her by her late parents, and she's reluctant to let go of it. 

“Latte? A special name you got there.” Elias chuckled, “That a nickname?” 

“No, commander. My parents didn’t speak English, and my mother thought it was cute?” she answered, nervousness creeping up her back as she tightened her grip on her bag strap. 

“You got family here?” Elias spoke up once more as they approached a building with a smaller gate. While Merrick went up to press the buzzer and verify their Identities, Elias looked at her, waiting for her answer. 

“It’s just me and my little brother after ODIN, commander.” She responded honestly. Elias nodded knowingly at her, sympathy and perhaps empathy in his gaze. Before anything else can be said, the gates open, allowing the men and her to enter the building. 

The two of them led her into a large meeting room of sorts, two of the three tables pushed near each other, making a larger table on the left side of the room, multiple giant screens mounted to the wall in front of the larger table, the last table on the other side of the room. The men sat around the larger table, some donning different yet similarly designed masks. Some notable men were one seated with a skull mask with his eyes closed, one in a white-streaked black mask, another with his mask on the table in front of him, a man with a buzzed head and an interesting facial hair style sitting next to a dark blond that looked similar to him. The one in the black mask and painted white streaks looked up from his computer at the sound of the door opening. 

“Ah Commander, and Merrick, welcome back.” He said, amused, “That didn’t take long.” The other men quieted their chatters and looked at their leaders, waiting for orders or explanations. Latte filed into the room after them, hiding behind Merrick’s stature. “It was a quick walk, Kick. We said we would be back soon.” Elias responds to Kick before turning to address the rest of the group.

“Boys, after the review we sent back to DOD, the heads decided that a health checkup must be completed to ensure that no one has lingering side effects from eating those MREs.” As Elias began, the faces of the men around the table contorted into disgust and pain at the mention of said MREs. Elias shot Merrick a glance, and Merrick moved to the side, revealing Latte’s short form. With the spotlight suddenly cast on her, she can't help but feel a little out of place under the gazes of these elite soldiers. But when her eyes scanned across the room and landed on a familiar-looking face, the buzzed head, mutton chop facial hair… She was stuck staring at him for a while as she jogged her memories to recall where she had seen him before. 

“The head sent us a nurse from nearby,” Merrick commented, then looked at Latte, expecting her to introduce herself. Realizing that the attention was directed at her again, she snapped out of the impromptu staring contest she accidentally held with mutton chops. 

“Uh…Good morning everyone…My name is Latte. I was instructed to come here at the last minute by my manager Lauren. I am from the hospital—The small one just by the base.” Latte stammered through her introduction, feeling ridiculous once more about her name and praying that no one was secretly thinking, ‘What dumbass name is Latte?’ Or smirking under their masks. “I understand that usually a more experienced nurse or a higher calibre nurse would be the one to do out-of-site visits, but something must have come up on the unit!… So, I was sent. My manager didn’t explain why, but I will do my best to assess you guys.” Latte attempted to hide the shakiness of her voice and smiled reassuringly at the men in front of her. 

“So…Uh...Let's get started! If it’s okay, I will set up a little questioning and assessment booth at that table on the far side of the room.” She looked at Elias, waiting for his approval. 

“Sure.” Elias agreed, and before he could offer his help, Latte sprung into action, grabbing two extra chairs, hauling them to the unused table, and beginning to set up. Elias looked back at the group, “So, who wants to go first?” 

[the-night-moves-writing]

Savior- The Check-ins (part two)

Winchesters x Sibling reader (sibling bond ONLY)

Castiel x Winchester Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When Castiel goes off the deep end and becomes god, he finds he still has a soft spot for the smallest Winchester

Chapter summary: When cas believes that the reader is not going to take care of themselves he begins checking in with making sure she will eat well  

Word Count: 1086

A/N: This is the second part to sisterhood i decided to make it into a series! Sorry this took so long i started failing class and got turned down from nursing school and my grandmother ended up in the hospital. Im not sure how many parts yet but i am currently working on part three at the time of uploading i really hope you guys enjoy! also if part three takes long that my bad

Loading up into the car after everything was said everyone was grieving something but it looked as if Dean had lost the most. I knew Dean shared a “profound bond” with Cas and seeing him turn into a creature of destruction was not great. I mean I guess it would be a creature of creation as he's now god maybe?? I'm not sure any longer all i've ever wanted was to be with my brothers and now if i do the only thing that brings me comfort and retreat into myself i might be taken from the and kept in heaven. I knew that whenever Cas would show up for these “check-ins) he would castigate every move my brothers made and every slight emotion I had. We have to be happy now it's the only way we can be together. If we fight, will Cas hurt my brothers or lock me in heaven? I finally looked up to see Dean staring at me in the rearview mirror, did he ask me something had i missed something. Dean's voice broke through my train of thought

“ Hey kiddo you don't look so great back there, are you ok?”

I wanted to break down at the sound of his voice, he sounded worried and sad.

“Im fine Dean, i mean about as fine as i can be” 

My voice cracking as i speak, my vocal cords still not use to the vibrations

“Are you sure you look a little pale and almost green”

Sam's voice made me realize that he was turned around in the passenger seat also staring at me it also brought upon the realization of nausea 

“I think I'm fine, I do feel a little sick though.” 

The boys looked concerned at how the situation had taken a toll on me 

“Where are we going though, i mean will the wards even still work to keep Cas out or … “ 

The boys seemed to become more worried as i said Cas’s name, i trailed off my voice hurting and there discomfort becoming noticeable 

Dean cleared his throat to speak up 

“We're gonna head to Bobby’s, we need somewhere for you to stay.”

My stomach fell into my feet as his words

“You're gonna leave me at Bobby’s?” 

Dean seemed to notice my sadness as did Sam

“We are gonna stay with you for a while, but i don’t think Cas will want us to bring you on hunts” 

Sam spoke up breaking the tension 

“Ok” 

I knew better than to fight with them when they had made a decision together like this it would be useless anyways, My life usually felt like this, like every situation i was in was insuperable. 

“ How about we stop and get you some food huh? You can finally tell us what you want.” 

I knew Dean was trying to make the situation less intense by making jokes, and it did kind of make me feel a little better.

“Yeah i guess i could eat, how about a burger and maybe a sweet tea”

Dean and Sam looked a little brighter at my words, they knew how much I enjoyed the drink and I guess it was nice for them to hear me say I wanted it. Dean started to make his way to a nearby diner to get some food. Getting out of the car was when I felt it as if all of a sudden cold water was poured over my head. I knew who it was and I turned around to meet him. 

“ Do you really believe that this food will nourish your sister Dean?” 

His words rang through the air. When Cas said there would be check-ins I didn't think they would start so soon and over something so trivial. Dean turned around and grabbed my arm, putting himself between me and Cas. Sam standing behind me sandwiching me between the boys to keep me safe.

“After the night we had, I figured she would want comfort food not healthy food.” 

Dean's anger was clear in his voice the way it always was when someone had insinuated he could not take care of his siblings, his family. 

“She needs nourishment the toll that was taken on her vocal cords from the transition of not speaking to speaking will be quite large if she does not receive proper vitamins and nutrients”

Dean was starting to clench his jaw and ball his fist

“Then I can buy her some damn vitamins and she can take them.” 

Cas’s response to this was less than kind, he did not like the disrespect dean was showing him

“I can still always take her Dean, don't tempt me”

Hearing these words i gripped onto Dean's jacket and Sam moved closer

“ Although she is happy, I will procure these vitamins so you two do not bring her into a situation that could potentially turn bad. She must take them though if she stops I will not hesitate to take her with me, I have cared for her for too long for you to turn her into one of you.”

Deans anger had yet to subside as Cas spoke

“What do you mean by one of us?”

