#and his saving grace that got him out of scrapes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pascalpvnk · 6 months

Text

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

to keep up to date on upcoming parts, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications. thank you for reading!! <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: you & i

220 notes · View notes

topsyturvy-turtely · 2 months

Text

scarred from within

a/n: turtely is hurting so obviously one of my bois needs to hurt too.

a/n2.0: i am sorry.

✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗

laying in bed. tears streaming down his cheekbones, into his ears. he hated that feeling of salt drops coming out of him and finding their way back into his body. as if they wanted to crawl back inside. as if his feelings wanted to bury themselves somewhere deep inside, where they couldn't be accessed anymore.

he hated that feeling, but he let it happen. he couldn't bring himself to care enough about his stupid tears in his poor ears to wipe them away.

feeling another tear breaking its way outside, just to hide in his hair again, sherlock thought of him. of all the sweet niceties. of appreciating words, of soft touches. the words never saying enough, the touches never lasting long enough.

his chest hurt and he thought it was ridiculous. heartache? because of an emotion? what a not-at-all-sociopathic thing to have.

and yet. here he was. aching with heartbreak.

hating mary for marrying the love of his life. hating the love of his life for having a different love of his life. love of your life - what does that even mean? sherlock sighed. he knew exactly what it meant to him: that he wanted to do everything with john. he wanted to solve crimes, and run through half of london, knowing he was right behind him. he wanted to talk with john - he always managed to bring the too many, too big, too fast thoughts into some kind of order with his simplicity. but it meant so much more to him than that. it meant that the thought of john was the only thing that kept him alive during his time in serbia. one whiplash - his imaginary john running towards him. second whiplash - john yelling his name. a third whiplash - a hand on his cheek. a fourth - imaginary john telling him to hold on. a fifth - telling him to be strong. a sixth - so he can come home to him. a seventh whiplash - so he can fix him. john would fix him, when he got home. he'd mend his wounded skin, his broken ego, his weakened mind.

that is what he believed in.

he never thought john would hit him too. he never realised his life scrambled the second he stepped over that rooftop. into the nothingness. and fell. he never realised that the mat underneath would not actually save him.

his heart had cracked back then. when he was laying on the concrete - blood all over his face, stinging his eyes, sticking in his hair - but it was john's voice, so weak, so hurt that cracked that thing in his chest. back then he thought "it is for the best. i am doing this for you. i'll come back for you and we'll be okay."

but it wasn't for the best. he had come back for john. and they were not okay.

and for the first time in his life sherlock realised what people meant when they said their heart was broken. there was no way it could ever heal from this.

sherlock felt this with such devastating certainty, it pricked new tears from his eyes. and it felt like those tears were sandpaper, scraping traces of sorrow into his face.

he almost laughed- it sounded and felt like a sob. ironic: he once thought his back was scarred, broken his skin apart, but he was still whole inside, because of john. now he felt broken from within... and his face... was scarred by tears. because of john.

✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗

a/n: i'll write this with capital letters some time and upload it on ao3. rn this felt like it needed to be written without them.

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful

#writing is a coping mechanism #it's fine i'm fine #turtely writes #heartbreak #sherlock!whump #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #angst

92 notes · View notes

sulieykte · 11 months

Note

(📸 anon here…. this is after that scene i mentioned earlier, readers hurt and teyam is uncontrollably angry bc of it AGGHHHH i cant stop thinking about it.)

“what the fuck were you thinking?” he’s seething, eyes darting across your body as if memorizing every new imprint and scar. chest heaving, eyebrows scrunched, teeth bared. animalistic. the bags under his eyes, his untended wounds…how long had he been there? jake is about to step in, but neytiri grabs his arm—inquisitive about the exchange. jake looks at her in confusion, but complies.

you move to get up, grunting the new angle pressing your bandaged wound. you grab onto the nearest ledge, trying to steady yourself. “i’m a warrior. it is my duty.” you try and match his scowl, but it resembles a wince more.

“i am not your duty.” his tail is whipping back and forth, and lo’ak is trying to step up and play damage control—but he’s quickly stopped by the heat of your glare when you glance over at him. “this was not honorable. it was stupid.” his voice contains more anger than you’ve ever heard from him—surprising. his fists are clenched at his sides, and you can almost spot the crescent shaped indent his nails would leave in its wake.

“stop with the hero act,” you hiss out, eyes narrowing as you scan over his own wounds. anger clenches at your heart at his disheveled state. you remember, the chaos of the battle field. all the screams. and yet, your eyes were only searching for him. his limp body, the way you reacted and shielded him before you could even comprehend the situation. “i saved your life.”

“you shouldn’t have.” hes sizing you up now, voice laced with venom as he spat the words out. like he’s disgusted. his chest is against yours, towering over you as if proximity would prove his point. “i do not need you to protect me.”

“then who will?” your eyes narrow, face tilting up as you meet his gaze with an equally fiery one. he falters for a second at your words, eyebrows clinching together. “you know, i don’t think you care about me getting hurt. i think you’re just mad it was me who saved you.” you puff your chest out, matching his stature. “your ego can’t take it.” you can’t hide the hurt, the way you’re gritting out your words and trying to disguise it with a humorless laugh.

“and you know what?” your shoulders slump a little, averting your eyes to his scraped up knuckles, the dirt encrusting his fingernails. you barely manage to drag your eyes up again, guard falling down as your head tilts to the side. you take in his face, the way his inky eyelashes brush against his cheek bone, the curve of his nose, the plush of his scarred lips. you almost take the time to count each bioluminescent freckle gracing his face, if it wasn’t for his pressing, hooded gaze.

“i’d do it again.” you manage to push out, inhaling as you try and convey everything you felt within those four words. the terror of losing him, the pain of how he draws you in only to push you away; the agonizing, overwhelming hold he has on you. you didn’t mean for your voice to be such a weak, vulnerable whisper; didn’t mean for a glossy sheen to consume your eyes as you admit it. you push past him, clutching your wound before you could see his reaction.

I'm so happy that my nonnie has asked me to share this with you guys, I keep coming back and re-reading. I just think they're so talented and I'm already hooked on their writing.

Adding a cheeky poll to this bc we got to convince them to write more

#📸 anon #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam x oc #neteyam sully #neteyam x y/n #neteyam angst #neteyam x you #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic #avatar x reader #avatar x oc #avatar x y/n #✧˖*°࿐ 𝒍𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 #✧˖*°࿐ 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒔

378 notes · View notes

sunshine-and-moonshine · 10 months

Text

Au Where I Make Cod Characters Act Like Characters I Simp For From Other Fandoms

Requested: No

Warnings: Blood Drinking, Voyeurism, Ghost has 3 sons (all fully grown and 25+, their names are Payton, Quentin, and Rowan), small bit of ✨spice✨, Dub-Con touching, Reader is called “Wife” and “Woman” in Soap’s part (if you know who Eddie Gluskin is, you know why), torture, tarantula, tarantula crawling on the reader, mentions of gore, blindfolding, abduction

Ghost - Lady Dimitrescu (Re8)

Ghost stares down at you, on your knees before him, shaking in fear while looking entirely out of place on his expensive rugs with your dirty and tattered clothing, covered in filth from the village outside, scratches all over. Looked like you had tumbled with a Lycan or two, he was almost impressed that you had survived such an encounter.

Ghost sighed as he sipped his wine, the rich taste of a maiden’s blood soaking into his tongue, a burst of beautiful flavor on his senses, like fireworks behind his eyes. He looked to you before looking away again, golden eyes narrowed like a snake’s. He was pretty sure you wouldn’t make good wine. But looks could be deceiving, perhaps he should sample you to be sure?

He heard you squeak and his attention snapped back to you, agitation melting away when he saw that one of sons was was currently kissing and sucking along your neck while another was pushing his hand into your pants, the third palming at your chest while nuzzling his face against yours. Surprisingly gentle for his boys, it seemed that they liked you more than the usual manthings.

He sighed again, deciding that maybe he could keep you around, if only to amuse his rowdy boys.

Soap - Eddie Gluskin (Outlast: Whistleblower)

He saw you. He saw you he saw you he saw you. He knows you’re there, hiding from him. You heard him chase you up the stairs, slammed the door in his face, damn near breaking his nose before locking it behind you. He had to break it down, an easy feat but it had given you plenty of time to hide from him. No matter, the room was only so big.

“Come out, Love. You’re hurting my feelings.” He cooed into thin air, hoping to soothe you like you were some sort of wild animal that got trapped in the asylum. “I just want to love you, can’t you see that?”

Something shifted to his right, he jumped towards it, scraping his elbows on the cement only to find it was a kitten darting through the rubble. He clicked his tongue, annoyance beginning to take hold when his patience started to wain.

“Darling, stop running from me! We’re going to miss the ceremony!” He called, standing to his full height again, brushing dirt off of his makeshift vest. “I want to make an honest woman of ya! Marry ya and fill you up with my bairn.”

Another shift, this time inside a locker. He took care not to focus on it as he checked his pocket for the spare lock he kept for situations just like this.

“You’ll look so pretty, swollen and full of me. And our babes will be so beautiful. I hope they look like you.” He said, trying to make it look like he wasn’t walking towards you, his fingers clenched tight on the lock, stroking the smooth metal. “Maybe with my eyes though. Just a little bit like me so everyone knows who ya belong to.”

The lock clicked in place and he felt your panic in the air before you showed it, but then you were banging on the inside of the locker, chanting a soft “no” again and again like that would get you out of this mess. If he looked close enough he was sure he could see your tears.

“There you are, My Lovely Wife.” He purred happily.

König - Asa Emory (The Collector)

König watched as you squirmed, silent as the grace as you sniffled and sobbed, frightened beyond belief. You’d woken up chained to a ceiling by your wrists, stripped naked save for your panties and the blindfold over your eyes. You couldn’t even remember how you’d gotten here. One moment you were in bed, the next? Here.

And the worst part was that something was crawling on you, sticking to your skin no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, making it’s way up your body. Every step it took with it’s furry legs sent you further into a panic attack. It only amused König as he watched one of his beloved tarantulas walk upon your skin. It made for a lovely picture, he’d have to do this again sometime.

He just couldn’t help himself when he saw you, all wide eyed and scared as he chased you through your house, dead family members and pets all over, slipping in their blood and guts with every turn. He didn’t even know you were home when he started laying his traps. Didn’t even know you existed.

But he was glad you were there. From the second he saw you, he wanted to know what you looked like naked, blood running down your body as he touched you, made you enjoy his touch. He got so excited that he ended up slamming your head into the ground a little too hard when he wants to knock you out. He hoped your brain didn’t suffer too much damage, he wanted you to be able to remember this. Remember your fear.

Maybe he’d paint your pretty face after this, just to watch your tears ruin the makeup, smearing it down your face as he fucked you, all pain and no pleasure. Poor little Fehler. His little Bug.

You shouldn’t have come out of your room.

Alejandro - Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

He could hear you, trying to stifle your sobs as you crawled under barbed wire and through bramble, your sniffles of pain and fear echoing in his ears. It was almost…cute, how you thought you were being quiet. But so sad for you, Little One, he heard you loud and clear.

His hand clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you out of the bushes and into his arms no matter how hard you squirmed and squealed, pushing at him with your cut palms, bits of glass and thorns digging further into your open flesh. He’d need to bandage that for you.

He cooed in your ear, trying to soothe you as his hands patted your face and belly, trying to calm you down as you sobbed. His sweet Nanny, come to watch over him. And he’d watch over you just the same now that he was out of the walls. Once he got you back into the house and tied down onto his bed. Maybe he could calm you down like that, with his tongue between your legs, drawing sweet noises from your lips instead of the fearful ones you were making now.

He lifted his mask up just above his nose, burned nose nudging against yours softly, voice cracking from disuse. “Kiss?” He whispered, watching you shrink in on yourself with frustration. You kissed the doll’s head, but not him?

He sighed, deciding he would have to work on that later as he hauled you over his shoulder, ignoring the pounding on his back as you cried and screamed. No one would hear you. Not ever again. You were his, and nothing would take you away from him.

283 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Part One of Five? Series Masterlist.

Summary: When you move to Hawkins to start over, your new unexpected friendship with your weed dealer next door is your saving grace. It was never your intention to fall in love with him though.

Word count : 3.3K (strangers to friends - friends to lovers)

Warnings: SLOW BURN. None for right now besides the mention of smoking weed but future chapters will be NSFW. My blog is 18 plus.

Authors Note: If anyone is curious this series was inspired by Meatloaf’s Paradise By The Dashboard Light and the idea of being Eddie’s weed dealing passenger princess. I was also inspired by @boomhauer ‘s interpretation of Wayne when I wrote him in this. If you haven’t read disjointed I highly recommend it. Also thank you to my wife @myobmaya for reading it and convincing me it’s good 💞 comments, likes and reblogs are welcome!

Chapter One: Bat Out Of Hell

Leaving the city and disappearing to a small town seemed like a good idea after you dropped out of high school and got your GED. The excitement of a fresh start and the escape of your problems blinded you from one small obstacle. What happens when you run out of weed? It had only been three short months since you moved to Hawkins, making friends had become a nearly impossible feat. No one ever warns you how hard it is to make friends when you’re not in school anymore.

College was for the rich kids. Selling your soul to the work force at sixteen you were more then prepared to live paycheck to paycheck till your last dying breath. The rainy day fund you had saved dwindling dangerously low, you’ve never been more thankful to start a new job in a few days.

The heavy clank of metal pierces your ears, smashing the top and bottom of your grinder together you hope to salvage enough for just one last bowl. The light green powder from the chamber dusts the top of your black coffee table. After one last hard blow you give up with a huff.

Scraping the keef you’d managed to collect with your ID, it’s a steady hand that prepares the fragile task of getting it into your bowl. Taking your time you slowly edge it to the end of the table doing your best not to spill any precious crumbs. Tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth, you are the definition of laser focused.

“OBEY YOUR MASTER - MASTER”

The sound of James Hertfield’s voice is so loud you’d think Metallica was having a concert outside of your trailer door. The disturbance makes you jump. The plastic edge of your ID bends back before it pops forward sending the remains of your weed flying to the carpet of your living room. A loud honk of a horn sends another unexpected shock through your body, hands flying your grinder hits the floor with a loud thud.

Eddie fucking Munson.

The only reason you knew his name was because you heard the older man he lived with yelling it all the time. You could tell the older man wasn’t his dad, but the simple interactions you’d see definitely told you they were family.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. Self control dwindling dangerously low, it takes everything inside of you not to storm over there and punch him between the eyes.

When the thought of physical violence starts seeming more like a extreme response you decide a cigarette is better then nothing. Pushing yourself up off the floor you rummage through your purse on the kitchen table. Finding the crumpled pack smashed at the bottom, a relived sigh leaves your lips when there’s still one more.

Crisp October air hits your skin like knives when you step out your front door. The thin material of your black hoodie barely fights the chill in the wind. Sunset filling the sky with hues of pink and orange it crests over the tops of the trees. The crunch of the gravel beneath your feet could still be heard over the sound of Eddie’s van. His music now at a respectable volume since his grumpy ‘roommate’ was standing at the top of the porch steps. The older mans arms are crossed over his chest, the kind of stance that told you he was ready to give the metal head an earful.

Plopping down on at the wooden table in the middle of the park, you cup your hand over your mouth lighting the cigarette. Getting ready for the show, it’s Eddie Munson’s Karma for wasting the last of your weed.

“Boy, what’d I tell you about the volume of your damn music?!”

Jumping out of the van with a slam of his door, he’s wearing the same thing you’ve almost always seen him in. A leather jacket clad with a denim vest, a metal head’s battle vest with a giant DIO patch sloppily sewn on the back. Even at the end of summer when you moved here, you never saw him without it. Nose scrunching up you know a boy like that probably doesn’t even wash it. His hair looked even more wild then usual, long dark waves sticking out in every direction. The extra body in his curls probably from speeding down the back roads with his windows down. Blasting Metallica so loud its a miracle he’s not deaf.

“Uncle Wayne, I didn’t know you were gonna be home.” With his arms behind his back you notice a metal black lunch box, his stance making it painfully obvious he was hiding it from who you now know is his Uncle’s view.

“You didn’t know I was home? You think our neighbors magically don’t complain if I’m not here?” His hands get more animated as his arms uncross, temper flaring at his nephew.

“Look, it’s not gonna happen again can you calm down please?” Moving forward slightly you watch him tuck the lunch box on top of his van tire hidden from view.

Eddie Munson was sneaky.

“Calm down? I’ll show you calm boy.” Stomping down the stairs you watch his uncle flick him between the eyes.

The whole ordeal becoming so entertaining you can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of your mouth. The noise catches both men’s attention, heads snapping in your direction Eddie’s eyes narrow at the grin on your face. It’s not like you hadn’t seen each other before, but it was only ever awkward smiles or the occasional neighborly wave.

“Can you chill you’re embarrassing me.” Eddie’s tone is hushed when he scolds his uncle.

Inhaling a deep puff of your cigarette you exhale through your nose arching your brow. This was better karma then you could have ever asked for.

“Embarrass you? You should be embarrassed, I’m sure she heard you fly in here like a bat out of hell!” Wayne looks back up giving a short wave before addressing you directly. “I apologize for my nephews rudeness, I hope he didn’t disturb you too much.”

His Uncle was doubling down on embarrassing him. Realizing how much you liked this old man, you were more then ready to play his game.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again, scared me so bad I had to come out and smoke!” You give raising your cigarette in the air the prove it. The smirk on your face only grows wider when you see the glare Eddie’s sending your way. He knew what you were doing.

“It definitely won’t. Right?!” Wayne gives Eddie a look that’s just begging for him to try it.

“Yeah, sorry, won’t happen again.” Grumbling you catch the small roll of his eyes.

“Thanks so much!” Sweetness oozing from your voice, you know it’s the added cherry on top.

“Get inside, Dinner’s on the table and I better not get any calls about that guitar playing at 3am again tonight.”

Wayne doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the hidden lunch box as he pushes him up the steps. Both men disappearing into the trailer leaving you alone in the quiet of dusk. Inhaling again, you close you eyes enjoying the peace and quiet for a minute.The low hum of crickets in the distance calming your previously tense mood. Nicotine hitting the the top of your head, the familiar light headed feeling you’d been craving finally consumes you.

The front door opens again half way expecting Eddie, you’re surprised when it’s just Wayne. His bald head is covered by a baseball cap, paper sack lunch in hand. His heavy work boots stomp down their wooden stairs echoing through the quiet of the park. Kind eyes on you again he smiles before he talks.

“I’m Wayne by the way, I noticed you moved in a few months ago. I’m sorry I haven’t come over to say hi, I work nights so I’m asleep for most of the day.” His voice is gruff but warm when he speaks to you, different then the intensity he spoke with his nephew. You can’t help but feel comfortable in his presence.

Light flashes out of an opening from blinds of the front window catching your attention, big brown eyes meet yours and you realize Eddie’s watching the two of you. The sight makes your lips twitch up.

“Hey, don’t even worry about it. I’m y/n, I moved here from Indianapolis.” Smiling with your teeth you try your best to be friendly with your new neighbor.

“Are you parents living with you? You don’t look much older then my nephew.” Racking your brain you decide to give him the least complicated answered you could muster, forgetting how nosy small town people were.

“Uhhh no, it’s just me. Got my GED and just moved somewhere more affordable. I start at Family Video Friday actually.” Biting your bottom lip, you hope this will be enough information for him to stop pressing and go to work.

“You can’t be older then 20.” He seems just shocked enough not to come off rude.

“I’m 21 actually.” Snuffing the cigarette out all you can think about is how much you want another one.

“Well Eddie’s 20, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind showing you around.” Having noticed your eyes darting to the window he turns around and waves. Eddie’s eyes go wide before the blinds shut quickly. Wayne turns around with a pleased smile on his face, their dynamic slowly becoming your new favorite thing.

“Don’t be a stranger, if you need anything at all just come on over and knock, I’m handy around the house. Don’t let one anyone in town over charge you, they like taking advantage of young women such as yourself.”

The kindness in his gesture stuns you for a minute, so used to doing things yourself there’s something about it that makes you feel less alone. Your new neighbors making this feel more like home.

“Thanks, I appreciate that!” You smile brightly at the older man “Have a good night at work Wayne, I’ll make sure Eddie doesn’t burn the place down.” Winking you relish in the deep chuckle you earn from the joke.

“Glad to have another set of eyes on em’. Have a good night darlin’.” With a wave of his calloused hand he makes his way to his car.

Watching Wayne’s headlights disappear as he turns on the main road, you start a silent count down waiting to see how long it takes Eddie to come collect his mysterious lunch box. When you hit six the front door flies open so loudly you think it might rip off the hinges. Graceful was absolutely not in his vocabulary. Leaning forward on his tippy toes you see him check the road for any sign of his Uncle.

“He’s gone, you can come get your secret little box.” Swinging your leg back over the bench you get ready to head back home.

“You thought that was real funny huh?” Dirty white Reeboks pad down the steps, a playful smile on his lips despite the sassy tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fraying innocence, the smirk that seemed to be becoming a permanent part of your face around him tugs up corners of your mouth again.

Shaking his head, his own smile grows wider as he makes his way to his van. Rings shimmering from the hand on the hood of his car he leans down grabbing the metal box. Pulling it out he shakes it at you letting the contents shuffle around inside.

“Wanna burn one?” Lifting his brows he bites his bottom lip into a smile. Eddie Munson wasn’t just sneaky, Eddie Munson was cute.

“Depends on what we’re burning.” You tease doing your best not to seem too eager. Silently praying to the gods that the man who single handedly wasted your last bowl might now be your new weed supply.

Walking across the unpaved road his fluffy hair bounces with the long strides of his lanky legs, a goofy grin never leaving his face as he approaches you.

The sun having nestled behind the trees leaves you and Eddie in the early darkness of the night. The loud buzz of the street light kicking on drowns out the crickets hidden in the long grass.

“Well sweetheart that depends on what your smoking.” Plopping down across from you, swinging your leg back over you position yourself to face him.

Up close he was even cuter then from the distance you were accustomed to seeing him at. It’s almost enough to make your confidence falter. The plan was to focus on yourself when you moved here, not to get distracted by a boy. Eddie Munson had the potential to be very distracting, especially with the way he licked his lips as he took in your features too.

“Well you do owe me.” Leaning forward you rest your elbows on the table. Chin tucked between your knuckles you look up at him through your lashes.

Noticing the way his breath catches when your eyes meet, your bravado's much easier to keep up with now. Shaking his head with a small smirk he averts his attention back down to his lunch box, flipping the top open to reveal exactly what you’d hoped was inside.

“Why exactly do I owe you?” Mimicking your position he leans forward invading your personal space. His chocolate eyes are deep and all consuming, a flirty playfulness hidden behind his pupils

Despite the redness in your cheeks and your sudden need to remember how to breathe, you refuse to break. He was going to give you free weed.

“Your little stunt earlier made me drop the last of my weed all over my livingroom carpet. Your uncle was right when he called you a bat out of hell.” Smirking, your proud of the fact that you get him to roll his eyes before he leans back to dig a rolled joint out of the tin.

“Just because I’m feeling generous, not because you’ve convinced yourself that I owe you for being clumsy. Consider it a belated welcome to Hell, I mean Hawkins.”

“Clumsy? It sounded like Metallica was outside my front door.” Scoffing, your eyes catch how fat the joint between his fingers is, the sight is almost enough to make your mouth water. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you can’t help but admire how much better it looks when it’s sitting in Eddie Munson’s very kissable mouth.

“You know Metallica?” He asks holding the joint between his teeth, he cups a hand over it to block the wind from snuffing out the flame of his zippo lighter. It’s big, silver, and gaudy just like the rings that littered his fingers. With a devil etched into the metal of it, even just knowing him for a few minutes you could tell it was very on brand for the man in front of you.

“I’m more of a Meatloaf girl but I dabbled in Ride the Lightning.” Eyes trained on the way the smoke exhales from his nostrils, he raises his eyebrows impressed with your answer.

His big hand reaches out passing the joint, the remainder of his hit leaving his mouth as he speaks.

“That album does fucking rock, but have you heard their new one yet?”

Eddie’s eyes can’t stop looking at the way your lips wrap around the joint. It was hard for him to get over just how pretty you were up close. A beautiful girl who smokes weed and has good taste in music? Give him a few more minutes of conversation and he just might fall in love.

Inhaling deeply the smoke hits your lungs in a comforting tightness, closing your eyes you savor the feeling for a second.

“I did about thirty minutes ago.” Exhaling you you can’t help but smile around the white cloud that leaves your mouth.

Rolling his eyes again, he sighs dramatically. “Look -“ Snapping his fingers he points at you realizing he never actually got your name.

“Y/N” Taking another hit you pass it back to him, finger tips brushing together like an electric current.

“Look, Y/N if we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to let that go. I will not feel bad about blessing your ears with my impeccable taste in music.” Eddie’s grin makes his dimples peak out from the middle of his cheeks.

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to be friends.”

“We’ll be inseparable just watch, I can spot a creep from a mile away.” Handing you the half smoked joint back his smile falters when headlights turn into the entrance of the trailer park.

Turning to meet his line of sight you see a pick up truck with four boys, all of them dawning green letterman jackets. Rowdy and rude, two of them sit in the bed of the truck beer cans in hand. Another with a Hawkins baseball cap dangles out of the passenger window, letting out a loud whistle when he sees you and Eddie.

“Hey! There’s the freak!” One of them yells with a point of his finger as the truck comes to a stop next to his van.

“What the fuck?” Confused you turn around and see all the playfulness drain from Eddie’s handsome features. His face growing cold, eyes narrowing at the nickname.

“Come on Munson, leave the girl alone. I’m sure she’s not interested in joining your little satanic cult.” A blonde haired boy with a face you wanted to sucker punch emerges from the driver side door. His blue eyes piercing in a way that felt almost evil.

“We’ve got 50 bucks and a game to get to, can we hurry this up?” The one from passenger window calls before throwing a wink in your direction.

Gagging dramatically you flip him off. Your anger quickly turning to shock when you see him closing up his lunch box. He was listening to them.

“Are you seriously going to sell to them?” The disbelief is more then evident in your voice as you watch him get to his feet.

“Bills gotta get paid sweetheart.” Its simple when it comes out of his mouth. Knowing better then most the struggles of making ends meet, you feel stupid for even getting mad at him.

A plastic bag with about an eighth of weed slaps down on the table in front of you, the smile you had quickly grown fond of returning to his face.

“This is for flipping that asshole off.” He says in a low voice before giving you wink. With out giving you time to respond he’s gone, jogging over to the impatient group of boys. Turning back around mid way his smile grows even bigger before adding “Definitely not for the loud music though!”

Rolling your eyes you can’t stop the shit eating grin that takes over your face, snuffing out the joint you pocket the gift from your new friend.

Making your way back to your trailer you can’t help but feel a smidgin of hope for the first time in a long time, maybe moving here was a good idea. Or maybe it was just Eddie Munson’s really good weed. Either way you want to bask in this feeling for as long as you can. Something telling you a friendship with the clumsy, sweet, pot dealing metal head next door is exactly what you need right now.

Chapter Two.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #wayne munson #steve harrington #robin buckley

810 notes · View notes

normal-internet-user · 1 year

Note

Hello Normie :)

May I request a 2012 Donnie x reader where reader has a part time job at library? Perhaps one day she's closing and the purple dragons gang up on her but Donnie saves her and they have a cheesy moment like they have in romance novels!

Have a wonderful day/night

-🌻

I love romance novels, *Dreamy sigh*

HELLO MR. TURTLE

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: You work part time at the Library, and one night you're asked to lock up. On your way home, you get jumped by some purple dragons, thankfully, our turtle genius is there to rescue you!

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Requested: 🌻 Anon!

Female Reader!

....................................

You pushed the now empty bookcart behing the counter.

You were working at the Library after school for some extra cash, and your supervisor had offered you overtime pay to close up for the night.

Moving over to the breaker, you flicked each indivitual switch, the respective light going out with each one. Once the Library was completely dark, you grabbed you things off the counter, and made your way out the door.

You pulled out the extra key your suoervisor had given you, and locked the heavy doors. After that, you made sure the key was tucked safely in your bag, and began the trek home.

It wasn't fully dark yet, but the sky was a beautiful meld of oranges, reds, pinks, even the off blue, and it was rapidly fading into darkness.

You turned down the familiar alley that would let you out on your street. You used this shortcut everyday, but with the now almost non-exsistent sunlight, it was alot more terrifying.

You reached the mouth of the alley, and you let out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. That relief quickly turned into panic when someone grabbed you by your shoulders, and yanked you back into the alley.

You let out a loud yelp when you came in contact with the hard concrete. Fearfully you looked up at your attackers, cursing silently when you see the signiture tattoo of the Purple Dragons gang.

"Hey there, sweetheart, whatcha got in that nice little bag of yours?" The man walked up to you slowly, pulling you up off the ground by your arm.

"None of your buisness! Let me go!" You yanked your arm from his grip, and rushed back the way you had come from, you heard the Purple Dragons shout from behind you, but you kept running down the now darkend sidewalk.

'The Library!' you thought to yourself, 'Get to the Library!'

You ran up the steps to the old building, the key in your hand. Just as you reached the door, one of your attackers wrapped his arm around you in a headlock. You started to shout, struggling to the best of your ability.

"Let me go, you dead beat dumbass!" You shouted.

"Hey, hey, didn't you momma teach you to watch your mouth?"

You wrinkled your nose, "At least my mom taught me how to brush my teeth. You need a mint." You elbowed him in the stomach, but it didn't do much, and you wiggled around while his friends sifted through your bag.

"Why I oughta-"

The goon holding you suddenly cut himself off, he then let you go and fell backwards onto the concrete, unconcious.

The suddeness of his letting you go caused you to fall face forward, and you caught yourself, scraping up your hands. The pain was erased from your mind as you watched your shelled savior make quick work of the final two Purple Dragons.

The turtle boy checked to make sure that the Dragons wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, he then walked over to you, nervous smile gracing his face as he held out his hand to help you up.

You took it with a nervous smile of your own, "Thank you for your help." you muttered as you stood.

He smiled at you, handing you your bag, "No, problem miss..."

"Oh, I'm (Name)! Nice to meet you."

You took your bag from his hands and he leaned on his staff, "Nice to meet you too, (Name). I'm Donatello, but everyone calls me Donnie."

You hummed and started going through you bag to make sure you had everything, glancing up at Donnie, "So, what brings you to the Library, Donnie?"