“I mean, Dean, you and your brother do not have the best track record with taking care of yourselves, Sam drank demon blood and you use food, alcohol, and sex to get through life. Do not make her like this by teaching her your bad behavior.”

Cas said his voice almost booming through the empty parking lot. Dean was now silent looking more and more like he was going to punch Cas.

“I will be back soon little one with your vitamins, you will take them wont you?”  

Cas for the first time during this interaction was speaking directly to me.

“Yes I will, I promise.” 

My voice once again was croaking and cracking from the overflow of emotion and from the newness of speaking

“Good”

Was the last thing Cas said before disappearing. The three of us stood in silence not moving for fear he might return. 

Dean turned around and hugged me tightly. 

“Im sorry, i won't ever let him take you” 

I had no words for the moment. I think that's been the hardest part of speaking again, finding the right words for a moment 

“Alright no more chick flick moments” dean said letting go of me 

“I'm starving and we haven't eaten in a hot minute, lets go inside” dean said to end things

[lukin08]

Up In The Air Chapter 5

Kristanna Modern AU

Rated T

WC 2164

Summary: Tired of her nomad lifestyle, traveling nurse Anna Arendelle on a whim picks Pensacola Florida as her new town to try find a sense of home. Meanwhile, Navy Pilot Kristoff Bjorgman has accepted a dream position at the Naval station in the same town. After a chance encounter goes south, the two of them find their lives entwined, with neither of them all that happy about it!

Also Available on AO3

Previous Chapter

“I forgot to mention,” Cliff said as he jotted down a measurement.  “I stopped by Uncle Craig’s the other day.”

Kristoff looked up at his dad.  “How’s he doing?”

“Good.  The business is doing well. Your cousin coming on board has re-energized him and the business.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.  He was asking me if you were still seeing the girl you were with last time you were at the bar.”

Kristoff froze.  He had done everything he could to block out the memory of that night a few months ago.

“Last time I was at the bar I was with Sven,” Kristoff said as uninterested as he could sound.  He kept his head down, focusing on the piece of tile he was laying.

“Craig said you were with someone after Sven left.  Something you want to tell me?”

“Nothing to tell.”  Kristoff chanced a glance at his dad and knew he wouldn’t get off that easy.  Reluctantly, he answered. “The bar was short staffed, so I leant a hand after Sven left.  There was a girl that spilt all her drinks.  I helped her with it and talked with her for a while after.  That’s it.”

Cliff went back to writing in his notebook.  “Funny.  Uncle Craig described it differently.”

“Yeah?  Tell Uncle Craig he has a bad memory.”

Cliff held up his hands when Kristoff shot him a look.  “Whoa, did I strike a nerve? I was just curious.”

“Dad, I left for El Centro right after Sven went home.  I’ve been gone for over two months.  When do you think I’d have the time to see anyone?  Assuming I’d even want to.”

“You’ve been back for two weeks.  Plenty of time.”

“Dad.  There isn’t anyone.  The end.”

“Got it.  No one.”  Cliff went to step out of the bathroom.  “I’m going to cut the rest of the tiles.  Try to get this group laid before I’m back.”

They made quick work of the rest of the bathroom floor.  Thankfully, Cliff didn’t press for more information and Kristoff pushed the memory of that night back out of his head.  Instead, he focused on being with his dad.  They hadn’t had this much time together since before Kristoff graduated from the Naval Academy and he was enjoying this.  He still wasn’t used to his parents being a ten-minute drive away.  The idea of being able to see them whenever he wanted felt strangely foreign to him.  

“I’ll do the grout when you’re away this weekend,” Cliff said as they put away the last of the supplies.   “It’s a good house.  Starting to shape up nicely.  It will be great for a family once you get all the work done.”

“Good time to sell it then.”

“You sure about that?”

“It’s just a house.  I’ll find somewhere else to live.”

“Well, hopefully you can enjoy it for a little bit before you do anything.”  

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.  It still needs a lot of work, and my schedule is busy, so it’s going to take a while.”

“Promise me you’ll at least take some things out of boxes.  It will be good for you to make this place feel more permanent.  Plus, its driving your mother crazy.  If you aren’t careful, one day you’re going to come home from a show and everything will be out.” 

“She wouldn’t do that?”  Kristoff looked at his dad. “Oh… yes, she really would.  Fine.  I promise.  One picture.”

Cliff patted Kristoff on the back.  “That’s the spirit.”

**********

“Lt. Cmdr. Bjorgman?”

Kristoff looked over to the entryway to his office and motioned for the volunteer coordinator for the Blue Angels to come in.

“What can I do for you today, Martinez?”

The petty officer stepped inside.  “I’ll only be a minute.  Just looking to fill in some information.  You’re from the area, right?”

“Yes.”  Kristoff drew out his answer, wondering where this was leading.

The petty officer checked his notes.  “And your father, small business owner.  Mother a teacher?”

Kristoff nodded.

“And you attended Gulf Breeze High School, correct?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to have me speak there.”

There was a small uptick to the corner of Martinez’s mouth.  “No promises.”

The petty officer went through a few more questions, then thanked Kristoff, got up and saluted him.  Right before walking out of the office, he mentioned he’d see Kristoff at the team brief.  The hint of a smile was back, and it was all it took.  Kristoff knew his fate was sealed. 

**********

“Bjorgman,” Boss Kesselring called out.  “I thought I told you to get a haircut.”

Kristoff bit back a groan.  He thought he a skirted by Kesselring noticing during the meeting.  “It’s regulation length, sir!”

Kesselring failed to hold back a small laugh as he shook his head.  “Humor me and go get it trimmed.”

“Right on it,” Kristoff smirked.

Kesselring tilted his head down and looked directly at Kristoff with a sternness that had earned him his captain rank.  “Today.  That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Kristoff responded, setting his face to a neutral expression and sitting up as straight as he could.

“Ok, one last topic and we’ll be done for the day,” Boss Kesselring said as he picked up a stack of envelopes from the desk and held them up for the team to see.  “Your season’s outreach assignments.  It should be straight forward, but I’ll let Petty Officer Martinez discuss in more detail.”

Martinez entered the brief room as Boss Kesselring handed out the envelopes.  Kristoff opened his and sure enough, the first assignment listed was for his old high school.  He wondered what menacing joy Martinez had sticking him with that.  Luckily, it was just for the ROTC and sports program this year, not the entire school.  He skipped past the details of that brief, ignoring Martinez droning on and started scanning his other assignments.

**********

“How long are you going to be gone?” Camilla asked.  She was leaning over the nurse’s station as Anna scanned the screens on the wall that monitored all the patients’ vitals on the floor.

“The meeting is scheduled for an hour.  It’s only supposed to be introducing everyone and going over the goals for the committee.”

“I still don’t know why you want to be part of this.  Seems like a lot of time.”

Anna shrugged.  She didn’t really want to get into how this just felt right.  She wanted to do more around the hospital and community.  It was something she enjoyed but didn’t have the time to get involved when she was a traveling nurse.

“It sounds like a smart idea,” Sue chimed in.

Anna looked over at Sue.  “You really think so?”

“Of course.  The committee reports to the CEO.  There’s good visibility being on the committee when you’re looking to move up.”

“Me?”

“Yes you.  And don’t give me that face.  You’re a natural leader.”

Anna scoffed, making a note on the chart of one of the patients.  “I think you have me confused with my sister.”

“No, I’m talking about you.  I can see it.  You’re already a shift supervisor.  Head of the department makes sense for you at some point.  You’d be great in management someday too.”

“I like being a nurse.”

“Sure.  But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like doing that either.  Plus, selfishly, you’d be a hundred times better than anyone we have in management now.”

Anna got up from her stool at the station.  “I have half a mind to check to see if you’re delirious with a fever but thank you.”  She grabbed her notepad and a pen.  “Well, wish me luck then.  I can’t be late to my apparent first step at a promotion.”