"Well, I planned on getting some text books, but-" he tugged on the door handle, "It's closed. I ususally sneak in through the back so no one see's me."

You smiled, "Well, maybe I can help you with that." You held up the key, and used it to unlock the door, "Consider it my thanks for saving me."

You pushed the door open and the two of you walked inside, Donnie immediatly running to the engineering section.

You giggled as you locked the door behind you, you found his enthusiasm kinda cute. He was kinda cute if you were being honest.

You made your way behind the counter where you knew there would be a fist aid kit. You cleaned and wrapped your scrapes, once you were happy with the bandage placement, you return the first aid kit to it's place, and go to join Donnie in the engineering section.

"Finding everything you need?"

Donnie glances back at you, smiling sheepishly, "Uhm, actually, no. Do you know if there's a copy of Advanced wire and circutry anywhere?"

"Actually, I think there's one on one of the bookcarts." You told him to wait there and ran over to the full bookcarts near the dropoff box.

"Aha! Found one!" You held it up triumphantly and walked over to the counter to check the book out, whilst Donnie walked over with his other selections.

You thought for a second, then quickly scribbled your number on a post it note and stuck it in the back of the book. You handed him the book with a smile and moved to check out the rest.

"Thank you." He said as he excepted the books, "I promise I'll have them back on time, I have a perfect record!"

You snorted, "No duh. I take you've never actually checked any book out before?"

"Well, touchè. But I will have them back on time."

"I don't doubt that."

After making sure the front door was locked, the two of you made your way out the back. Donnie offered to walk you home, but, you declined.

So you bid eachother a goodnight, and you began your trek home once again, wondering if you'd ever actually see your purple masked savior again.

....................................

All done 🌻 Anon! Sorry for the long wait, but I have so many requests it's, like, insane. You guys are gonna have a steady stream of content that's for sure!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 x reader #2012 donnie #tmnt 2k12 #donatello x reader #Normie writes

332 notes · View notes

mirohtron · 4 months

Text

im writing for @kaiwewi for this year's Secret Santa :) their prompt was:

Please write a story about a villain who is more of a mascot for their group of competent 'henchman' rather than an actual boss/leader.

—

Technically, the villain should've had the foresight to see this coming. They should've, probably, mentioned it to their leader, and if not them at least some lower-tier henchman. At least casually. Been like, hey, if I get kidnapped, you'll wanna save me, right? Could be hard to replace me.

Oh, man.

This wasn't really happening, was it?

A rough, hard punch to the cheek sent their whole world spinning. A pink leather-clad hand yanked them up from the back of their hair to keep them from sinking. The villain considered screaming for help and quickly thought against it. They had to stay put. Had to.

"Got you now," said the crueler hero. What was her name again? Something pretty and harmless that didn't match her dreadful grin. The guy beside her was all red and gold muscle. The villain had seen him grace the covers of a couple magazines before; their mother had been subscribed to Vanity growing up.

Oh, if only their mother could see them right now. Getting kidnapped in a back alley in the dead of night. In civilian clothes too, at that. Embarrassing.

"Took you long enough," the villain replied, and the next punch knocked a tooth out. They spat it out in a bloody glob, staining the red hero's boots. On the black asphalt, their molar looked like a red fucking star. Or perhaps a bloody ship lost at sea. Their saliva was salty and their breath metallic.

Fuck. Fuck, they should've brought this up with their leader at least once.

Red circled Pink like a slinking cat, waiting to strike at her say-so.

"Hurt them," she ordered, and Red drove his knee into the villain's gut, driving all the air out of their lungs, and threw them to the asphalt. Their palms scraped against loose gravel. Their tooth was right beside their little finger. The villain's lungs spasmed and they could barely catch up to their pain.

Their henchmen never hit them. Sure, the villain was used as a mascot, was the assigned 'fall guy' if it all went to shit, but their henchmen never hit them. Why would they? There was no reason to damage your mask... unless they ratted you out to a bunch of heroes.

What a wonderful excuse that would be. Hitting them to build up pain tolerance so they wouldn't go around breaking in interrogations. The villain wasn't even sure what these heroes did to get people like them to break. They'd heard horror stories about electrocution. Hallucinogens. It made their stomach churn.

Pink dug the heel of her boot into the villain's sternum, watching them struggle to breathe. Beside her, Red silently watched the scene occur like a good toy.

"Look at them," she remarked. Her eyes were alight with a predatory glow. "Helpless without their minions."

"Like you without your bitch," the villain rasped.

Pink's expression turned terrible, and she brought her boot down on their face with fury.

The world went white.

—

There is no point in explaining how they got into this position. The only thing you need to know is this: despite the fear surrounding the villain’s name and their face, despite their grandeur, and even despite the terrifying speeches they spent hours poring over before releasing to the public, all the villain was, was a mascot to their henchmen and their shadowy leader. They were powerless, merely a result of perfect cues and perfect illusions. Behind the scenes, they were as replaceable as a magician’s cards.

—

The villain could not see for several hours.

It was possible that nobody was coming. A small part of their mind, harbouring a particularly loud voice, feared that their henchmen were already looking for replacements. Maybe they already had a list of candidates that they were crossing out.

In the most pathetic parts of the villain's mind they considered giving up every bit of information they knew, inclined to believe that somewhere out there, was a body double suited up and in the midst of memorising a script. Perhaps in exchange for information, they’d be offered a stable life. How delusional.

Someone had taken their sweater off, and some skin on their forearms was raw and red from when Red shoved them to the ground, tender in the chilly air of whatever room they were held in.

Rough hands forced their arms to wrap around the backrest of a metal chair. The villain took in a wheezing gasp and struggled as they heard the rustle of a thick cord being unwrapped.

"Ugh," came an apathetic voice, and a third hand wrapped around the back of their neck and forced their head down. They couldn't struggle like this; the metal dug into their flesh and they weren't strong enough to put up a fight.

The cord was fastened, and the blindfold over their eyes was yanked out.

Neon lights as bright as the sun blinded them, and they caught the glint of water just below their vision.

“Now,” commanded a voice, and a red hand caught their hair, and before the villain could register a goddamn thing they were drowning.

The villain made the biggest mistake of their life: they breathed, and their brain went into instant shock as water burned their airways. They opened their mouth to gasp and choked on liquid death, ears popping, their body's temperature dropping. The bowl's edges dug into their neck and jaw and they struggled and struggled, feet kicking the floor, hitting table legs and air and other useless things.

The hand on their neck kept them down, cold, unfeeling. Murderous. The villain's lungs burned; the water remained ice cold. Their heart jack-knifed in their chest, threatened to break out of their ribs. The water suffocated them mercilessly.

They were dying. They were dying and nobody was coming to help.

The world went as white as those neon lights.

—

Cold water ran down their chin, wetting their chest, making their hair stick to their face. The skin on their arms burned from the metal chair. The interrogation (torture?) room was all metal walls and neon lights.

The villain's lungs burned with each breath, but they took in air graciously. Had they blacked out?

A blurry face, pale and cruel, came into view, haloed by the lights. Behind Pink, the villain spotted cuffs hanging from a stained wall. Beside her feet were worn cords, dried blood on them.

The metal on this chair was rusted. They'd need a tetanus shot if they got cut from this, right?

Pink turned to Red, who stood behind them. "Dim the lights."

The hand on their hair left. Pink caught the villain's jaw, leaning down to look at them eye to eye.

The villain took in another noisy, unsteady breath. Their stomach still churned. Their chest felt as cold as their chair.

The lights dimmed until Pink's features were highlighted ghostly white, shadowed menacingly. Red's presence behind the villain felt radioactive.

Someone had to come. Someone had to. They were a good mascot, weren't they? But acrobats were as replaceable to circuses as playing cards were to a magician. They clenched their corded hands into tight, trembling fists.

Her grip threatened to bruise. "I knew there was something wrong with you," she said. "So brave playing the evil guy, treating the city like it's a stage, but without your employers, you're just another regular crook, aren't you?"

The villain’s chest seized at the accuracy with which she’d clocked them, but they forced themselves to give her the most cutting grin they could muster. "We're much more similar than you think, you and I."

Red pulled their head back and pressed something metallic to their neck—a blade. The villain let out a terrified sound, and Pink laughed. "Look at them," she said. "Shaking like a leaf at a blunt knife."

"I could do a lot of damage with it," said Red. He dragged the knife down, rusty just like everything else in this damn room, trailing grime down their skin in its wake. He aimed the point of it at the hollow of their throat, and the villain choked on a noise. "Could poke here with enough pressure, see what happens."

The villain desperately shook their head as much as they could. Pink seemed to delight in their reaction.

Oh, god. They scrambled for some lines stored in their head, from watching movies and reading scripts and writing speeches. "Come on," they tried, struggling to get their voice to adopt a careless lilt. The blunt point of the knife felt suffocating. Was it blocking their blood flow? "Can't we all come to an agreement here?"

They weren’t even expecting a proper response to that. But Pink’s entire attitude seemed to flip, and the look in her eyes went from sinister to eager with such swiftness that it made the villain shiver. "Oh, we could," She said, crouching down and looking up at them with sudden kindness. "Tell me," she said, "what your henchmen are up to." She traced her thumb over the villain's knee. "And I will personally assure your safe withdrawal from them, and you'll never see us or them ever again."

The villain looked down at her in silence, unnerved. A cold drop of water dripped down from their hair, down the bridge of their nose. They wouldn't snitch. They couldn't.

She traced the outline of their kneecap patiently. Behind her, Red stood in silence. His knife was gone. The villain could hear their heartbeat.

"You know," said the villain. "Oddly enough I don't believe that."

Pink lit their knee on fire, broke a fucking bone, did something horrible, because their kneecap lit up in absolute agony and they screamed, and Red was drowning them again.

—

Their chest was soaked, their jaw ached from all of the punches and backhanded slaps they'd received, and their scalp felt bruised from the harshness with which Pink and Red manhandled their head.

Nobody was coming. The lights were dim and the sun was probably rising outside, and a rising sun meant no shadows for their leader to travel with. They couldn't tell how long it'd been.

It'd been long enough for an alarmingly red bruise to start forming on their knee, though. Perhaps a couple hours. Their leader’s right-hand had once told them how long it took for bruises to form. They reckoned this one would turn a hideous purple in a couple of days and stay like that until next week. If they were alive until next week.

They coughed up water and phlegm. Pink nudged them with rough fingers to their temple. Red sharpened that blunt knife with a whetstone, the sound of it piercingly loud in their ears. It wasn't rusty. It bled, staining the water red, making it glint like the devil's eyes in the low light.

Pink held out her hand. "Bring it over."

Like a fucking dog, Red obeyed. Pink flicked the knife around like a magician did their cards. The villain flinched.

She laughed. God, that dreadful laugh. She pressed the cusp of her palm down on their forehead and a whimper eked out of the villain's throat, but they couldn't snitch. They couldn't. Yes, they were expendable. Yes, they knew their henchmen looked down on them to some degree. And yes, all that they were, was a mask for a coalition of bad guys to hide behind.

But. But.

They didn't have anywhere else to go.

The knife pressed cold against their neck. Red walked over to see, curious like a child. The lights were so dim that the ceiling was pitch black.

The villain stared at Pink with wide eyes, unsure if this was a threat or the real deal. But then the knife began to slice, and the villain jerked and flinched in their restraints.

Oh, god, oh god oh god oh god. The villain strained their wrists against the cords once more, dug their toes into the fucking floor, wishing something would swallow them up.

"I'm sorry!" they said in their absolutely ruined, drowned voice. "I'll—I'll tell! I swear I'll fucking rat those guys out like it's no tomorrow."

"There it is," said Red in his detached voice.

"There it is," repeated a pleased Pink. She turned the knife up and pressed it to a vein that the villain knew was important because the leader's right hand had mentioned it once. The jugular, or something? They choked on a breath. "Let it all come out, honey."

Oh, god, were they really going to do this? The villain looked at the ceiling, praying for something to come and help them. Their legs and arms shook. Their knee ached. They looked at a shadowy, void-like patch tucked away in the upper corner of the ceiling as though it would save them.

The void stared back.

The villain choked again.

One eye, glowing gold like a ring stared at them. Then another. A pair of eyes staring back at them, familiar ones, gold, like...

Their leader’s face emerged from the shadows, a finger pressed to her lips. Burning relief flooded the villain's veins.

Pink stared at them intently, patiently still. Waiting for a response. Their leader slinked back into the shadows, snake-like in her smoothness, and the villain scrambled to put on a mask.

Like an actor on stage, they twisted their face up in pain, anger, hurt, grief. "They're such cruel people," the villain said, staring deeply into Pink's eyes. "Such terrible, cruel people."

Their leader approached.

Pink leaned in, handed the knife over to Red to pocket. "Poor thing," she remarked.

The villain nodded, leaning in with her. "Yes," they breathed. "Poor you."

They kicked her knees and heard a crunch. Pink screamed, stumbling back, and their leader shot out of the darkness, fist curled and glinting—brass knuckles?—and punched the back of her head. She went down like a rag doll.

"Holy shit—" Someone snapped their cords off, and the villain was quickly hauled up to their legs, that same blade pressing into their neck. They seized.

Red's fist shook as he clutched the villain's hair. The knife quivered.

Their leader froze.

"Get down." Red's voice was calm, but his chest rose in unsteady breaths behind the villain's back.

The other raised her hands up placatingly, slipping the bloody brass knuckles off. At her feet, Pink's body twitched, her hair stained, blood pooling around her head and spreading at an alarming rate. Her twitching seemed to make Red tick worse.

The villain's heart felt close to bursting. Their chest was still wet from that water bowl, and their knee threatened to give out on them. The room was growing darker. "Stop that," gritted out Red. "I'll give you your mascot if you leave us alone. I need—I need to fix her."

"You'll remember us. You'll remember them." Their leader carefully gestured to the villain. "I can't let that happen."

Red didn't want to hear that—the blade twitched against the villain's neck. They whimpered in fright. The shadows twitched closer. "You hit the back of her head."

"Yes, I know how to give someone amnesia."

"I can heal the wound, but the brain damage will remain. She won't remember anything, and, and—" Pink twitched again, some horrible noise escaping her throat. Red's glove squeaked with the effort it took to not simply drive the blade into the villain's neck. "I'll give you your goddamn mascot if you take back the shadows, just let me save her."

The leader looked at the villain, no doubt taking in their dripping wet hair, the slowly forming bruises on their cheeks, the steady way the tiny cut on their neck bled.

The shadows retreated. Red shoved them forward and dove to Pink, quickly removing his gloves and hovering a shaking hand over her wound. He whispered soft, soothing things to her and caressed her bloodstained hair as his hand took on a healing, golden glow.

The villain stumbled into their leader's arms, completely wetting the front of their shirt, but the leader didn't seem to mind. Her arms wrapped firmly around them, protective, and pressed them closer. The villain gladly melted into their embrace, taking in trembling gasps.

Their leader bowed her head to whisper into their ear, "You betrayed us."

The villain bodily flinched. They looked up at their leader, but her expression was blank, unreadable. "What?"

One hand left to fish something out of their pockets, the other arm remained to keep the villain pressed close like a cord. Their leader pulled out a gun and the villain froze, paling, but she merely struck the butt of it against Red's head. It was too harsh; his whole body moved with the hit, and he was thrown to the side. His fingers were still stained with Pink's blood. "You broke, didn't you? You must've told them bits and pieces of information, to keep the pain at bay."