One of the lab specialists Anna knew from being on patient interdisciplinary teams together caught up with her on the way over to the meeting.  They were also on the committee and Anna was glad to have someone she was familiar with in the group.  It also helped take her mind off Sue’s ridiculous comments.  Never mind that Anna did have ideas on how the department could improve and maybe some more thoughts on the nursing program at the hospital. But that could wait for another time because she was focused on the outreach committee and that was it.

Anna followed the lab specialist into the conference room, scanning more for open chairs around the large rectangular table than faces.  It was the clothes that caught her attention first, standing out from the scrubs, white coats and business attire.  When she looked at the face, Anna locked eyes with him, stopping in her tracks as she gasped.    

While only a split second, the shock was all over his face before he quickly set it back, looked down and pretended to write something on his notepad.  Luckily, no one else had noticed when Anna had froze.  She looked around and found a seat as far away from him as possible and scrambled over to it.  

Anna tried to keep herself busy until the meeting started, pretending to check her emails on her phone and introducing herself to the person next to her.  She gave in after a couple minutes and snuck a peek across the table, hoping she didn’t look too flustered.  Anna tried her best to set her face with a mix of disapproval, disgust and anger in case he was looking at her.  He wasn’t.  In fact, he was doing an excellent job at looking occupied, purposely not looking Anna’s way.  But the flush in his cheeks was a dead giveaway that he remembered exactly who she was.  

**********

“Which one are we talking about again?” Camilla asked.  

“The cute one,” Sue answered.

“That doesn’t help.”

“The blond.”

“Ahh, ok.  I couldn’t remember which one it was.  He was cute!”

“I know!”

“Neither one of you are helping.”  Anna was a ball of nervous energy and Sue and Camilla were not making the situation any better.  She practically ran out of the conference room when the meeting was over, taking the first set of stairs she could find to avoid having to be anywhere near Kris.  Or Kristoff as his name apparently really was.  Sue and Camilla were supposed to help her get out of this situation, but they were having entirely too much fun with the information Anna gave them.

“Wait,” Sue said.  “I thought he told you he was local.”

“He did.”

Sue chuckled.  “I guess technically he wasn’t lying.”

Camilla joined in.  “She didn’t get that far in the discussion to find out what he did.  Too busy kissing him to ask!” 

Both Camilla and Sue burst into a fit of giggles.  Anna’s head fell forward, stopping when her forehead met on the top of the station desk.  “Don’t remind me of that.  I’m glad this is amusing to you two.  Any other laughs you’d like at my expense?”

“Did he at least look good in the uniform?”

“Sue!”

“Ok, ok.  I’m sorry.  I wonder why the Navy would send a representative.  Did he say what he does?”

“No, but here.”  Anna lifted her head and found a set of papers.  “Everyone’s bios are there. “

Anna crossed her arms and chewed at her lower lip as Sue perused the paper.  

“Oh wow,” Sue said after a minute.

“That doesn’t sound good. What does it say?”

Sue cleared her throat and started to read aloud.  “Ascension welcomes Naval representative Lieutenant Commander Kristoff Bjorgman from NAS Pensacola.”

“Oooh an officer!” Camilla noted.  “Impressive.”  She nodded her head along with Sue.

Sue started again.  “Lt. Cmdr. Bjorgman has over ten years with the Navy… blah, blah, blah…will fill the position for the duration of his assignment at NAS…. blah, blah, blah…. currently serving his first year as a pilot with the Blue Angels demonstration team…. that,” Sue pointed her finger to the paper. “Is impressive.  And it explains why he’s on the committee.”

 “Explains what?”  Sue might as well have been speaking a foreign language.  Anna didn’t understand anything Sue had read.  

“He’s a Blue Angel.”

“A what?”

Camilla smacked Anna’s shoulder.  “You remember.  The blue planes!”

“I remember how loud they were.”

Sue went on to explain.  “The Blue Angels used to do a lot of PR at the hospital.  They must be looking to start that up again.  That’s good.  They are a hit with the patients.” 

“Great.  He’s a celebrity.”

Sue shook her head.  “Not him.  But the suit kind of is.”

“Oh, the suit!  I forgot about that!” Camilla exclaimed.  “Anna, was he wearing it?”

“He had on a normal plain tan uniform.  Why.”

Camilla had an evil grin on her face.  “Just wait.”

One of the monitors started beeping and all three women shot up to look at it. Anna was first to respond.  “I got this,” she said focusing on the job at hand and trying to remove any more thoughts of Kristoff Bjorgman out of her head.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Actor!Ransom x Pregnant!Reader

Ransom introducing reader to Harlan and the rest of the family finds out so they ruin it by showing up to Harlan’s house.

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Ransom cornered you before you left to visit your mom in Connecticut, trapping you against the counter in the kitchen.

“Why? Are you gone?” You we’re busy making tea, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk.

“I’m going to visit my granddad outside Boston.” Ransom had leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest with his sweater bunching. “I want you to come with me.”

“Is that a request or a demand, diva Drysdale?” You had teased, thinking he was joking only for Ransom to cup your chin and make you look at him.

“Come with me, I want you to meet my grandad.” He spoke in a way that nixed any possible amusement, catching your breath in your throat.

“You’re serious…” you stilled stirring the spoon, your eyes held by his.

“Come with me.” Ransom spoke again, another soft demand.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, I should go.” Your opportunity to turn and run was squandered when Ransom steeled his arm around your shoulders to tuck you into his side.

“You would have to walk, I wouldn’t drive you.” He tightens his arm and holds your bags in his left hand, walking with you toward the door. “You wanna walk all the way back?”

“Yes, good idea. Exercise is good for pregnant-“

“Don’t,” Ransom drew himself away to whisper an idle threat, “make me spank you.”

“Ransom you wouldn’t.” The door opened and a blast of warm air hit you, and a woman approximately your age, came to the door.

“Ransom, you’re early.” There was a soft accent to her voice, her brown eyes bright yet confused. “Why are you early?”

“Ya see the snow outside? Its getting worse.” He stomped his boots on the mat and stepped inside, helping you in.

“Don’t be an ass, its not flattering.” You scolded him, lightly smacking his chest.

“Marta, this is Y/N.” Ransom shrugged his coat off before offering to take yours, the bags still set by the front door. “Marta is grandad’s nurse.”

“Its nice to meet you.” Your voice was quiet as you took in the sight of the house, the old architecture and muted colours were comforting, cozy.

“You too,” Marta’s eyebrows had become furrowed, but regardless she took to the stairs and called up, “Harlan, Ransom’s here!”

“Your family isn’t coming?” You questioned Ransom, shivering when he dusted his hands across your cheeks to remove the scarf around your neck.

“I fucking hope not.” He scowled, tossing the scarf with the rest of your coats. “Why do you think I spend so much time in Hollywood and NYC? They’re terrors.”

“Ransom,” Harlan’s voice drifted from the top of the stairs, his soft blue eyes taking in the sight of you two, “and…”

“Grandad, this is Y/N.” Ransom stood close, impossibly close, and instinctively rest a hand on your baby bump.

“Its nice to meet you.” You spoke softly, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Ransom talks highly about you.”

“He talks about you as well.” Harlan stood before you and Ransom, first looking at him and then you. “How far along are you?”

“About five months.” Your nervousness bled through, and you hiccuped softly.

“Five months,” Harlan hummed, glancing at Ransom again, “Ransom talks a lot about you.”

“Harlan, your meds are ready in the kitchen.” Marta interrupted the moment, stealing Harlan away.

“You talk about me?” Your head whipped around, your eyes growing wider ever so slightly when the faintest blush crossed his cheek.

“Overextending,” Ransom rolled his eyes and departed your side, taking the path that led to the kitchen, “barely mentioned you.”

“That’s okay,” you bit back your smile, “I’m not a very interesting topic.”