"I—I didn't..." The villain didn't what? They knew they should be defending themselves. But their throat was merely closing up. "Madame," they restarted. "She put a knife to my neck."

Their leader cocked their head to the side, as though they were trying to spot a lie. The villain stepped back and looked down at their feet, pressing a finger to their bleeding neck.

Stationed outside of what turned out to be an old, run-down building was their leader's right-hand. They took one look at the villain's limp and clucked, giving them their arm to hold on to.

It was still a couple hours from sunrise. The villain glared at the ink-blue sky stretching out into the horizon and let the right-hand inspect all the bruises and cuts they could see.

Their leader left to pull out the sleek black car they'd be travelling in.

—

So their henchmen hadn't come because they cared. They'd just come to protect themselves. Technically, the villain couldn't blame them—they'd been desperate enough to consider spilling all the information they knew to save their own skin.

But still. But still. They'd been drowned.

The villain stared out at all the buildings and streets they passed and tried to get any depressing thoughts out. They'd get out of this. They'd clear their name. And their leader would trust them less, but at least they'd still have a home.

—

The ache in their knee grew worse with time. To their chagrin, the right-hand carried them into the lair like a bride, and the mascot (they didn't need to pretend anymore) stubbornly stared at their hurt knee, chest still squeezing, heart still pounding.

The right-hand wanted to take them to the med bay; their leader told him to look after the mascot in her quarters. As the right-hand moved aside paperwork, bottles of ink, and stacks of files and folders from their leader's desk, she went fishing for a medkit in her ensuite.

Right-hand caught their chin, tilting their face up to the light. They brushed a thumb against the corner of the mascot's frowning lip. "They punched you?"

"My tooth's gone."

The right-hand perched them over the expensive wood, their hands steady and oddly comforting. Gone as soon as they were done. "And what happened to your knee?"

"I don't know. One of them squeezed it or something."

"I see." The right-hand brushed their fingers over the front of their damp shirt, frowned, and went to look for drier clothing.

Their leader came back and placed the medkit down on their desk with too much force. The mascot flinched. Their right-hand glanced at them from where they fished for new clothes.

Her expression said: explain. The mascot swallowed.

"I didn't tell them anything," they said.

Their leader tilted their head to the side, and it made the mascot's chest squeeze. She leaned into their space and the mascot clenched their fists. "I'm being very gentle because I know you don't like pain, and I know that that would've made you betray us back in that old warehouse. That red hero knew you were a mascot. What else did you tell them?"

"I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"You would."

The mascot shoved them. The right-hand glanced at the two, alarmed. "If you were as helpless as me, you would crack too!"

Their leader, to the mascot's frustration, showed no reaction to that shove. They went down on their feet despite their hurt knee, putting more distance between the pair. Their hands shook. Some papers flew off of the desk, and the mascot didn't care that they stepped on them.

"I know I would have." Their leader took on a faux-soothing voice. "That's why I'm asking you—what did you tell them?"

"Nothing!"

"You were ready to rat us out like no tomorrow. That's not nothing."

"What?" the right-hand asked from near the wardrobe.

"Shut up!” yelled the mascot, feeling slightly hysterical. This wasn’t going well. This wasn’t going well at all. “I had a knife to my neck!" They pointed to their cut. They could feel their throat closing, their voice growing croaky. "I was drowning, and they were hitting me, and—" To their embarrassment, wetness was coming to their eyes. They felt terrible. Of course their leader wouldn't trust them; the mascot didn't trust her either. But they felt hurt regardless.

They thought they were worth saving. Weren't they?

"Oh." The leader sounded disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't cry like that."

The mascot threw a bottle of ink at them. It shattered against their chest, staining it black.

Their right-hand was frozen. The mascot swayed on unstable feet, head pounding. Their leader looked at the mess on their chest in mild shock, eyes imperceptibly wider than before. That didn’t make the mascot feel better.

A tear, traitorously, escaped and ran down their cheek. The mascot covered their red face. They could hear their heartbeat. It drowned out every other noise there could be.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," they confessed. A soft hiccup escaped their throat, and their body felt tight in their discomfort. "It's not like I shattered. I was afraid the moment they caught me. I was afraid I was going to be replaced up until the moment I saw you. But I didn't say a single thing, not until they cut me, because they were cruel—I didn't want to lose my fingers and teeth to people who would never come to save me."

For a very, very long moment, nobody said a goddamn thing. The mascot wished to disappear. Someone touched their shoulder and they swatted that hand off. "Don't touch me."

The moments ticked on. The mascot stared at the floor in a quiet, tired sort of anger. The kind that a toddler experiences after throwing a tantrum that gets them nothing but a tired body and a tear-soaked face.

They should’ve never been saved.

“I’m sorry,” came the leader’s quiet voice. The mascot glanced up and saw that she was not looking at them. “I have misjudged you. I shouldn’t have.”

It would be the mature decision to accept that apology, but the mascot didn’t want to do that. So they stared at their feet and said, bitterly, “When have you not?”

Their leader’s hand was stained with ink, as dark as their shadows, and they rubbed the pads of their fingers together. “You can retire to your quarters now. I’ll send my right hand to check on you soon.”

The mascot was thankful for that; they stepped out of the room and burst into tears immediately.

—

The right-hand’s fingers rested on the mascot’s hip as they applied a salve to their hurt knee.

“I’m sorry,” came their quiet apology.

“What are you apologising for?”

They didn’t meet the mascot’s eye. The right-hand gazed at their thumb, which traced circles on the villain’s slowly numbing knee. “It wasn’t a unanimous decision to save you, I admit. There was a fight. But the leader and I wanted you back. We were all divided. But she insisted.”

The mascot laughed wryly. “‘Cause I’d leak information?”

“That’s not what was on the forefront of her mind.”

“Then what was?”

The right hand looked up at them, and they really did seem regretful. They cupped the mascot’s jaw. “I knew you were missing a tooth the moment I saw you. We found it, you know, in a back alley near your apartment. She flipped before we could even confirm it was yours.”

“You…confirmed it was mine?”

The right-hand turned a bizarre shade of pink. “When you first joined us, you gave up your medical records. And that includes your dental records, so…”

“...Oh.”

—

Crickets chirped past their bedroom window. The mascot stared into the darkness of their room, sleep slow to catch up to them. The salve’s effects were wearing off, the pain coming back in growing aches. Faint rays of five a.m. sunlight trickled into their room through gaps in their curtains, glowing prussian blue.

When their eyelids began to grow heavy, the shadows in their room curled towards them, hesitant to touch, keen on encompassing.

“You came,” the mascot mumbled tiredly. The shadows came nearer. “Because you thought I was hurt?”

I was afraid for your safety, said the shadows. But I didn’t make that clear, and I let my paranoia get ahead of my better judgment. For that, I am sorry.

“But you still came,” they repeated, “To save me.”

As soft as morning mist, the shadows slithered around before their lips. I did, it agreed. Of course I did.

The mascot drifted off to sleep, safe and snug.

#secret santa #kyles.writing #so sorry. if the dynamic is weird. i tried to cook #AND SORRY THAT ITS LONG OH GOD 4K WORDS 💀#omfg but shes done 😭😭😭 FINALLY #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain x villain #mascot x villain #mascot x villain x right hand #if you squint #i tried to cook as i said #hero x hero #if you squint marginally less #theyre kinda....idk #pink x red #kaiwewi

95 notes · View notes

rosiegirlie · 23 days

Text

Before You Go Performing

summary: When Billie ran away from the circus to serve as a nurse in the WAC she thought that was the end of her entertaining days. She never thought she’d be using her skills to help cheer up a flak happy John Egan, nor did she think that they’d be partly responsible for her life changing for good. // a vague 5+1 sort of deal where some intense eye contact changes everything word count: 23k a/n: I'm a woman obsessed with Rosie and this is the result ! I have more things in the works for this little universe but this is where it all starts for Rosie & Billie. It's not as historically accurate as it could be, so apologies in advance. AO3

Like most nights out with the girls Billie stuck to the walls, electing to keep to herself while the party around her raged on. She preferred the pub in town but she had to admit the officer’s club had it’s perks including more space for her to stick to herself. This was a party unlike any they’d had here on base and rightly so; it was rare a pilot got to the required twenty five missions before going home and Dye’s achievement was worth celebrating. It seemed like every possible person on base and even a couple of their neighbors showed up to join in on the affair. Even though she wasn’t feeling it herself, Billie appreciated the energy filling the air. It was a night of letting loose and living in the moment, for celebrating still being alive. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she looked onto the dance floor from her chair in the corner.

Her best friend Barbara and their fellow nurse June were on the dance floor with men Billie didn’t recognize. Replacements. Billie hadn’t been aware a new group of them had rolled in but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. They’d been due for a while now. She scanned the room trying to pick out more men she didn’t recognize. Her eyes came back to June and her man who was all elbows and knees. It didn’t seem like he had a dancing bone in his body but June’s face was brighter, her smile wider than Billie had ever seen. At least someone was having a good night.

Billie took a deep swig of her drink. There was a time in her life where it would have been her out on the floor having the good night, trying to wrangle a dance partner. Billie was never the life of the party but at least she used to live a little. For some reason it was like her entire personality shifted when she joined up.

Lieutenant Harry Crosby walked in front of her, a drink in each hand. Seeing him brought an immediate damper to her mood and she tipped her glass back to finish the last of her beer. Crosby had been one of her victims earlier that day and she wondered how bad his arm was bruising. They had been taking blood donations from the men not on mission and Billie made a fool of herself. Again. No matter how hard she tried or practiced Billie just couldn’t get the hang finding the vein in the first go. There were probably plenty on base who wanted to change their mind on donating blood when they saw she was the one working. She didn’t hold it against anyone. Billie knew she wasn’t a good nurse. She scraped by in her training and she’d been keeping her head afloat somehow but for how much longer she didn’t know. Billie’s saving grace was her CO who did her best to schedule Billie in the mornings before and during missions, any shift so she’d be done and out of the way when it was time for the real work to start. If she was lucky she’d get to help out with setting up the coffee and donuts for the Clubmobile, but more often than not it was inventory, stocking, and keeping watch over current patients. The simple things. Maybe that was part of why she didn’t feel like herself anymore. She used to hold her own but now she was the runt of the pack. It wasn’t a fun feeling. Her work was important, she understood that. She knew that there were no small parts and that things could go wrong if she didn’t take her work seriously. It was just that Billie missed having fun. There was nothing fun about the world of blood and trauma.

Billie looked back at the dance floor. June was still in the arms of her fella, but Barbara was missing. Billie looked around and after a moment found Barbara by the edge of the dance floor practically directly across from her. It looked like she was convincing Lieutenant James Douglass to dance with her. It was an argument the two had almost every time they went out. Routine said Douglass would give in and dance with Barbara but not after she promised a kiss. Billie wondered when they pair would finally commit to something real, this game they’d been playing for months was getting old. Still, a pang of jealousy shot through Billie’s core. She wasn’t looking for anything, wasn’t looking for anyone. But maybe if she was more like other girls it would be easier to distract herself on nights like this. Luckily for Billie it was rare anyone gave her second glance.

The couple to her right had started curling in on each other and Billie figured they were about five minutes away from full on going at it there in public. To give them some privacy Billie decided to get another drink. She knew she shouldn’t but what else was she supposed to do with herself? Besides, it was time to switch back from beer to something harder. If she was going to wallow she might as well be properly smashed to set the mood. She abandoned her seat and wormed her way through the crowd to the bar.

The only empty spot it seemed was over next to Major John Egan and Billie’s stomach flipped with nerves. Major Egan, or Bucky as she knew he preferred to be called, was a commanding presence. He reminded her of one of her old friends, Charles. Both were charismatic ladies men with a long string of scorned lovers. Both loud and rambunctious, loving to be in the center of attention. Total showoffs. But both also had the skills to match their bravado so Billie was never too bothered by the inevitable antics that followed them around. Her need for a drink pushed her forward to slide into the empty space, pushing through her nerves of embarrassing herself in front of Bucky. Luckily as soon as the thought popped into her head she dismissed it. Even if she did something silly chances were he wasn’t going to remember. And if she kept up her drinking pace she wouldn’t remember either. A win win scenario.

“What’ll you have, ma’am?” The bartender asked.

“Two whiskeys, please. Thanks” She drummed her fingers along the counter while she waited for her drinks. As soon as the bartender set the drinks down in front of her Billie grabbed one and slammed the it back in one go.

Billie reveled in the way it burned down through her throat. It was nice to feel something. Her brother had been the one to introduce her to whiskey, way back when they were kids. He’d busted into their uncle’s stash and they managed to finish the bottle by the time they’d been caught back behind the horse stalls. Eddie swore they wouldn’t have gotten caught had Billie not gotten sick, startling one of the horses and waking up the lot of them. Their mother had been furious and took no mercy out on them by still making them go to practice bright and early the next morning. The painful practice was worth the memory now that Billie was swallowing her whiskey. The burn hadn’t gotten better over all these years which was something she was grateful for now. She needed it to still feel the same. Billie let out a cough and sucked back a hiss. It’d be a good idea go take it a bit slower with the second glass, just to be safe. She coughed again.

“You going to be okay there, little lady?” Bucky had turned to look at her.

“I’m fine.” she smiled reassuringly up at him. “Went down the wrong pipe is all.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Bucky nodded and turned back to face the back of the bar.

Billie leaned her elbows against the counter and pulled her glass closer to her. She took a sip and set it back down on the counter, taking the napkin from underneath with her free hand. Her fingers needed something to mess with. She was starting to feel a bit too much of everything. All around her people were living it up. They were dancing, laughing, smoking and drinking and whatever other vice they needed to stay sane. She wished she could be one of them.

Now that she started thinking about her brother she couldn’t stop. So much for the party being a distraction from the letter she’d gotten that afternoon. Barbara and June had sworn the festivities would take her mind off of it but here she was. Realistically she wasn’t all that surprised that Eddie had signed up. What did hurt was that he waited this long to tell her. He was already in training to be a paratrooper, there was nothing she could do to talk him out of it. Billie couldn’t help but laugh to herself thinking about how he really was always copying her. It had been hard to leave him when she practically ran away from home, one of the hardest things she had ever done. There were some moments when she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She should have known that he would want to follow in her footsteps. A mix of emotions filled her when she thought about her brother. She was so proud of him she felt like she could combust and yet she didn’t think she had ever been as scared as she was thinking about him in the thick of it. Billie grimaced to herself and looked down at where she’d been ripping the napkin into little strips. Dye making it to twenty five missions was an incredible thing, Billie really was happy for him. It was just awful that they were there making such a big deal of the one success out of the hundreds they’ve lost. She thought of her brother’s odds and her stomach turned, bile rising up her throat. She coughed again and took another sip of her whiskey to chase the bile down.

Billie’s little spiral was interrupted by Bucky saying out of nowhere, “I’d kill for something to happen.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Billie looked around to see if Bucky was really talking to her. She couldn’t remember who she saw on his other side, so maybe the comment was directed at them. Either that or talking to himself she assumed and turned her attention on her whiskey. She decided if the bartender was quick to come back around she’d order another one. Just one more and then she’d switch to water. After all she did have her normal shift first thing tomorrow morning.

“When was the last time something happened, hmm? When was the last time you could feel something?” Bucky was looking at Billie when she lifted her head and she couldn’t help but blush a little when they made eye contact. But Bucky’s face looked off somehow and Billie felt herself sober up a little.

“Major? Do you…” she looked around, nervous for some reason. She really didn’t know what to make of his questions. Her training hadn’t covered this sort of thing. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy, just peachy.” Bucky turned to fully look at her now and his eyes steadied on her face. He was probably just about as drunk as Billie was. He was probably chasing off some of the same demons Billie was running from.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shot her a look and she let out a laugh, “Silly question. Got it.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Billie. Billie James, Sir. I’m a nurse.”

Bucky nodded, “I thought I’d seen you somewhere.” She highly doubted he had ever looked at her before. No one ever really looked at her anymore. Still, she appreciated the politeness. He took a drink and sighed. He turned slightly towards the bar.

Something about how Bucky was looking unsettled Billie. She wanted to cheer him up, maybe helping him get out of himself would help her forget about her brother. What would she do if it was Charles here with her instead of Bucky? “Do you want me to go see if the band can play Blue Skies again?”

“Mighty fine of you to ask, but no need for any special requests.” Bucky took a deep drink.

She hummed in acceptance even though his answer worried her. It got quiet between them and Billie felt so uncomfortable she swore she was going to burn with it. It was her turn to take a deep drink.

“I’ve always wanted to juggle.” Bucky suddenly said.

“Excuse me?” Billie was drunk, but not drunk enough to follow along with Bucky’s train of thought. He pointed at the counter in front of her. Billie had been rolling the ripped up scraps of her drink’s napkin into little balls. She picked one up and threw it at Bucky. He swatted it away.

“I know I’m saying nonsense, can’t help it right now. I’ve seemed to have lost all filter.” Bucky gave a weak version of his normal charming smile.

“I don’t think that’s quite true, Major. Somehow I think you’re one to never really let go of control.” She found herself rolling her eyes at him as if he really was her friend Charles. She leaned forward and craned her neck to see where the bartender was. Another drink wasn’t the smartest idea but Billie was in the mood for self destruction.

Thinking about Charles and juggling had her remembering the night Charles tried to teach her a new trick while they had been on the tail end of a bender. What a pair of drunk messes the two of them had been, the night had ended with a broken window and running away from the police. “You know, Major, I can juggle.” She blurted out.

“You can juggle?” The disbelief was palpable in Bucky’s voice. He sounded just like so many of the boys she knew back home. All men seemed the same when they were doubting her, probably sounded the same to any woman. Oh, she was going to love proving him wrong.

“Of course I can juggle. I wouldn’t just lie to you when you’re looking like that.” Billie snapped, taking a tone she knew in the back of her head she shouldn’t have with someone of his status. Maybe she shouldn’t be acting like he was Charles. But Billie was too far in it to stop now.

“Looking like what?” he challenged. Already he seemed livelier.

“Like some sad little kid who needs cheering up.” Billie said simply with a smile.

“And what would you suggest? Are you offering to try to juggle for me?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

“I won’t have to try, I can do it if I want to.” confidence filled Billie’s voice.

Bucky laughed and tilted his head to look at Billie. “You really think you can juggle?”

“I don’t think, I know.” She wagged a finger in his face. “And I don’t like the attitude you’re taking, Major.” She really shouldn’t be talking to him like this but they were talking about juggling and she couldn’t help but get caught up in it. She had to defend her honor. “This is just one of the countless things you men think women can’t handle.”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort!”

“Sure,” Billie rolled her eyes, “but you were thinking it, weren’t you?” She nudged his arm with hers. “Just teasing. Now, I’ll need a lot of something if I’m going to do it. I mean, if its worth doing it’s worth doing right.”

“Is that so? And doing it right means juggling more balls?” Bucky waggled his eyebrows at her.

Billie smacked his arm, rolling her eyes with a groan. “Christ, Major, grow up.” she shook her head. Billie then straightened her shoulders and said, “It doesn’t have to be balls, I can juggle anything.”

“Anything is a strong claim.” There was even more doubt now in Bucky’s eyes.

“And guess what? It’s true.” Billie countered.

“Well now you have to prove it, because I just can’t seem to wrap my head around this. Pretty thing like you doing something like that.” Bucky shook his head in disbelief.

“What do my looks have to do with being able to juggle?” Billie cocked her head to the side. Then she realized that Bucky had paid her a compliment and she couldn’t help but blush. Luckily at this point of being drunk Billie’s face was normally red enough to cover her blush. This was the first time she was thankful for her drunk tell. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the receiving end of any advance from Bucky, but it was nice to hear someone thought she was pretty. Even if they were insulting and complimenting her at the same time.

“You just don’t seem like the type of gal who’d be able to is all.” Bucky explained simply while Billie rolled her eyes again.

“I feel insulted but I’m going to move past it.” She finished off her drink and couldn’t help but wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Maybe it made her look more like someone who knew how to juggle. “Let’s settle on what I’m juggling first off.” Billie looked around the room.

There were so many things happening around her that Billie couldn’t help but feel comforted. She’d grown up somewhere like this, always loud and full of people letting loose. She was at home in the chaos, especially now that there’d been a challenge. She had her pride to protect, her honor to uphold.

She was eyeing the group playing darts when Bucky said, “Glasses, easy.”

Billie turned her head to look at Bucky holding up her empty rocks glass. Better that than his empty pint glass. He gestured his head at the other empty glasses bunched up in front of them on the bar. Glasses, now that was an idea. Billie picked up her glass back up and gave it a light toss. Not as bottom heavy as she thought.

She smiled up at Bucky. “Glasses are perfect. I need some sort of rag, though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want your backwash to make me lose my grip is why.” Billie scrunched her nose in disgust.

Bucky let out a bright laugh. “Fair enough. How about clean glasses?”

“Either works.” Billie shrugged nonplussed.

“How many?”

Billie studied the glass in her hand.”How about four. Do you think I can handle four?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in a smirk.

“That feels like a trick question.” Billie flashed a wicked grin in response and Bucky laughed. “Okay, you’re going to juggle four glasses. Now how about we settle some stakes and make a real bet out of this whole thing. Personally, I wouldn’t mind a kiss.” He leaned in closer to Billie.

Billie had been expecting that and rolled her eyes with a smile. “When do you not want a kiss from someone? And I don’t want anything from you. Just to prove you wrong.”

“You wound me!” he playfully slapped his hand to his chest. “Come on, there must be something a pretty gal like you would want from someone like me.” He leaned an arm out to rest on the bar countertop. Billie felt herself grow hot under his stare. She suddenly understood the long line of heartbroken girls she’d watched over the last couple of months. Something about Bucky was mesmerizing. She couldn’t help but think about how easy he’d be to love.

“A pack of smokes.” She blurted out and the look of confusion that crossed Bucky’s face made her smirk. He hadn’t been expecting his subtle advance to be turned down.

“That’s a hefty ask.”

“Then you shouldn’t make silly bets.”

“Alright I’ll bite. You’re on, Billie. And now it’s too late to back out of a kiss when I win.” He winked at Billie then stood up from the bar counter. “Gather round now boys, our very own nurse Billie is going to put on a little show.” Bucky called out over the music.

“Major!” Billie snapped and lightly smacked Bucky’s arm.

She hadn’t wanted to draw that much attention to herself but after thinking about it for a moment she shrugged it off. She’d handled worse tricks in worse states. Had she really expected Bucky to keep it a quiet ordeal? There was nothing that man could do quiet. Already eyes were on her, wondering what on earth she could do to entertain them. She started to feel hot, the skin on the back of her neck itching where it rubbed against her jacket. She needed to cool down and get out of her jacket even if just for a minute. She straightened herself up from leaning against the bar.

“I’m going to get myself sorted then I’ll be over to prove you wrong, okay?” she gestured her head to the bathroom.

“We’ll see about that.” Bucky grinned at her as he gave her a nod.

By some miracle the bathroom was empty when Billie entered. Immediately she took off her jacket and began to fan herself. She needed to cool down. Billie looked at herself in the mirror and was suddenly struck by trying to picture herself from an outsider’s perspective. Small, red faced, long mousy brown hair that was starting to escape the sculpted curls the girls had worked so hard on. Barbara was going to be so sad her work was for naught. Billie itched to tie it all back but she didn’t have anything with her. But really all she could focus on was her arms. She raised her arms and flexed. There was no denying it: she was losing her muscles and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

After a lifetime of hard work she’d gone soft. Her father’s voice came into her head lamenting about how long it would take her to bounce back once she returned from the war. If she bounced back at all. It had been so long since she properly worked out. Maybe she could talk to Mae about helping her do any heavy lifting on one of her shift next time one lined up with Billie’s off time. The mechanic was always grateful for the help especially if it meant they could trade stories about growing up in the entertainment industry while they worked. Billie sobered up a bit thinking about the last time she’d fallen asleep body aching after helping Mae. She didn’t think it was possible to miss that horrible feeling of muscle exhaustion. She rotated her wrists a couple of times trying to stretch them out. She flexed her fingers. Next were her arms, first across then over her shoulder. She jumped in place a couple of times wishing she wasn’t in uniform. All she needed to do was focus.

Billie washed her hands and then briefly pressed her wet hands to her face, trying to cool herself down. It worked, or at least she told herself it did, and then her hands went to her hair. There was nothing she could do to bring order back to her hair but at least now she could tell herself she tried. Billie grabbed her jacket to put back on while staring herself down in the mirror. She could do this. It’d been a long time since she’d juggled but she knew the muscle memory would kick in. It had to after all the time she’d spent practicing as a kid. If she made a fool of herself and her dad found out he was sure to take a swing at her. He trained her better than to fail at something so simple. She shook her head to clear the thought and stretched her shoulders back while taking in a deep breath. She exhaled and made eye contact with her reflection again. Billie knew she could do this, she could prove Bucky wrong.

The door to the bathroom burst open and Barbara came barreling through. Billie was surprised it had taken this long for her best friend to find her. “What’s this I hear about Bucky challenging you to juggle? Do you really know how to juggle?”

“Of course I can juggle,” Billie popped her hip to the side and put her hands on her waist. Striking a pose she said dramatically, “it’s in my blood.”

Barbara had come over to stand next to Billie and began touching herself up, pulling a tube of lipstick out from her pocket. “Of course it’s in your blood, you carny. I forget all of the silly things you know how to do because you’re so normal.”

The comment stung but Billie knew better than to make anything of it. She knew Barbara meant well.

“Well I don’t think it’ll be that hard.” Billie flicked her hair back over her shoulder and squared her shoulders. “It’s only four glasses.”

“Four? The major is telling people five.”

Billie thought about it for a moment, “I guess at a point it just becomes a number.” She marched to the door but paused before pulling it open, her hand on the handle. “Am I about to make a fool of myself?”

Barbara shrugged. “Possibly. But not until after you impress people a little, which I know you’re going to do.” She met Billie’s eyes in the mirror. “You always do this.” Barbara finished touching up her hair and stepped back to take in more of her reflection.

“Do what?” Billie dropped her hand from the door handle.

“Pull out these ridiculous things to be good at that make everyone ooh and aww. Its unfair honestly, the fact that you’re not a miserable bitch. It would make dealing with you so much easier.” Barbara said.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that.” Billie couldn’t help but grimace.

Barbara laughed. “It was supposed to be a compliment. I was trying to say you’re nice and good at things not a lot of people are good at which is fun. I like being your friend.”

Billie swooned and pulled Barbara in for a hug. “I like being your friend too. You’re the only one who doesn’t give me grief about being a miserable nurse.”

“Oh I give you grief too, only difference is you realize I’m joking around. Besides you can’t be good at everything so who cares if you’re not the best nurse on base. Now lets go show up Major Egan with your circus skills”

When the pair came out of the bathroom Billie realized that Bucky had drawn a small crowd in the back corner of the room. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she let out a couple of deep breaths and closed her eyes. And just like that she felt more at home than she had in months. She never would have guessed this would do the trick.

“Are you okay?” Barbara was at her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She had no choice but to be fine. Her personal and family pride was on the line.

A feeling started making itself known deep in Billie, something she hadn’t felt for a long while. It was serious now that the pre-show jitters were kicking in. A laugh threatened to bubble up out of Billie and she had to clench her jaw to keep the sound in. All of these thousands of miles away from home and here she was pulling the same tricks. Billie never thought she’d be doing this here, that any of her circus skills could come in handy in the real world. The whiskey was softening the worst of her nerves so Billie didn’t waver as she marched forward and pushed her way through the crowd.

“There she is!” Bucky was sitting at a table with five empty rocks glasses next to him.

“Do we need to revise the stakes, Major? You’re not trying to change the bet on me are you?” She grabbed a glass off the table and tried her best to ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her. It would go away, the prickling feeling as they stared her down. It always went away she just had to push through the tension. At least here she was fully clothed and her feet were steady on solid ground. Far steadier than all of the drinks she had would suggest.

“A number is a number, really.” Bucky reasoned. “What’s one extra? Plus five has a better ring to it wouldn’t you say?”

Billie laughed at that, “I suppose you’re right, Major.”

“Are you going to turn around so we can watch?” A voice called out from behind her. Lieutenant Douglass if she was to guess, it sounded like his sort of snark. It also sounded like someone had elbowed him in the side. She smiled thinking it was probably Barbara.

Billie turned on her heels and dipped into a deep curtsy towards the people gathered around her. Already she was back into performing. “Give us just a moment, gentlemen. We’re settling up accounts here. The show’ll begin in just a tick.” She turned back around to face Bucky. “So here’s how this is going to work. I can’t do this by myself so you’re going to have to help me. You’re going to need to throw me the last two glasses.”

“You want me to throw you a glass while juggling? Twice? You trust me to do that?”

“You started this whole thing, might as well get involved.” Billie said. “Besides, there’s a better chance at avoiding disaster this way than if I started with all five on my own. I’m not doing that with things I’ve never juggled before.”

Bucky’s face was twisted in concentration. Billie wondered if he was going to call the whole thing off. If he tried she was going to suggest she juggle just three glasses instead. She wasn’t leaving until she at least somewhat proved her talents. Billie wanted to see if she could make Bucky smile.

She tossed the glass in her hand again, higher this time. “I suppose there is a danger aspect, I will give you that. But remember, I’m a nurse if anything goes wrong.”

Bucky chuckled. “Rumor is—”

“Fine.” Billie raised her hand to cut him off. “I’m not the only nurse here tonight. Come on, you’re not flying tomorrow so you’ll have some time to heal before you have to go up again. We can push the table out of the way and I’ll stand in the corner so you won’t be throwing in the direction of everyone.”

“You could still get hurt.”

Billie hadn’t been expecting this change of heart. The was definitely something up with Bucky, normally he was all about encouraging the reckless behavior. The one leading the charge. He wasn’t usually the one giving the waring speeches. Something had to be wrong.

Billie waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve dealt with worse, trust me. Plus, I know how to handle myself when something goes wrong. This isn’t my first rodeo, Major.” She knew she shouldn’t push but she couldn’t help but add, “Come on, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. That’s not like you. Scared I’m going to prove you wrong? Why not live a little?” She couldn’t help but think about how she used to tease her brother and she poked Bucky in the shoulder as if he was Eddie.

Bucky shook his head but then stood up. He didn’t respond to Billie instead calling, “Hey, Buck! Come help me move this table.”

Billie grabbed a second glass from the table and then stepped out of the way while the two moved the table. She heard Buck grumbling something about how this was a bad idea but Billie decided to ignore him. Her drunk logic and seeing Bucky’s clearly fake smile had her coming around to thinking this was an excellent idea. So Billie turned to face the crowd smiling wide.