You hid your laugh, tried to hide the grin that wanted to crack, all because Ransom had cast you a dirty look and pursed his lips.

“Ya want some cookies or not?” He finally questioned, waving a pack in his hands.

“I love Biscoff.” You went to reach for one of the cookies, only for Ransom to pull them away and hold one out for you to nibble on.

“Big baby-“

“-you hand fed me.” You nudged him, smiling softly.

[flowerscorpses]

Some people just shouldn’t become nurses

Like I dont know bro, if you cant sympathise with someone… this job is prob nothing for you

It was the first day, the day i had sufgery on my throat where they took out half a thyrpid because of a tumor, and like is spent like around four hours in the wake up room, i got told its normally around like 2-3 hours but whatever right

I woke up and i was so fkin drowsy and nauseous, i had to wait til the doc gave to ok that i can get into my station room. On the way i could barely open my eyes and this fkin nurse was like: "you should open your eyes or why are they so small? Are you chinese?" And this is so wrong in so many ways like wtf….

Anyway my parents came, i threw up, and i eventually fell asleep again. I woke the same day to the doc telling me that it was good that they took the thyroid out, bc the know was apparently very hard? And he proceeded to tell me that they damaged a nerve which led the paralysis of my right vocal cord. I tried to ask if it was like a bad tumor but he couldn’t hear me💀💀 one of the assistant doctors understood me tho and the doc said we will know in a week (so i will know monday about that)

Anyway. I fell asleep again only to wake up and threw up. My roommate, a sweet older lady who had cancer, called for the nurses on my behalf (i am so sorry i woke the lady up 💀)) And those nurses were nice and helpful and helped me calm down blah blah i went back to sleep

Next morning (friday) the one nurse came to wake us up. And she was like: "You are still sleeping? You should open your eyes or are they usually thid small"

Like bro wtf is your problem? Its not even 24 hours after the surgery what do you want from me i am in pain

But i couldn’t talk so whatever. I ignored her. I could t eat the breakfast bc of nausea. Lunch also was too difficult to eat. Even the cantine lady showed more sympathy than that fucking nurse.

Anyway the roomie old lady gossiped a little with me and said that the staff is a but weird and that they should know their work and not ask us how we want things (they like asked her what she wanna eat and how much and my roomie just didnt know bc she had like colon cancer). So we like gossiped a bit and she told me its weird af that they wilm release me saturday i already bc of the way i had to threw up and stuff and yeah its kinda weird but i wanna go home anyway so whatever

The bad nurse came into the room at one point again and told us we should stand up and move and that i really should stop having my eyes closed all the time. Even remembering this is frustrating me so much like wtf woman

Anyway at night another nurse came and gave smth against thrombosis, didn’t even hurt, i tried to sleep. But at one point late evening i hot sudden stabbing pains in my back and chest. I reflexively called for a nurse and bro…. It wasnt that one bad nurse it was another bad nurse i will call her nurse B. Nurse B asked whats wrong, and i tried to tell her that i am not getting much air. Admittedly my voice is really weak and almost non existent but her first reaction… she was like: "do you want painkiller?"

To your alls information i had gotten painkiller two hours before this incident. So i tried to convey her that, no, i had some already and that the problem is my chest and air

But the nurse B just was like disappointedly like: "So no painkiller?"

Bro i got so fkin frustrated i was near tears okay like i am in pain, i am scared af and this nurse is talking about painkiller to make her job easier. I said no and she left said she would get a serum for me. Whatever that serum is i have no idea. Anyway she left. I waited like 10 minutes. I texted my bestie instead and she like helped me calm down and agreed that it just might be anxiety and my head causing me chest tightness. So i decided to take a walk in the floorhall to get my brain tired and if i collapse someone would see and have to react. So i walked for like 10 minutes i think. I teyted a bit more with the bestie back in my room and fell asleep. I think it was like two hours later that nurse B returned with a Serum. I didn’t need it anymore but i could say or do anything at that time anymore so urgh luckily it didnt cause me damage. But normally they have to check in like 20 minutes later to get the empty bottle off and stuff… guess what? They didnt.

Its saturday now, I wake up to the assistant docs telling me that i can go home in a few hours after they pulled the pipe out of my throat. I was like okay cool and fell back asleep.

I woke up to the cantine lady bringing breakfast, she was like: awww you are leaving today already, Mausi?

And i dunno that lady was really nice and sweet to me, prob the best staff member in that hospital, she should get a raise just for her empathy.

I somehow fell asleep again i think? I am not sure or no i think i took my hormones and then had one bun and a chamomile tea and fell asleep after that. I woke up and found like painkiller juice for me on my table which i took bc pain. But there were two more pills for me to take. And i asked a nurse what that is for and she was like: those are painkillers

Like excuse me why are you giving me so many painkillers at once????? I didn’t take them for obvious reasons… like… i dunno bro thats overdosing. I might have intrusive thoughts but i still want to live.

Anyway bad nurse came and guess what she said? That i should stand up and move more and not sleep all the time. BITCH. I. AM. RECOVERING. FROM SURGERY. I. AM. FATIGUED. I HAVE HORMONAL IMBALANCE. I HAVE PAIN. I AM AWARE THAT MOVING IS GOOD MAYBE YOU SHOULD MOVE MORE AND DO UR WORK PROPERLY.

Omg wait did i say she gave me an thrombosis i jection the nigjt to saturday? I might have mixed up the day. Like the first one i got from another nurse which i didnt even notice, that was like the night to friday. And the second one i got the night to saturday and it was bad nurse giving me the injection.

I am sorry my mind is scattered okay like kdkdnndny It hurt so bad when she injected it. Normally u like pinch the tummy fat so it doesnt hurt. But bad nurse just stabbed the needle in. It burned for an hour and hurt. And today i noticed that it had bled.

Anyway back to the other part uhhhhh ah right. Bad nurse was there and told me to move yada yada yada. She took the pipe out of my throat and thank the fucking stars nothing happened while she did that. I only am left with a little hole that should be healing.

Two hours later i got the docs letter and everything and was able to leave that fkin place.

And i am still dizzy, tired and in pain.

But at least i got rid of this now

Puuuuh

Whoever read this.. i am sorry for wasting your time💀

Have a nice day

[star-centric]

Helloo, I hope requests go well for you! Congratulations on opening up, you're going to do great!

Would it be okay to see a platonic story about reader being new to UA academy and Kendo Itsuka? Reader has a Pinocchio quirk, meaning her nose grows longer on command, but it's very sturdy and won't break. She's self conscious about, but Itsuka Kendo helps reader feel more empowered by her quirk.

Kendo Itsuka Helping Self Conscious!Reader

Pairing: Kendo Itsuka x Gender!Neutral Reader (Platonic)

A/N: I just realized that I never written for her out of my 2-3 (I think?) years of writing and that is a crime 😔 also I changed this to a gender neutral reader so hope that’s okay! (Also credit to @/cafekitsune for the dividers! Here’s a link to their navi)

CW: a bit of negative thoughts from the reader but ends in fluff, platonic relationship (ftw!!), kendo and reader are gonna be bffs bc they both deserve the world ✨, gender neutral reader

When Kendo first introduced herself to you, she noticed how shy you were. You didn’t make eye contact and you fidgeted with your fingers.

She didn’t take offense to it- she remembers how jittery she was on her first day, it’s normal that you would be feeling the same way on your first day too. But she did notice how tense you were when the others began to ask you what your quirk was. The look in your eyes and the shaky tone only showed that you were getting anxious, and she was already guiding people back to their desks.

The thankful look you shot her made her smile, “It’s no worries! I know how they can get, trust me.”

The small smile and laugh you gave made her hopeful that you would come out of your shell in due time- and you were!