“Now is everyone ready for a show? Has anyone else placed any bets on me tonight?” She held the three glasses in one hand and lifted the other to her ear, waiting for someone’s answer.

“It’d be rude to say, ma’am” called out Captain Everett Blakely.

“It’d be rude to not split the winnings!” Billie countered with a wink.

“You’re really going to do it?” Douglass asked.

“We’ll see. Depends on if Major Egan can handle the pass.”

“Oh I’ll make it just fine just you watch.” Bucky said. “Now where do you want me.”

Billie glanced around at the space. She gestured to most of it, “I’m probably going to end up traveling a bit, so just stay on the edge of the circle somewhere. I’ll tell you when I’m ready. I can handle most passes just try not to go too high or too low.”

“Will it be obvious what’s too high or low?” He looked nervous again. It unsettled her.

“Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything. It’ll all be fine and you’ll be down a pack of smokes in just a couple of minutes.” that made him laugh and Billie smiled. Success. But she could do better.

Billie made her way to the center of the space Buck and Bucky had cleared. She let herself picture dropping a glass in the first round, in the second. Before she even needed Bucky to throw her one. What was really the worst that could happen? What happened here didn’t need to come home with her, she reasoned with herself. Realistically she could just not tell anyone about what happened. Her dad didn’t have to know. She could suffer through the embarrassment during the war, there were beyond worse crosses to bear. It was going to be fine. Billie took a deep breath then smiled. Showtime.

Just like Billie thought and hoped, her muscle memory took over as soon as she threw the first glass into the air. She heard gasps around her as she started getting into the feel of it and she smiled wider in response. Bucky wasn’t the only one who had doubted Billie could juggle. It always felt good to take people by surprise so maybe it was good she barely told anyone about her circus life. They didn’t have enough good surprises there on base. She kept her eyes trained on the glasses but it was hard to bite back the laugh at the men’s reaction. This was nothing. If only she had her balls with her, then she’d really be able to put on a show for them.

It felt so nice to slip back into the rhythm of juggling that Billie didn’t even mind her arms were starting to burn. She couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. The adrenaline coursing through her was like she was back under the big top. Christ, she has missed this. She had no idea she would have missed this that much. After a minute or so Billie felt comfortable enough for the next glass.

“Alright, Major. You ready?” Billie called out, eyes not leaving the glasses going round and round.

“When you are.” Bucky answered.

Billie moved so that she was facing Bucky. “Hit me.”

“Now I don’t think—”

“You know what I mean. Stop being a smartass.” Laughter came from the crowd.

“Here you go.” Bucky tossed the glass perfectly and Billie added it to her rotation with ease.

Her arms were really burning but she didn’t mind, not with how they were clapping for her. This was one of her favorite feelings in the world, or as close as she could get without being near a trapeze swing. The reactions from an audience tended to be food for a performer’s soul and Billie had long been starving. Out of her whole circus family Billie was the only one not motivated by those reactions. Still, she could get hungry. There was something inherent in her, something deep that made her come alive when she performed. Barbara was right, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t the best nurse at Thorpe Abbotts because there were other things she could do. Wasn’t job supposed to be helping the airmen? She spared a glance at Bucky and was thrilled to see a genuine smile stretched across his face. It seemed he’d done a complete 180 degree turn from earlier in the evening. It was such a gift to be able to affect someone’s mood like that. This was why she loved what she could do.

“I would like to state for the record that I did win the original bet.” Billie called out.

“Does that mean you want to quit?” Bucky challenged.

“Not a chance, Major. Not a chance.” Billie quipped.

“Eyes up then.” Bucky said.

It was only her years of training that saved Billie from disaster when Bucky threw tossed the final glass at her. She nearly stumbled but quickly got her footing steady. “I didn’t tell you I was ready for that!” she called out, beyond annoyed. That could have gone seriously wrong and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin the mood of the party.

“Seems like you handled it just fine.” Bucky dismissed Billie’s frustration and gave a clap as he watched her successfully juggle the five glasses. He really was back to his normal self.

Billie gave into another laugh but then suddenly sobered. She hadn’t been thinking this through at all. She’d never juggled glasses like this before, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to catch them all without breaking anything.

“Now this is the part I didn’t think all the way through.” Billie sheepishly admitted.

“How you’re going to stop? I’ve been wondering that since the beginning.” Bucky was standing with his arms crossed. He had a smug look on his face that annoyed Billie but she’d rather this than his pathetic state from earlier.

“We might have some casualties I’m afraid.” She mused and went quiet for a few moments. She was staring at the glasses as she threw them around. Maybe if she utilized some bad form she’d be able to toss the glasses forward. With her mind made up she said, “Okay, we’re going to do a reverse of what we just did. You’ll have to get closer but I’ll toss them back to you.”

“So I’m involved again?” Bucky groaned in an over the top way that was more in line with his usual behavior.

“You’re the one who started it.” Billie teased back.

Someone pushed through the crowd, Billie couldn’t tell, and stepped through into the clearing. It was Crosby holding a cushion from one of the chairs in the back corner. “Would this help?” He asked.

“Excellent foresight, Croz.” Bucky clapped Crosby on the back and took the cushion from him and dropped it on the ground in front of him. “Now if I drop it it’ll still have a hope for survival.”

Billie’s arms were on fire. She really needed to speed things along. “We ready over there, gentlemen?”

“When you are.” Bucky answered.

“First one coming through.” Billie called and as one of the glasses came into her right hand she twisted her wrist in a way she was trained to never do. The glass went out instead of up and Bucky caught it with ease.

Billie was elated, she couldn’t believe this was going so well. She tossed a second, and then third glass to Bucky that he beautifully caught. Billie didn’t know why he’d been worried. She was left with a glass in each hand blushing as she faced the crowd. She had been on base with these men for months but this was the first time it felt like any of them were realizing she was a real person. It was electrifying. She gave a dramatic deep curtsy and once she was back standing straight she had people around her. It seemed no one had expected her to pull off such a trick, that no one thought much of her before this. They meant well, Billie knew that. But for some reason the comments stung a little.

After Billie was done working her way through a small group of admirers Barbara slid up to Billie’s side. “I can only imagine what they’d be saying if they saw your flying costume. Probably have to fight your way through a lot more them.”

Billie elbowed Barbara. “Leave the costume out of it. I can’t believe I showed you that picture.”

“Why would you bring it with you if you didn’t want someone to see it?”

“Look, who cares about the picture of me and my friend. Tell me honestly,” She set the glasses down on the table and then grabbed Barbara’s hands. She was embarrassed but had to ask, “How did I look up there?”

“You’re an absolute ace and you know it, don’t go begging for compliments.” Barbara squeezed Billie’s hands and smiled. “But you looked lovely. More alive than I’ve seen in a while. You looked like you were having a lot of fun. Were you?”

“I did, yeah.” Billie answered. She looked at the glasses on the table, smiling to herself. She reached out and picked them back up. “It was fun to get back into it. More than I thought it would be.”

“I still can’t believe you can juggle.” Barbara shook her head with a smile. She brought her pint glass up and sipped bit of the beer head. “You’re the darnedest thing.”

“You make it seem like I did this crazy thing when all I did was throw some stuff around.” Billie admonished.

“Well it’s certainly not something that a lot of people can do, especially with how much you’ve had to drink. And I think that’s worth celebrating!” Barbara lifted her glass in the air then brought it down and took a big gulp. She let out a content sigh and asked, “Did you see what happened between June and her new replacement? When we got here?”

“I saw them dancing for a while, but that’s it.” Billie answered.

Barbara started in on her story and Billie tried her best to pay attention to the latest updates on her friend’s love life. But the glasses were warm now in her hands and she kept turning them over and over. It had always been soothing to Billie to have something in her hands to play with. Part of the reason why she took to juggling so well. Her arms weren’t burning anymore. Instead there was an ache, the kind Billie couldn’t help but love. She thought her arms could handle going again now that she was warmed up. Still listening to Barbara she took a couple steps away from her friend and started tossing the two glasses around. Two didn’t require as much focus so Billie was able to pay attention to Barbara’s gossip while keeping her eyes on the glasses she was juggling.

Barbara made a crude joke and Billie took her eyes off the glasses as she turned her head slightly, laughing and ready to say something in response. Only Barbara had stepped to the side to say something to Douglass. She’d turned her back enough so Billie got a clear look through the crowd and straight to the bar. There was a man standing facing her. Looking directly at her. Billie couldn’t help but gasp a little.

He had curls, a mustache, and looked to be about a little less than a head taller than her. Never in Billie’s life had she been so struck by someone. The eye contact had a grip around her throat. She was buzzing. He didn’t look away and neither did Billie, a challenge of sorts. She was struck with a feeling of familiarity and wanted to rush towards him, pull him close to her and never let go. Her face started heating up, her pale skin betraying her emotions as always. She felt foolish but he looked like he would give the best hug, the kind that felt like home and made you forget all that was happening around you. Billie was struck with the realization that as deeply as she was looking at him, he was looking right back at her with the same intensity. Finally someone was seeing her; they were seeing each other. He gave her a smile and she felt herself returning the gesture. He had a beautiful smile. She wanted to see what it looked like up close. Billie felt like she was flying through the air without the safety net, her stomach all out of sorts. Suddenly she was reminded of what she must look like; red faced, messy hair, with a disheveled uniform. Hardly presentable or anything worth looking at.

Her heart collapsed through her stomach and she wrenched her eyes away from the man just as Barbara reached out to touch Billie’s arm to get her attention. She knew it was going to happen before it did, but Billie lost her grip and one of the glasses slipped through her fingers. It crashed around her, causing a brief wave of silence as people turned to see what happened. Billie’s knew her face must look like a tomato so she immediately dropped to a crouch to hide her face and looked at the damage up close.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Barbara wailed from somewhere over Billie. “I distracted you, this is all my fault!” She joined Billie on the floor and reached out as if to start scooping up the glass with her bare hands. She paused and then looked up at Billie. “I’m going to go find a broom and dustpan.” she said and then ran off into the crowd.

Billie kicked at the big pieces of glass trying to move what she could. Then she did what Barbara wouldn’t and started picking at the glass with her hands.

“How is it that you can handle juggling five but two is what takes you out?” She heard Bucky behind her and she smiled to herself. Of course he saw her mess up.

“We all have our things, sir.” She said still facing the ground.

“Here, to make it easier.” Billie looked up to see him handing her a beer. “Wasn’t sure what you liked so if you hate it at least I tried.” Bucky said with a shrug.

“I appreciate the attempt.” Billie smiled. She stood up to take the beer but set it on the table instead of taking a drink.

“I’ll find you tomorrow to get you your smokes.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Billie waved him off. “I was messing around. I don’t even smoke.”

“What were you going to do with them?”

“Use them as bribes to have people forgive me for inevitably doing something wrong.” The strategy hadn’t worked yet but she wasn’t going to give up her attempts now.

“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Bucky reasoned.

“Well I’ve never had to give you an IV before so maybe hold your judgement until I get you under my care.” Billie joked.

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Bucky asked.

“Maybe it is.” Billie shrugged and gave Bucky a playful light punch on the arm.

Billie heard Barbara before she saw her. “I have a broom, dustpan, and some rags. Lets get this cleaned up.”

At that Bucky have a nod to the girls and said, “I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for the show, Billie”

Billie ducked her head in a slight bow, “Always happy to play my part, Major.” She watched him walk away for a moment before she turned to help Barbara. They were making quick work of it until Billie, in the middle of telling a story, grabbed a shard of glass without thinking and sliced her hand open. She hissed as her palm throbbed.

“Now that doesn’t look too good.” Douglas had made his way over to stand above the pair on the ground.

“Really, James? She hadn’t realized.” Barbara snapped. Douglass raised his hands in the air and took a couple of steps back.

“Geez, sorry I said anything.” He turned and left the two on the ground.

Billie thought that was a bit harsh. She wondered if something had happened and maybe Douglass wasn’t going to get his normal kiss goodnight.

She reassured Barbara, “I don’t think it’s that bad.” Barbara gave her a look and Billie cut her off before she could say anything Billie continued, “But I want to get it looked at before I go to bed.” She grabbed one of the unused rags and pressed it against the cut, soaking up the blood. It stung but Billie didn’t let the discomfort show on her face. “Do you know who is on shift tonight?”

Barbara nodded in approval of Billie’s statement and answered, “I think it’s Lucy. I hope it’s Lucy. For your sake I hope it’s anyone but Rebecca.”

Billie groaned at the thought. Knowing her luck the nurse who seemed the most vexed with her would be working that night. She’d be mortified if she had to get stitches from Rebecca.

“Let’s pray it’s Lucy.” Billie said with a weak smile.

“She won’t give you any grief then, that’s for sure. Do you want to go outside and get some air while I finish cleaning this up? I’ll walk with you to the hospital.” Barbara was sweet to offer.

“Are you sure you’re okay finishing cleaning this up?”

Barbara nodded. “It was my fault anyways. Go on, I won’t be here much longer. Go catch your breath.” she used her hands to shoo Billie away from the mess of glass.

Billie hovered for a second but then turned to make her way outside. It was easy to weave her way through the crowd, a type of dance in itself. Just before she got to the door Billie turned to look over her shoulder at the bar where the man had been standing. He was still there, but his back was partially to the door. She could see him in profile and even that was striking. Billie’s breath caught. He seemed to be listening to his friend talk but Billie focused in on the man’s hands. One was holding a drink the other was down by his side snapping along with the music. Billie smiled to herself charmed by how in tune the man was with the music. She somehow knew that he was just moments away from starting to dance along instead of letting his fingers do all the work. Billie turned before he could start and walked out the door.

______________________________________________________________

The base was quiet, depressingly quiet. The air was thick with the missing presences of all the lives lost in that day’s mission to Munster. Billie hadn’t seen anything like it in her time there at Thorpe Abbotts. No one had seen such a day. Only one fort had come back, piloted by someone named Robert Rosenthal. Rosie she thought she heard the nickname was. Billie wondered how that pilot must be feeling, what all of those surviving airmen were feeling.

Billie was heading to the hospital. She needed to re-bandage her hand and figured she’d get a head start on the inventory counts so her shift would be easier tomorrow.

Lucy, one of the normal night shift nurses, greeted her when she came through the doors. “Billie! Don’t tell me you—”

“No, I didn’t rip out the stitches. I just need you to wrap it back up so I don’t waste all your hard work.”

“How’d it come undone?”

Billie shrugged. “You know, life.”

Lucy shook her head. She wasn’t all that surprised that Billie hadn’t been careful or able to stay still enough to keep the bandage on her hand. There were times when Lucy thought Billie was just as bad as some of the kids that were always running around.

Lucy was studying Billie’s hand when they heard someone come through the door. The pair looked up and Billie’s stomach dropped. The ground seemed to fall from beneath her. It was him, the man from the officer’s club. She had assumed he was one of the many that were lost. Billie didn’t think that she would ever see him again and she’d been having an embarrassingly hard time accepting that. He didn’t look in their direction, just walked over to the man in the very last bed on the right who was already speaking to him as he sat down. His back was to the nurses, something that Billie was beyond thankful for.

“That’s Rosie.” Lucy whispered.

“Who?”

“Rosie Rosenthal. He was the only one to come back.”

This was Rosie? Billie’s heart flipped and then tightened. Of course he would be a pilot. She pulled her hand away from Lucy.