You were starting to warm up to the class after some time, finally getting used to their own antics (the horrified look you gave when you saw her hit Monoma with her quirk quickly became a favorite memory with the other students). It was nice to see- and the growing bond between you was an added bonus.

Everything was going fine- until it was time to train.

Whenever it was time to suit up into the hero costumes, you would go to Vlad King feigning that you were sick. Kendo would offer to walk you to the nurses office, but you would hurry off without her, telling her not to stop her training because of you.

She wasn’t calling you a liar, but she knew something wasn’t right. You never looked sick- apprehensive was the better word- but you were definitely worried about something else.

When you couldn’t get out of training anymore, you chose to train in a corner, hiding away from everyone else. Kendo connected the dots- it was definitely something with your quirk. But she never pushed for you to tell her anything- the only hint that she got was how you would cover parts of your face. It made her curious- but not enough to put you in an uncomfortable position.

Regardless of how careful she tried to be, your secret was then revealed.

Tetsutetsu wasn’t a careful fighter, getting lost in the moment whenever you spars with anyone. He’s careful enough not to hurt anyone, but not careful enough in how much damage he causes to his surroundings.

A punch to the concrete wall left it crumbling down and in shambles.

It also revealed what you were so afraid of showing.

Your quirk.

As Vlad King was growling at Tetsutetsu to not be so careless, Kendo’s eyes followed and were soon locked on your nose. Your extended nose, currently piercing another wall before retracting back.

You look mortifed, body stiff and frozen as more students became aware of you.

Kendo reached out her hands, mouth open to try and calm you-

“Woah, so that’s your quirk?”

“Ha, it’s like you’re Pinocchio!”

Murmurs starting to fill the air, and all eyes were now landing on you. Kendo could see you starting to tremble from where she was standing and was about to scold the others when she heard it.

A sniffle.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your nose shrunk back to its size as you covered it mortified.

Kendo knew he wasn’t trying to be malicious, but his words didn’t help at all. She called out to you as you ran off.

She didn’t hesitate to chase after you.

You are so stupid.

You knew you should have never applied for U.A., let alone the hero course- but you let your parents and the little friends that you have to convince you. What were you thinking? That you could really be a hero with a quirk like yours?

Your quirk wasn’t amazing- it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t that strong- if anything, it cost you more problems than ever.

Who would look at someone like you as a hero?

When you first discovered your power as a child, you were excited. You showed your parents just how far your nose could grow and how strong it was- you were just an innocent child, rambling at how you could be an amazing hero even if it wasn’t like All Mights.

But when you showed other kids, they didn’t look at you ecstatic- it was the complete opposite.

You were called weird, weak, ugly- you were laughed at, and the excitement you did feel only turned to tears as every insult just echoed back in your mind.

You could still hear it now, playing back in your head as you tried to stifle your cries on the roof. You decided that after today, you should withdraw from U.A. You would apologize to Mr. King and the principal for wasting everyone’s time and taking someone’s position that could be a true hero, and then go back home a disappointment. You could find a simple job somewhere, never having to show your quirk to anyone ever again-

“There you are!”

You choked and turned back to see Kendo panting- did she chase after you?

She sat down next to you. She let out a breath she was holding, “I’m glad you’re still here- I didn’t know where you went!”

Kendo smiled, but you didn’t have the nerve to return it.

The air between you was silent, both of you gazing up at the sky. You tried your best to wipe your tears, already beyond embarrassed by today-

“I…know how it feels.”

Kendo pulled out a handkerchief and placed it in your trembling hand. Her eyes were soft with an understanding smile, “I used to think the same way.”

“Really?” Kendo of all people used to feel the way you felt? She’s so confident and powerful that you almost found it hard to believe.

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes lowering as her tone turned somber. “Some people still get weirded out about my quirk believe it or not. Some people think I’m cute until they see my giant hands- but it doesn’t bother me anymore. If anything, the faces they make can be kinda funny.” She chuckled.

“How- how did you get over it?” You asked, dried tears staining your cheeks but eyes remaining hopeful.

“Because I knew that I can save people- and I know that you can too!”

Kendo grabbed both of your hands, gently squeezing them but eyes full of determination. She called your name, “Listen, it doesn’t matter what your quirk does- all that matters is how you use it. There’s nothing wrong with your ability- just like there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your quirk or with how you look. You got into U.A. for a reason- you’re so strong, kind- you have all the qualities of a hero already.” Kendo flashed a bright smile at you, and you felt tears start to well in your eyes again.

“You’re not alone- we’re all here to support each other and that includes you now, okay?”

Kendo didn’t have time to react when you lunged toward her, wrapping your arms tight around her, sobbing into her shoulder. She was worried for a moment, before she heard your muffled, choked out ‘thank yous’.

She gently smiled and returned the hug.

When you both walked back to the dorms, you were already expecting a lot of invading questions- but you weren’t expecting them to be so…supportive?

“I’m so sorry about earlier! That totally wasn’t okay and I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“Oh it’s okay! You shouldn’t blame yourself- if anything I should be the one apologizing. None of that was on you.” You reassured Tetsutetsu.

“The fact that your nose can punch through concrete and that you didn’t even flinch is amazing! I wonder if it’s a hardening quirk like yours Tetsutetsu?” Another student questioned.

“Let’s do our best together-”

“-in crushing those lowlifes in Class 1-A!”

“Okay guys, give them some space- it’s been a long day and it’s getting late.” Kendo shooed the mini crowd away, but they made sure to say goodnight to both of you- it was a warming feeling.

“Um, Kendo?”

“Hm?” You waited until the common room was empty before clearing your throat.

“Thank you again for…everything. You really don’t know how much that meant to me.” You sincerely spoke. It made Kendo smile.

“Of course- what else are friends for?”

For the first time ever since she met you, your smile reached your eyes- and Kendo hoped that it wasn’t the last time seeing it.

[sweetcloverheart]

Clover Rants Miraculously: Lila’s chronic bias consistency

I feel like the issue when it comes to Lila and her lies isn’t so much characters very easily believing her (I mean - it’s annoying, yes, but they’re running on kid show “lesson of the week” logic in those situations, so they get somewhat of a pass) - it’s the consistency of how often her lies are taken at face value, especially in situations where there should be some doubt at least? I get Marinette’s supposed to be the “Dogged levelheaded person who isn’t swept up in Lila’s deception and must persevere despite no one believing her” in the scenario, but she genuinely can’t really be the only one?

Alya thinking Marinette is being overly hostile towards Lila because of Adrien during “Chameleon”? Absolutely fair - Marinette has been openly jealous towards girls who show interest in Adrien before, and while she doesn’t take it to Chloe-levels of aggression, she’s shown she will often jump to hasty conclusions or go farther than she should when the boy’s involved. Plus Lila hasn’t openly done anything aggressive or harmful, so it stands to reason she’d give her the benefit of a doubt. Alya still thinking this even after “Gang Of Secrets” has her learn Marinette is Ladybug - Girl WTF? You’ve seen and experienced what happens when Hawkmoth thinks someone is connected to Ladybug and know Marinette has issues with lying/dishonesty - and yet somehow you didn’t connect the dots of “Marinette dislikes Lila and calls her a liar” and “Lila claims to be Ladybug’s best friend”? How does it not occur to her that Marinette’s dislike of her superhero-self’s “bestie” does not directly involve Adrien (especially now that her crush on Adrien has been transferred to Chat in season 5)? or at the very least question Marinette on why she’s so hostile towards someone she’s supposedly friends with in her secret identity’s life! You’d think if she was that concern/exasperated about the other girl’s behavior and wants her to see how “nice” Lila actually is, she’d sit her down and try to get to the root of what the issue is.

The class believing Lila on her fake environmental project with her “friend” Prince Ali in “Heroes Day” without question? Understandable - Wilder stuff has happened in their lives on the daily. Their currently out-of-country (to their belief) classmate teaming up with royalty to help fight pollution would not be the most outrageous thing to happen to them. Rose, who is in canon Ali’s friend and frequently exchanges letters with him, believing this without question - How? Did she assume Ali and Lila just hit it off during one of their off days and that he simply forgot to mention it in his last message to her? Or question him not telling her about the project either? Granted, I can assume he wouldn’t write down everything he did throughout the day/plans for the month, but you’d think Rose would have raised her hand after Marinette’s outburst and go “Actually, she’s right. Also, Ali never mentioned an environmental project to me. Are you sure you’re talking about him Lila?”.

A few people in class believing Lila’s lies about Marinette bullying her/tricks to make her look bad and pushing her down the stairs in “Ladybug”? A bit frustrating, but okay - they didn’t see what happen, and again, Lila doesn’t act openly hostile or cruel while Marinette has be consistent in her clear dislike of the former. A reasonable mistake to make if you aren’t the audience/didn’t have context for what occurred. Everyone, from Bustier to the dustmotes in the air, not only believing Lila, but also immediately jumping to have Marinette expelled without a proper investigation of events or even calling the supposed victim’s mother and getting her to the nurse considering she was apparently thrown down a set of large steps (and yet is somehow coherent and well enough to still walk around) - ...Seriously? They all just...believe Marinette’s tried to assault someone in broad daylight? Not a single person in the school went “Hey wait a minute - that doesn’t sound like something Marinette would do! Lila’s obviously lying.”. No one thought it was strange that Marinette, who’s worse response to her own bullying has been to call her bully useless, apparent hates Lila (and her apparent threat to her future with Adrien) so much that she threw her down an entire flight of stairs? No one thought to defend Marinette’s integrity when she was accused of cheating on a test? Or of stealing Lila’s things (especially considering what happened in “Rogercop” when Chloe went around accusing people of stealing her bracelet). No one is asking “Did Marinette actually do this?” And even then, Lila immediately invalidates herself and her case by making up that “Liar’s disease” to get her back into school - that should have had the teachers immediately looking into Lila’s other stories and her “prolonged absences” and the rest of the class being hesitant to trust her anymore since she’s now “admitted” that nothing that comes out of her mouth is actually the truth. Lila should have either lost some friends or some of her status with this stunt and have her claims come under scrutiny since she basically all but admitted to always be lying - and yet even after, when Marinette points out Lila isn’t telling the truth about something, everyone just shakes their heads and laughs “Oh Marinette, you jealous goober. If only you could cast away you crush on Adrien, you’d realize how honest and lovable Lila is like the rest of us!”

Like, it’s one thing to have the cast temporarily hold the idiot ball because it’s unfortunately necessary to help make an episode plot work out - it’s another when you constantly force them to act OOC just so you can make Lila out to be this master manipulator whom Marinette’s completely helpless against (and then have her be told she can’t/shouldn’t expose her while the rest of the cast wonders why the girl who was just expelled under false charges is being openly hostile to the girl who admitted to making up the whole thing that got her expelled in the first place).

[izzy-b-hands]

A one shot that was meant to be flash fiction (I tried, not very well, lmao) for Ferguson Friday! The end is also a mini sneak peek into the beginning of the Denise/Ferguson fic I've been working on the last few weeks (and hope to have done sooner rather than later!)

A snapshot of Ferguson prior to the meetup in the aforementioned longer fic, giving a look into what he's like outside of work/what worries him/how he lives. Also my chance to give him the backstory the original show wasn't able to lol, including a focus on his relationship with his aging mum and deceased father.

TW for mentions of coping via less than ideal habits with cigarettes and alcohol

There’s a particular creak of the floorboard at the center of his entryway.

He always manages to press directly on it; the toe of his slightly scuffed black dress shoes pressing down into the dip of the board. A sign of rot? Just a quirk of the flooring, older than him by more than a stretch?

He settles his woolen coat, then his suit coat, onto the coat rack in the corner of the entryway. A gif from his mum, when he’d first moved in. It’s been ages since she’s been out to visit, but with her emphysema, she doesn’t get out much at all anymore. Per the doctors, it’s safer for her, and he can always come to visit her.

But the work takes over his schedule, and she tells him to put himself first. She won’t be around forever, but she’s ‘not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.’ He doesn’t know that she’ll get as much choice in that as she wishes, and he misses the sight of her coat on the rack. Vintage fur in the winter, a tan lighter wool one for the spring and summer. Fall, she doesn’t leave the house, when the memory of his father’s death presses upon her.

His father wasn’t particularly impactful. Not much good, but did minimal harm, overall. Left the three of them with an addiction to cigarettes from the stress of getting on together, and a predilection for alcohol at the worst of times.

“What would he say about all of this?” Trevor asks aloud as he pours himself a dram of whiskey. “He didn’t teach you to act like that.”

He didn’t refute it either. That’s not an excuse, barely an explanation, and he desperately wants to call Denise.

It wouldn’t be appropriate, and why on earth would she want to hear from him now anyway? After the years of shouting at her, admittedly for things that were going to get her in trouble, might have even ruined her career-

He pulls off his tie and tosses it over the arm of the armchair before he drops into it with an exhausted sigh. His work now isn’t tiring because of the effort, but because of how fucking boring it gets. How repetitive. Everyone wants the accolades for doing something good or useful, but no one wants to actually do it, and it feels useless advising people that make more money than him about it.

The drink is good, and after he has a new cigarette lit (from the good pack, the better brand that he hides down the side pocket of the chair, only for his worst days), he can almost pretend he’s relaxing.

The phone is on the small end table near his chair. He’s kept it old school, with a corded phone that stretches nearly all over his flat so he can keep moving as he talks to people.

Not that anyone other than his mum and boss ever call, but. The option is nice to have.

He pulls the table closer now, so he can dial. But his fingers don’t move as they linger in the air over the buttons of the dial pad.

“She’ll tell me to fuck off, and she’d be right to do so,” Trevor mutters.

But he’s heard rumours. Just little things, but with massive implications for Denise if true.

And in his heart, he knows they likely are. She wanted the man caught, and she didn’t care how. He can’t blame her, but there’s next to nothing he can do to protect her.

He tosses back the rest of his drink, and dials his mum’s number instead.

“Hello?”

A voice, not unfamiliar, but not overly familiar either. The new nurse he’s hired to keep an eye on her in the afternoons and evenings. He’d forgotten she’d be in already. “Trevor?”

“Yeah, hi,” he stammers. “Is Mum in?”

“She is, but she’s gone down early tonight. She did ask that I wake her if you would call, do you want me-”

“No, don’t wake her,” he rushes through the words, regretting having called at all. She gets so tired, of course she’s not awake this late into the evening. “Thank you for answering, and for keeping watch on her. Is she doing alright? Do you need anything? I can pop down and bring anything you-”

“The pantry is still full of the snacks and things you bought last time you visited,” she cuts him off gently. “I’ll let you know when we start running out. She did okay today. We managed a walk down the lane which she really liked. Wished for a camera, so she could show you the birds we saw.”

He makes a mental note to find her a camera, something not antique, but that she won’t struggle to use either. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear, and I appreciate everything you’re doing for her. I know she can be-”

“She’s no worse than anyone else on my schedule,” the nurse laughs, and he’s in a panic trying to recall her name. Close to Denise’s, so he’d kept getting them confused-

“Trevor, maybe you should get to bed as well, hm?” Dena. That’s it. Dena, specified on her resume that it’s spelled with an ‘e’, not an ‘i’. “I’ll let her know you called in the morning, and she might reach out then after I go. You two can chat over breakfast.”

He’ll be out for the day, but she has his office number too. One of the few who does, along with Denise. “Sounds good. Thank you, Dena.”

She hangs up with a gentle chuckle, and there’s a flutter in his stomach again.