“Who’s he with?” Billie asked.

“His navigator, I think. Lieutenant Bailey.”

“What happened to him?”

“A couple of nasty cuts on his face, we’re keeping him here overnight to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Do you think he has a concussion?”

“Not at all. He hasn’t shown any of the signs but I think they’re just trying to be extra careful.”

“Makes sense.” Billie said.

Lucy made quick work of bandaging Billie’s hand and when she was finished Billie found her clipboard and started making her counts. Billie kept stealing looks at Rosie’s back. She couldn’t look away. It was almost impossible to focus when he was right there. At any point he could turn around and he’d see her, and at that thought Billie realized that she didn’t want him to see her. He turned his face slightly and Billie caught a look of his profile. Thing was, Billie was attracted to competence. She was drawn to those who were skilled, those who knew exactly what they were doing. To her there was nothing more attractive than a man who could handle himself. Billie wished she could be more like her old self. There was a version of her that would have no problem walking right up to him. It would be so easy to slip herself into his orbit. But she wasn’t that version anymore. She’d become so timid.

Billie eventually lost herself in her counts and by the time she called it quits Rosie was gone. The next morning Billie was tasked with checking on Rosie’s navigator, Lieutenant Bailey. She felt like she could throw up she was so nervous but she pushed through and plastered a smile on her face.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Oh, please. Call me Billie. I can’t stand being called ma’am.”

Bailey laughed. “Alright, Billie it is then. You here to let me out?”

Billie nodded. “I just have to clean and bandage some of these face scrapes and then you’ll be good to go.”

“Hey,” Bailey was studying Billie. “Did you juggle the other night at the party for Dye?”

Billie blushed. Was this how she was going to be known now? “I did, yeah.”

“I thought that was you! How did you learn how to do that?”

“I grew up in the circus.” Billie said simply.

“Wow, a real circus girl. The only time I went to the circus was back when I was in high school. It was an incredible show.”

“Oh yeah? What was your favorite part?”

“Anything they did up in the air. I liked all of the flips.”

“An airmen who likes daring feats in the air, how predictable.” Billie teased. She didn’t say anything about how she’d been one of those doing flips in the air. Men tended to think of her only one way when they found out what she used to wear, how much skin she used to show. She loved her version of flying but it had it’s downsides. Continuing the small talk she asked, “Where are you from, Lieutenant.”

“New York City. Well, Long Island technically”

“Oh I love New York City. I haven’t been there in years.” She paused what she was doing to really think about it. “Maybe ’37 or ’38?” she thought a couple moments longer.

“I saw the circus in the summer of ’37.” Bailey commented.

“It was ’37!” Billie snapped her fingers. “Summer of 1937. Because Charles and I snuck in to go see A Day at the Races. We were there on Long Island too.”

“That’s around when I saw the circus! Maybe I saw yours.”

“Maybe.” It was surreal for Billie to think of that possibility.

“Wait, so you snuck into the movies?” Bailey asked.

Billie resumed her work, answering, “Well it wasn’t really sneaking. We exchanged circus tickets for movie tickets.”

“A fair switch. How’d you pull that off?”

“We caught some kids trying to sneak through the back the day before and instead of throwing them out my friend asked if there was anything they could do for us in exchange.”

“So this wasn’t the first time you’d pulled out the bartering.”

“Oh, not at all. Movies, plays, jazz clubs, baseball games, you name it and I’ve probably tried to exchange tickets for it.”

“You like jazz?”

“Sometimes I think it’s the only music that makes sense.” She set the excess bandages down and reached out to hold Bailey’s chin to keep his face still. She inspected her work. Thankfully she hadn’t messed up his simple patch job. “Alright, Lieutenant. I think you’re ready for discharge.”

Bailey practically jumped out of the bed and Billie laughed at his reaction.

______________________________________________________________

Billie hated to admit defeat but she had been defeated plain and simple. She had never not finished a book before but Moby Dick was where she drew the line. It was just so much, too complicated and heavy. She didn’t know what any of the words meant and even though she was managing to follow along with the plot it was possibly one of the most boring books she’d ever read. There were plenty of times Billie hated her lack of education and this was one of them. She wouldn’t be having such a hard time if she’d been able to go to school. For a couple of years her parents had put together an attempt at a homeschool for her and her brother and the rest of the circus kids but no real work had ever gotten done. She was jealous of all the girls who were still in school. Billie could only ever dream of going to college.

Rebecca had been in college before the war. Billie’s stomach turned thinking about Rebecca. The girl had it out for Billie, and now that she was thinking about it Billie’s lack of real education might have something to do with Rebecca’s attitude towards her. It was clear Rebecca didn’t think she had what it took to be a nurse and her lack of education was a contributing factor. If only their training instructor hadn’t made a comment in front of everyone then maybe Rebecca wouldn’t be so bad.

But Billie wasn’t thinking about Rebecca, not that day and not for the rest of the weekend. Rebecca had gotten approved for leave to London and Billie felt it was more a gift to her and the girls than it was to Rebecca. Now she’d be given a break from her most recent stress fantasy: a cruel dream where Rebecca and Rosie fall in love and flaunt it in Billie’s face. She knew Rebecca found Rosie attractive and that they’d danced at the officer’s club a couple nights ago. Billie knew it shouldn’t bother her. Everyone should find Rosie attractive, Billie reasoned with herself. There was no deny thing the truth. But there was this sense of possession that Billie could’t get rid of. She was ashamed of it but she felt like Rosie was hers. That eye contact had changed everything for Billie.

Her priorities had shifted. She found herself wanting to be someone that could be worthy of standing next to Rosie. He was just so good. Rosie had become a presence on the base, earning almost a mythical status after the disastrous Munster mission. Rosie was all anyone wanted to talk about which helped Billie collect scraps of information about the pilot, but it was also overwhelming. She felt silly having feelings over a man that plenty of the other women on base were praying would ask them to dance. She normally stayed away from the stars of the show, knowing that it was more fun to fool around with those in the background. A big ego wasn’t attractive to Billie, in fact it was practically an instant turn off. Luckily for her crush it didn’t seem like Rosie had an ego.

No, Rosie seemed to be the furthest thing from the typical Hollywood hotshot pilot. He was nothing like Majors Cleven and Egan had been. No one could fill the holes they had left but Rosie seemed to be standing steady on his own. He was turning out to be a popular guy in his own way making it easy for Billie to fall deeper into her feelings. She was embarrassed by how strongly she felt towards Rosie and she dreaded the inevitable day news of her crush got out. Barbara would have a fit when she found out and Billie wanted to hold that off as long as possible. It wasn’t worth letting anyone know if nothing had happened. She didn’t know what was going to happen but something in her told her that she couldn’t run away from Rosie forever.

So there Billie was going to the library in attempt to make up for the years of schooling she didn’t get. She could never compete with a college education like Rebecca’s but she could at least become as well read as the base library would allow. Billie was quietly humming to herself when she rounded the corner to walk through the propped open door to the library. Her voice died once she registered who was in the library and she stopped in her tracks.

Rosie was standing with his back to her. He was talking to the librarian about something or another, Billie was too startled to try and follow along. She glanced to her left and saw that no one else was in the room. Quickly and as quietly as she could she crossed the room while keeping her head down. Once she reached the corner she pulled down a book at random and studied the back cover.

All of Billie’s nerve endings seemed to be on fire. It was as if she was hyper aware of what was happening but it felt like it was happening to somebody not herself. She set the book down and grabbed another from a different shelf without looking. She flipped it open to a random page and pretended to read. It had been days since she’d seen Rosie but that had been from afar. This was the closest she’d been to him since the night in the hospital.

Rosie and the librarian were talking about baseball. Just as Billie was beginning to track the conversation it was ending and Rosie was saying goodbye. Rosie’s footsteps were loud as they went out the door and down the hallway. Still, Billie waited where she was and didn’t move. The tension only slipped from her body when she felt safe that Rosie was really gone.

“Billie! Sorry I didn’t say hello when you came in.” The librarian called to her from where he was looking over his records.

“Oh, it’s okay, Edward.” Billie reassured.

“How did you end up liking Moby Dick?” He asked.

“Oh it was miserable. I couldn’t finish it.” Billie let out a little laugh.

“That bad?” Edward’s eyebrows were furrowed, lips in a frown.

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint. I know you liked it.”

“No skin off my back,” He shrugged. “What are you looking for now?”

“I’m not quite sure.” She held up Frankenstein and Oliver Twist. “Have you read either of these?”

“If you didn’t like Moby Dick I’m not sure if you would like Oliver Twist. I think you’d better stick with Frankenstein.”

Billie hummed and set Oliver Twist back down. She flipped through Frankenstein, skimming a couple of passages. “Alright then. We’ll go with this.”

“You’re really going to take my recommendation even though you didn’t like my last?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance don’t you think? Well, mostly everyone. You sure do.” Billie said.

“I wish more people thought like you, Billie.”

“People do, just not military people. It’s a different world here.” Billie said.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Edward echoed his agreement.

______________________________________________________________

The sun was barely peaking through the surrounding trees when Billie finished her second lap around the airfield. She’d been on edge for a while now and running it seemed was one of the few things that settled her. For once she didn’t have the morning shift so she was able to get her run in before the base woke up. There was no mission that day so only a handful of other people around. Billie waved to them as she ran by, not stopping to talk to anyone. Her shirt was sticking to her back she was sweating so much. Her lungs were burning. But still she pushed herself to keep running. In a way she had missed this, which was why she kept at it. It felt good, felt familiar, to burn herself out.

“Hey, Billie!”

Billie slowed, looking around for the source of the voice. She vaguely recognized it but wasn’t sure who it was.

“At your 10:00” It was Mae, crouched underneath a plane. Billie jogged over and came to stop by Mae’s toolbox. She lifted her hands up and held them above her head as she tried to slow her breathing down.

“Good morning.” Billie said when she finally steadied her breath. “You’ve started early.”

“Tell me about it. Not all of us are used to your hours.” Mae slid out from under the plane and stood up. She stretched out her back and dropped her head to her chest. Mae let out a sigh. “It’s going to be such a long day.” She moaned, sounding close to tears.

“Is it?”

“It’s going to be awful. Not only am I starting before the crack of dawn but it’s not going to stop until probably—”

Billie felt bad for tuning Mae out, especially when she was trying to vent about her work which was something she really should be supporting her friend with, but she couldn’t help it. Billie had realized that Mae had been working on Rosie’s fort. The name was painted in a bright yellow script: Rosie’s Riveters. She loved it. She couldn’t focus on anything else.

Mae continued ranting while Billie circled the fort, stretching out while she did. She loved what the planes looked like up close, such terrifying mechanical beasts. They were these amazing powerful creatures that Billie couldn’t help but see as death traps. How could she not after seeing the boys when they come back? She wondered what it felt like to command such a hulking thing. She wondered not for the first time what it felt like to be a pilot, to have so much pressure on your shoulders. To have the lives of nine other men on your hands. One blessing about being the worst nurse base was that she barely had any responsibility. She had it so easy compared to the rest of them. Shame washed over her and she dropped her hand from where she’d been running it over the wing.

Billie finally tuned back into Mae’s drawl and gathered that the mechanic was going to have to look at a lot of planes that day. She decided to push things along. Plus for some reason she didn’t trust herself being around Rosie’s fort. It felt like such a personal extension of the man, she didn’t want to encroach. Besides she was already driving herself crazy thinking about Rosie she needed to give herself some distance.

Billie asked how much work she had left on Rosie’s plane and Mae answered that she had just finished up.

“I actually caught you at the perfect time. I’m going to get started on the one next door.” Mae gestured to the plane behind them. “Do you mind helping me carry some of this stuff over there?”

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Billie let out a laugh, grateful that she could be of use. “Besides you’re doing me a favor.”

“Of course I am, I’m not being lazy at all.” Mae laughed. “I guess how else are you going to stay balanced?” Mae joked. “You clearly got your legs in already so now you need to work out your arms.”

The pair made quick work of moving the equipment and Billie found herself settling down to keep talking to Mae while she began her work.

“Do you think you’ll go back to the airshows once this is all done?” Billie asked Mae.

Mae hummed, thinking it over. “I probably will, at least at first. My dad says they’re making do with the mechanic that replaced me but I think he said that so that I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You feel bad about leaving them?” She’d told Mae all about running away from the circus, how desperate she’d been to get out of there. But Mae didn’t have the same relationship with her family business as Billie had with hers.

“Constantly. But luckily they’re always reassuring me that they’re proud of me. They know I’m doing good work.”

“You’re doing great work, Mae.”

“Thanks, Billie.”

The pair went quiet but then Mae doubled back in the conversation to say, “But I don’t think I’ll stay for long when I go back.”

“Really?”

“I think this whole thing has ruined flying for me.” Mae sat back on her heels and let out a deep exhale. Billie knew what she was feeling, that bone deep exhaustion one got when thinking about how much blood they’d seen, all the lives they’d lost.

“What do you think you’ll do instead?”

“Absolutely no idea.” Mae went back to work.

They were in the middle of talking about the first time Mae’s sister had taken Mae up with her during one of the airshows when Billie noticed the shapes of two men walking toward them. She squinted, she couldn’t tell who it was.

Something in her stomach turned and she worried she knew what that feeling meant. It didn’t take much longer for her to recognize the men as Ken Lemmons and Rosie. They looked to be in deep discussion which Billie was grateful for. She slid down in her seat so she wouldn’t stand out as much amidst the parts. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she could throw up. Here she was avoiding Rosie again.

Barbara had started to joke that Billie was turning into a hermit but there was some truth to it. She’d been turning down more and more invitations to go out. She was keeping to herself. She was doing a lot of reading and knitting. She’d started a scarf when she first got to Thorpe Abbotts that she was finally giving it the attention it deserved. Knitting was easier than risking seeing Rosie. Billie couldn’t explain it in a way that didn’t make her feel like an idiot but she just couldn’t be around him. Her crush was too big; she didn’t trust herself. Billie had no experience with serious relationships since she’d only ever had casual flings. She wasn’t used to these sort of real feelings. Rosie was the real deal and she couldn’t mess that up. But of course she would because that’s what she did.

The two men were far enough away that Billie knew she was safe to ask, “What’s he doing out here?” It was a silly question, he probably had countless reasons to want to come and look at his plane. But it was early for pilots to be out when they weren’t flying.

“Who?” Mae lifted her head and looked around. She stood up a bit to get a better look.

Billie nodded in the direction of the two in deep discussion, coming closer and closer. Mae followed Billie’s direction. “Rosie?” Billie nodded. “He’s probably here to see the patch up on the left wing. They’re doing a practice run later today and I think he’s one of those who needs to get his hands on the thing and check it over himself before wheels up. Whatever it takes to make sure they get up in the air, right?”

“You think he doesn’t trust you?”

“I think he’s a pilot.” Mae said simply, getting back to work. “They’ve all got their superstitions. Seems like he knows what he’s talking about. More than some of these other jokesters can say.”

“Is that right?” Billie hummed. How was he real? He wore his competence well and Billie was so attracted to him it hurt. She felt weird feeling so strongly towards a stranger but she was almost at the point of full accepting her obsession.

Rosie hadn’t looked over in their direction yet, but Billie knew it was only a matter of time. She brought her knees up to her chin and she sat with her arms curled around her legs. Talk about the worst time to be in her PT gear, she was showing so much skin. There was no way Rosie wouldn’t see her. Well, it was possible he wouldn’t but highly unlikely. At least she had legs that looked good in her PT gear. Or she used to have good legs.