He could try. He could call her and apologise for all of it. Let her know that it’s not an excuse, barely an explanation, but he’ll do what he can to make up for it. Even if he can’t do much for her current troubles, if there’s anything at all-

His phone rings, and he nearly drops the receiver as he picks it up. “Hello?”

“Can you come over?”

Denise. Sounding like she’s on the edge of tears.

“Sorry?”

“Can you just come over?”

He panics, nearly dropping his cigarette as he sets it into the ashtray on the table. He’s got a bit of an envelope and a pen that works if it’s held at a very exact angle, and even if he can’t get the address of wherever Denise is down perfectly, he’ll wander until he finds her.

He interrupts her own panicking flurry of words. “Where are you?”

[serialfirstdater]

London #6: The Essex Military Man

I came across a profile of a mustached man on my Hinge who liked me. I debated on him because he wasn't my type but he flexed in one photo and I thought he could toss me around. So I gave him a swipe.

We started chatting and I found out that he was in the military. My interest in him immediately decreased. I mean, he did look like he was in the military. Except the military was one of the occupations I wasn't interested in for a potential partner. Not because they are away all the time, that never concerned me. Instead, salary in the military has never been the greatest. Anyone who knows me well knows how much I scrutinize a man's earnings when I look at a long-term relationship.

Despite my hesitation, I couldn't bear to unmatch him because he was putting in effort to talk to me. He came off a bit eager via text. When I was sick with food poisoning, as you might remember in my previous entry, he sent me couple stickers on WhatsApp and told me he wished he was there to take care of me because I seemed like a sweet girl.

I thought that was a lot, especially from someone I haven't met yet. We had only been talking for a few days at this point. I was a little wary, worried he might be overinvested and perhaps would be weird in real life. (Remember the London Nurse?)

We kept talking until he finally asked me out for our first date. When we met, he came with a full beard and dressed casually with a white band tee. It wasn't how I like my men to dress on the first date but, this was supposed to be chill. He actually came off a lot more normal than I expected.

He took me to Greenwich, a cute neighbourhood town with some English charm. We first walked around Greenwich Market and he asked what I wanted to eat. As cute as it was and I love a good food market, eating and getting to know each other would be difficult standing in a crowded place. I suggested we just stick to a restaurant to make our lives easier.

We headed to Bill's, a nice all-day chain perfect for affordable brunch and family dining. I ordered a delicious and massive brunch dish, excited to get some food in my belly.

As he spoke in his thick Essex accent excitedly about his time in the military, I started to feel a little sleepy during our conversation. You see, this man gave off the biggest teddy bear/Santa Claus/dad vibes. Rather than being physically attracted to him, all I wanted to do was lie on top of him, let him stroke my hair, and talk so I could fall asleep. Like a child lying in her father's arms. I never had a man that evoked such a non-sexual specific want ever until this very moment.

If this wasn't a flag, I don't know what was (in the most innocent way possible of course). I envisioned him being a great, fun father to a couple of kids. I could vividly imagine him making burgers at a backyard barbeque with his other married friends, and children running around during the summer. However, I didn't see him as the father of my children.

We left the restaurant and explored Greenwich. I took in the sites and had him snap some tourist photos of me. We decided to take the underground path from Greenwich to the other side of the river. We debated where to go and he told me he wanted to show me a rooftop garden in Canary Wharf, an area that resembles Toronto's Harbourfront because of their sterile condos on the water.

At the rooftop garden, he told me he had a fantastic date with a girl that he also took up there. Only to find out after a few hours on the date, that she confessed she had a boyfriend. I would never understand people who do that. I never had to worry about a man ever randomly telling me he had a girlfriend on the date (though one Italian guy I'm sure cheated on his girlfriend with me years ago).

The date continued with us sitting outside in front of a jumbo screen in an open grassed area. The jumbo screen was airing the Paris Olympics and the tennis match was on. The Essex Military Man and I continued to converse and had a good conversation, including topics such as dating. I told him about my experiences and how I viewed dating candidly. Perhaps it was one of the signs that I was not as interested in him because I was very truthful about my dating intentions. When I like the guy (and I do not know where he stands with his dating intentions), I hold back that information. Because I feel if I am too honest, the romantic vibes would be off.

The date lasted for 9.5 hours. Normally, this was a great sign, right? However, I just got along with the Essex Military Man very well. I debated if I had any romantic interest in him the entire day. We agreed to hang out another time and he continued to text me.

I dreaded his messages in the upcoming days, filled with what he did that day and little tidbits about himself. I kept telling my friends I would give him a second date but would reject him later.

My friends told me that I might as well end things now since I had no excitement towards him. Despite him being super sweet, and I felt very secure around him, he did not bring any romantic or sexual attraction out of me. And our date was just long enough for me to know.

About a week after our date and our second date not yet finalized, I finally pulled the plug. I told him I enjoyed our time together but did not feel the romantic spark. I told him he was sweet and wished him all the best.

I expected him to respond, thanking me for letting him know and wishing me the best of luck as well. Instead, my text was met with silence and I never heard from him again.

I felt a little bad but I was glad to have done it before he wasted his time and money on a second date that was going nowhere.

[touboutenshi]

thinking abt childhood. i still clearly remember the homes of relatives that died (and the ones who just moved away).

gigi's house was pretty big and had a nice room full of antiques that i liked to be in. there was almost always a little dear shaped bowl with chocolates. there was a miniature porcelain tea set and some porcelain rabbits that i liked. they were given to me when she died. the tea set is in another room because i didn't want the pieces to get lost on my mess of a shelf, but the rabbits are used to keep my books from falling over now. i'll admit, when i was a kid i stole a small piece of fancy looking soap from a bowl of it she had in the bathroom. sorry about that. i thought it looked pretty. she had a pool in the backyard that i liked to play in when i brought a swimsuit. i didn't know how to swim (still dont), but it was fun just being in there. she almost always had the pool vaccuum cleaner in there though, and those things freak me out for some reason. one time she showed me a pair of raggedy ann and andy dolls she had in her bedroom. i wonder who ended up getting those. me and my parents visited her every now and then, really just to hang out, but we had family events too. mainly christmas, some thanksgivings. i remember her kitchen was pretty (but small) and had a wooden trash can that was i think connected to the floor. i have a specific memory of watching annoying orange on her tv one christmas because its what cartoon network was airing at the time. it was the most interesting thing that was airing on any channel to me. i didnt watch the tv long enough for anything else to start i think.

my great grandma's house was a bit small. there was a hallway that led to different rooms, like a sewing room, bathroom, ect. the room at the very end of the hallway was a guest bedroom, and was where the kids would hang out when family was over. i'd also hang out in there alone when i visited with my parents, she had some books and toys in there. i remember i borrowed an uglydolls book once. i dont think i ever gave it back, but i don't have it anymore, so it mightve ended up at a thrift store somewhere. she had a pet cockatiel. i forgot his name. he was old and nice. she had a big backyard with a lot of bushes. she'd host easter parties a lot because of it (since there were a lot of places to hide the eggs). eventually she moved out because she couldn't take care of herself as well, first to my aunt's, then to a nursing home. then she died. if i remember correctly, my family held her funeral in another state, even though she died here, so me and my parents couldn't go. i think my dad was mad about that.

but the house i remember the most was my nana's house. she's still alive, just moved to another state with her friend. i used to visit and spend the night with her a lot. she lived in a messy little mobile home. she had a wii and a few games that she kept for when i visited. she gave them to me before she moved. i remember playing my ds there a lot too. i actually used to live there with my mom for a while, before we got our own place. that was before i met my step dad and step brother, i think. i haven't seen them in years. i wonder how they're doing now. even after we had our own place, nana would pick me up from school. preschool, kindergarden and early grade school, i think. she also lived with papa for a while. i don't remember him well. he died too early for me to remember much. i think i visited him in the hospital. i think it was cancer. i remember he was a heavy smoker, so that's what i think it was at least. nana's house was small. she had a kitchen + dining room, living room, 2 bathrooms, and 2 bedrooms. when i stayed the night with her we'd share the bed in her bigger bedroom. it was a big bed and i was a little kid so it wasn't cramped. she also had a tv in there on top of a dresser if i remember correctly. there was also a tv in the living room. the other bedroom was always a mess from what i can remember. i dont think it was ever properly cleaned when she moved. as the years passed, the living room also became messier because she used it less. i have a specific memory of accidently dropping a glass bowl on the floor while sitting in a chair in the living room. i was in the house alone, i think nana was a way and only papa was out on the potch, and i knew not to get up because id step on the shards, so i had to yell until he finally heard me and came in to sweep the floor. she also made hard boiled eggs for me a lot. she had a jack russel terrior named lovey. and a chihuahua named niña. lovey lived up to her name. she was an old lady. niña was much younger, i remember i first met her when she was a puppy. nana hid her in her fluffy bathrobe so she could surprise me. now she's an old lady. i haven't talked to nana in years now, so i wonder if the girl's still alive... i have a photo i took of her somewhere. eventually, lovey died, and nana moved in with a friend. i stayed the night with them at her house a few times. she was nice. she had a big dog named bo, short for hobo because he was found on the street. idk his breed. he died eventually. he was a friendly old man. i dont remember the friends house much. she had a guest bedroom with 2 beds, and i remember she let me use her shower a few times. it was one with a glass door. we'd go out to barnes and noble together and eat breakfast at their little cafe area, then walk around and just look at stuff. it was nice. i'd bring my tablet so i could draw. she had a fancy car. last time we did it was in 2019 i think, then they moved to another state. i dont remember which one. me and my nana texted for a bit but then we eventually stopped.

[hana-akari]

As if Sakura didn’t already feel unattractive enough. Sasori would constantly low blow her about her appearance all the time. Her weight, breast, the stretch marks were a particular sore spot that really got her snipping back at him. He didn’t mind all those things when she was pregnant and he was fucking her! Every chance Sakura got, she was in the backyard working out to get rid of the baby fat. Sarada and her had a small training area back there. Nothing they could use their strength in but for light training it worked. Sakura took time to slip away with Sarada with the main training grounds to really get a workout in. That and she wasn’t going to neglect Sarada’s training. Sakura had been kind enough to offer for Sasori and the twins to come and watch a couple of times. Just so they all could get fresh air. A couple times he came. Once Sarada asked if he wanted to train with her and Sakura awkwardly shot that down. Not for Sarada’s safety but Sasori’s. Sarada could pack a good punch and if she managed to get in a blow, she could probably fuck up Sasori pretty bad. He was an asshole to her, but she’d still prefer him in one piece.

Her stretch marks were another story. Sakura had been slowly healing them but cosmetic medical arts weren’t her specialty. The marks were dark, and were on her stomach, hips, and breasts. Stretch marks weren’t an open wound she could simply heal. She had to take the time to slowly reverse the damage and repair the skin. Sakura just wanted them gone so Sasori would shut up about them. Though she didn’t let on that his comments actually had any effect on her. Under normal circumstances, comments like that wouldn’t bother her. But the fact that it was coming from the father of her twins made it sting a bit.

Regardless, she tried really hard to keep her mouth shut over his comments. Sasori just had the horrible ability to know just what button to jab to have her baring her fangs back at him.

At the very, tiny, least, he didn’t treat Sarada like shit despite her not being his kid. For the most part he humored her, and even let her hang out with him and watch tv. And let her watch her shows and talk about her interests. Sarada was really into space lately. All because she heard the story from Naruto how they fought some weird, alien god from the moon before she was born. Now Sarada really believed in aliens. And Sakura hoped there wasn’t anymore and she wouldn’t have to fight them. Sakura had enough of that bullshit for one lifetime

Sakura took mild pleasure in taking pictures of Sasori. Not because she wanted to see more of his stupid face but because she knew it pissed him off. But in her defense, he was the twins' father, and he deserved to be in the family scrapbook. It would be something nice for the twins to look back on. Sakura really wished she would be able to associate those books with happy memories. She adored the twins but… Flipping through it is only going to remind her of how their father despised her and insulted everything about her and all the fighting between them.

It was really such a shame…

Even Sasuke didn’t hate her. He just didn’t want to be around her.

“Look at how cute they are.~ They love their papa so much.~” Sakura gushed in a soft whisper, leaning against the couch to look over at them. A fond smile on her face as she watched the babies sleep,

“Yeah… I’m off. I’ll take them so you can sleep. They’ll probably want to nurse when they wake up, so I’ll take over from there.” Sakura tried to keep them on a schedule. It was better for babies than being all over the place.

“You know you can always ask me nicely and I’ll take time off so you can get some extra rest. The hospital isn’t going to burn down without me for a couple days.”

Sakura was firm on the ‘nicely’ part. She hated when people just rudely demanded things from her. It didn’t fly at work and it wasn’t going to fly at home either.

"...You’ll leave just like he did. All papas do.”

If there was one thing that Sasori did not take kindly to, it was being told he couldn't do something.

He had made the aforementioned decision to stay in his new children's lives, but it was a matter of pride, too. He was going to show both Sakura and her little daughter that he wasn't going to leave and they would have to make him leave. And that obligation was solidified by his stubbornness--only to instantly regret it.

Turns out, babies sucked, both literally and figuratively. If they weren't shitting themselves, they were crying and if they weren't crying, they were shitting--sometimes both! While he had had a little experience with infants due to his godson, he had been a saint of a baby in comparison to the twins. It was nothing but crying, day and night. Despite being a modified human, he was still a human being and as a human being, he still needed rest--rest he was not getting enough of.

So yes, Sasori did get frustrated with them--a lot. But never did he take it out of them, if just barely. No, he took it out on Sakura; insulting anything and everything about her to make himself feel better--from her weight, the size of her breasts and once even her stretchmarks. Didn't help she'd bite back at him which once or twice ended up in a screaming match betwixt them.

Afterwards, Sasori would leave the house, either to take a long, long walk to clear his head or go spend the night on his godson's couch. Then, the puppeteer would walk off and they'd do it all over again. So, so many times did Sasori just want to say "fuck it" and leave but he couldn't. He couldn't do that to his children. Especially not his precious, little Saori who so glued to him, moreso than to her mother.

So, he stayed. He wasn't happy about it, but he stayed. And that's where Sasori was today, months later.

Despite Sakura working from home these days, Sasori took on a majority of the childcare while she was busy. So, since it was mid-afternoon, he had tried to put the twins down to nap--and a nap for him too. However, Saori had decided she hated napping in her crib and put up a fuss when he tried to put her down. So, Sasori scooped her back up, deciding to let her nap with him. However, Sorrell didn't like sleeping without his sister and got upset too until Sasori picked him up too.

So, with a baby in each arm, Sasori laid out on the couch and switched on the television, not so much watching as he rocked the twins. Thankfully, they both fell asleep quickly as did their father. It has been three days with minimal sleep on Sasori's end so a few hours of rest was a blessing. That is, until a flash of light interrupted his overdue nap.

Groaning, Sasori opened his eyes to see Sakura standing over them with her phone in hand, obviously having taken their picture. She knew how much he loathed having his photo taken but hadn't the energy to snap at her about it. That, and not in front of the babies.

"No. No. Don't want to wake them up..." He said in a whisper, rubbing his fingers against his human eye which was outlined by dark circles. Saori got cranky when she didn't have her nap and he--neither did he imagine Sakura--wanted to deal with that. Just like her mother, she was. "You can be on night duty. It's the weekend you don't have to work tomorrow, aye?"