“Do I have nice legs?” Billie needed confirmation from Mae.

“You have a nice everything.” Mae said diplomatically not looking up to look at Billie.

“I’m being serious.” Billie pouted.

“So am I!” Mae finally turned to look at Billie. She stuck her hand on her hip and pointed a wrench at Billie. “Why are you worried about your legs all of a sudden?”

“No reason.”

“Really, what’s got you worked up?”

Billie couldn’t help but glance over at Rosie’s plane and Mae tracked her gaze.

“Huh.” was all Mae said.

Billie was mortified. But she knew that Mae wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Not there was anything there to make a big deal out of.

Mae looked at Billie hunched over on herself and chuckled. “Ease up, I’m not going to do anything.” Mae reasoned. “You’re really in it, aren’t you.” She shook her head. All of the nurses were boy crazy it seemed. Mae’s heart hurt, reminded of a time when that was her. But Billie looked so pathetic that Mae felt like she had to take her out of her misery. She reminded herself of when she was in the beginning butterflies stage, how big everything felt.

“Hey, come on.” Mae called to Billie. “I gotta run an errand with the jeep. Do you want a lift back to your hut?”

Billie was beyond grateful for Mae’s kindness. She didn’t have any other friends on the base who would stay quiet about Billie feeling some type of way over a man. Mae was a good friend and Billie was grateful this awful war had managed to bring them together.

Billie stood and walked over to the jeep. All she could think about was her legs and she imagined Rosie looking at them. It didn’t make sense that she felt this way even though she was revealing less skin than she did with her flying costume. There was a time when she felt perfectly at home parading around with barely anything covered and now here she was. How had she turned into such a prude? She tied to shake out the nervous energy running through her. She wished she could go back to running but it was too late in the day now.

She climbed into the jeep and finally let herself take a peek back in the direction of Rosie’s plane. Ken was standing facing away from her, gesturing to something in the engine. Rosie was standing facing her. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach dropped, but then she realized that she was too far away for him to really see her. Even if he did see her he wouldn’t be able to realize who she was, she reasoned with herself. She didn’t have to get so worked up over nothing.

“You good?” Mae asked as she jumped into the drivers seat and started up the jeep.

“All good.” Billie nodded.

Mae pressed on the gas and drove them away from Rosie, Billie’s heart somehow sinking the further and further away they got. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her game up.

______________________________________________________________

Billie made more progress on her scarf in the past couple of weeks than she had her entire stay at Thorpe Abbotts. She was down to only going out with the girls once a week. No matter how much they begged, Billie couldn’t get herself to risk it. The girls were worried about her, that much Billie knew. Barbara had given her no option but go out with them that night and Billie figured her plan was to get Billie drunk and force her to talk. She didn’t know how to explain how she was avoiding a pilot she’s never talked to, only stared at once and now can’t stop thinking about. She couldn’t explain how crazy and obsessed she felt. Barbara wouldn’t be able to understand that she can’t let herself be around Rosie.

Plus there was the fact that he was a pilot. They were in the middle of a war. It was hard enough waiting for Rosie to come back from missions as it was and she didn’t even properly know him. The anxiety would be too much for her to handle if she got closer with Rosie. The potential heartbreak too much, but Billie was one to always be at odds with herself. She wanted Rosie but she was too scared to do anything about it; she knew leaving him alone would protect her heart but it seemed more heartbreaking to not try and get to know Rosie with each passing day.

Rosie had burrowed himself deep under Billie’s skin and it was almost irritating. He was changing everything for her. Billie was used to having to constantly saying goodbye to people, used to good things happening only for brief moments. Billie was used to flings and moving on. Rosie shouldn’t have been different than any of the other men. But he was.

Billie’s train of thought was interrupted by Barbara coming through the door already asking, “Who wants to go out with me tonight? I was thinking the pub. Billie, you’ll come if we go to the pub, right?” Barbara clasped her hands together and brought them next to her face while she did her best to give puppy dog eyes to Billie.

“Really? The pub again?”

“What’s wrong with the pub? You love the pub.” Barbara’s hands went to her hips, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing is wrong with the pub. I just think you should stop avoiding Douglass at the officer’s club.” Billie shrugged as she focused back in on knitting.

“I said we weren’t going to talk about him!” Barbara shrieked. Billie could’t help but bite back a laugh at her friend’s dramatics.

“Sorry, my mistake.” Billie paused then sighed. There was really only one solution. She set her knitting down and got out of bed stretching her arms out over her head. “I’ll go with you.” Billie knew she wasn’t getting out of it so she might as well give in early.

“And I didn’t have to fight you on it,” Barbara eyed Billie suspiciously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Billie gestured to her knitting. “Just getting stir crazy. Head hurts from trying to count stitches.”

“Well you can’t back out now! Hey, can I do your makeup?” Barbara’s eyes shined with excitement.

Billie shrugged and said with a smile, “Let’s make it your night, Barbara. Do to me what you’d like.” She tried to play it off as if she was doing Barbara a favor but Billie had been keeping a secret.

It was no secret Billie didn’t wear makeup and only occasionally let Barbara dress her up. But it was a secret that Billie actually loved having her makeup done. Growing up the hair and makeup tent was where she felt most connected to her femininity. She was always safe with those women who took her in and taught her all of the things her mother hadn’t. She’d never admit it to anyone but Billie found it to be almost spiritual being surrounded by women putting themselves together for a show. For years the only gentle touches Billie got were from the women in that wagon. She’d missed that. Part of why it hurt so much being cut from the shows was because she lost the access to that feminine space.

When she was looking at herself in the mirror right before leaving Billie was struck by how much she looked like her old self. She straightened her posture and composed herself. Everything felt more like a show when she went out looking like this. Billie gave her reflection a cheeky wink, smiled, and turned to follow the rest of the girls out of the door and into the night.

It had only taken half an hour for Barbara to leave Billie’s side in favor of the minuscule dance floor. Billie had been expecting to be ditched and timed getting her next round with it; she loved how predictable Barbara was. Despite being on edge that Rosie would pop up somewhere, Billie was having a nice night. It was loud enough she could barely focus on her own thoughts which was something Billie appreciated more and more lately. She had a pleasant buzz going and was thinking that after this next drink she’d see what she could do about getting in on the dancing herself. She finally reached the bar and found a place right on the corner.

She’d only been there a moment when, “Hey! Circus girl. How’ve you been?”

Billie turned and Lieutenant Bailey was standing next to her. Her heart rate skyrocketed. If Bailey was here that meant the rest of Rosie’s crew, including Rosie, was there. “I’m fine.” she answered after a brief hesitation. “And you, Lieutenant? Your face seems like it’s healed up nicely.”

“All thanks to your fine care and attention.”

“Please,” Billie couldn’t help but smirk and rolled her eyes. “I had nothing to do with it and you’re lucky I didn’t. You’d probably be in worst shape if I did.”

“Why are you so down yourself? Come on,” He nudged her with his elbow trying to encourage her. “Did you forget that you’re in the circus?”

“The circus has nothing to do with this.” Billie laughed.

“Hey, speaking of— Do your circus skills include playing darts?” Bailey asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“That’s not a circus skill, more like a life skill. But yes, I can play.” Billie answered.

“Are you good?” Bailey pressed.

“I’m alright.” Billie hedged. She wasn’t sure if she liked the direction this was heading.

“Great! Do you want to come over and play with me and the guys? We’re down one since Rosie wanted to stay at the officer’s club. We can make a bet out of it, I’d split it if we win.”

“When we win.” Knowing there was no chance she’d run into Rosie, Billie was all in on playing darts. She used to play a bit when they first got to base but it had been a while since she’d taken it on and she was looking forward to it. It helped that she knew these men wouldn’t be expecting her to be as good as she knew she was. She wasn’t incredible, but she could hold her own. Billie also couldn’t resist the temptation to try and get some sort of information about Rosie. She was a woman obsessed.

“Now there’s some confidence!” Bailey cheered.

Finally the bartender stood in front of them and asked them what they wanted. Once they were loaded up with their drinks and some for those back at the table the two made their way to the back of the room where the dart board was set up.

“Fellas, this is Billie our resident circus nurse.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Billie laughed.

Bailey continued undeterred, “Billie, this is our copilot Pappy Lewis and our bombardier Clifford Milburn. They’re going to be very upset when we take all their money.”

“You two are going to be the ones losing money, not us.” Milburn joked.

The game got underway and it didn’t take long for Pappy and Milburn to realize that Billie could more than hold her own.

“What a shot!” Bailey let out a cheer when Billie hit the bullseye. “How you feeling boys?”

“Where did you learn to play darts?” Pappy asked Billie before taking a sip of his beer. “Last time I checked they weren’t a part of the circus.”

“You do know I had a life outside of the circus, right?” Billie said, partially lying. The circus had been her entire life but that didn’t mean she wanted them to know that. “But I learned the same as you did. Someone taught me and then I practiced until I was good to take your money.” She hit the bullseye again to finish her turn. “You should just be glad I’m playing with Bailey. If I had Eddie with me you wouldn’t have a chance at all.”

“Is Eddie your boyfriend?” Milburn asked.

Billie shook her head. “No, he’s my younger brother. You’d never guess we were three years apart, he’s more like my twin.” A wave of grief swept over her when she mentioned Eddie. She wondered how he was holding up in training. If he’d jumped out of a plane yet. She took a deep drink of her beer, wishing it was whiskey instead.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bailey was the one to ask this time.

Billie choked on her drink. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that Rosie’s crew was asking about her love life when she felt practically head over heels for their pilot.

“I take that to be a no?” Pappy was laughing at her.

Billie wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Pretending she wasn’t losing it on the inside she calmly answered, “You would be correct. Now I believe it’s your turn, Lieutenant.”

After winning best three out of five Billie and Bailey were the undeniable winners. Milburn and Pappy had wanted to push for five out of seven but Billie begged off.

“I have an early morning tomorrow and I can’t bounce back from a night of drinking like I used to.” Billie downed the last of her drink and set the glass amongst the dozen other empty glasses on the table.

“You’re too young to have hangovers like that.” Pappy said, confused.

“Not when you started drinking as young as I did.” Billie shrugged. People tended to age differently in her profession.

After saying her goodbyes Billie made her way to the door while looking around for her friends. She needed to find at least Barbara and figure out who was ready to go back to the hut. To her surprise the girls were already gathered to the side of the door talking amongst themselves.

“There you are!” Barbara cried when she saw Billie walking towards them. She pushed through June and Mae to pull Bailey in for a hug. “I lost track of you!”

“I was just playing darts.” Billie was confused how Barbara could have lost her in the relatively small pub, but then she took a whiff of Barbara as they hugged and could tell that Barbara had more than her fair share of whiskey over the course of the night.

“You didn’t see that?” Mae asked.

“You did?” Barbara responded. “Why didn’t you say anything when I asked?”

“I honestly wasn’t paying attention.” Mae said with half-assed shrug. “Sorry, Barbara.”

“It’s okay, now I don’t feel as bad when I tune you out when you’re talking about your repair details. You know we can’t keep up with that stuff I don’t know why you keep trying.” Barbara snapped.

“Oh come off it, Barbara.” June cut in.

Bille had a clear look at the door in the space between Barbara and June and blankly started out of it while the girls continued to chatter on besides her. She was waiting for a break in the conversation to say that she wanted to leave when someone came through the door. A someone that she was not supposed to see.

Bailey had said that Rosie would be at the officer’s club but there he was a couple of yards in front of her. Her first instinct, that she was quick to act on, was to move to the side so that June was shielding her from any possible view Rosie could have of her. Her mind was racing. She watched Rosie out of the corner of her eye as he slowly made his way through the room. He was good with the men. She liked how he seemed to check in on everyone in some capacity; he made the effort to see every man and to make sure they knew they were being seen. She could tell he cared a lot and his men knew he cared, and her heart sped up even more. She was beyond enamored with him and she didn’t even know him. She felt ridiculous. And lucky. Christ, she was lucky that she’d left his crew when she did. That could’ve been a disaster.

It was around when Rosie got to his crew that Billie realized the girls had gone quiet around her. She looked back to see all three looking at her.

“Care to share with the class?” Barbara asked, eyebrow raised, a wicked grin on her face.

“What are you talking about?” Billie tried to play it off.

“Who were you looking at? Who managed to catch your eye? I’ve been waiting for this day for forever! Who is it?” Barbara rapidly fired the questions off one after another.

“Why are you so invested in my love life?” Billie asked.

“Love life! So there is a man! Quick, who is it? Come on, tell us. Tell us. Tell us.” Barbara was acting like a child, drunkenly pulling on Billie’s arm as she begged Billie to share her secrets. June and Mae were looking at the pair laughing.

“There’s nothing to talk about, seriously. I was just looking around. Leave it be.” Billie said, but she knew it wouldn’t work. She knew these girls wouldn’t give up.

“You know, I think Rosie just got here.” Mae was looking back at the group playing darts. The rest of them followed her gaze and though she wasn’t sure if the rest would, Billie recognized Rosie’s back.

“I said leave it be, please, Mae.” She begged all but confirming that Rosie was her man.

“Fine, fine.” Barbara threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “We’ll leave it be. But just for now!”

“Barbara!” Billie groaned.

“What did you expect?” June looped her arm through Billie’s. “You know how she is.”

“You’re right.” Billie sighed. She lowered her voice so June was the only one who could hear her. “It’s just that there’s really nothing to talk about.”

“If you say so.” June accepted but her face revealed her doubt.

Billie decided not to fight it and turned to look back at Rosie just in time to see him clap Pappy on the back, celebrating a good throw. Their celebration died down a bit and then all of a sudden Rosie turned around and looked in Billie’s direction. Faster than she’s ever moved Billie whipped her head around with such force her body followed and she pulled herself and June out towards the door.

“Okay, I guess we’re leaving.” June laughed, taken by surprise with Billie’s sudden movement.

They walked out of the pub and out into the night. June waited until when they’d gained enough distance between them and Barbara and Mae to ask, “Do you want me to say something to Barbara about Rosie? I can make sure she doesn’t give you too much grief.”

Billie was touched at June’s kindness. She didn’t have a lot of quality girl friends growing up and it felt so good to have someone like June in her corner. She squeezed June’s arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. It was going to come out at some point. It’s just silly is all. I’ve never talked to him, just seen him from afar.”

“He’s quite striking isn’t he?” June asked.

Billie blushed as she agreed. “And it scares me.”

“Really?” June laughed. “Your concept of scary is all out of sorts. Normal people are scared about throwing themselves in the air hundreds of feet above the ground, not about talking to a man. You’ve got it all switched around.”

“You know what it’s like. He’s a pilot.” Billie felt it went without saying how risky it was to try to get involved with these men. Heartbreak was practically inevitable. She’d never admit it out loud but she was terrified of ending up like Mae. “If I could change it, I would.” Billie whined. “But I can’t stop thinking about him. I know I should just do something. Because the waiting really is getting to me. I can’t avoid him forever.” she pouted.

“It sounds like you’re putting off the inevitable, darling.” June patted Billie’s hand that was resting on June’s arm. “You’re bound to meet at one point or another. And then whatever is going to happen will happen. Just let it play out.”

“You’re good at this advice stuff.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She leaned into Billie’s side. “Eleven siblings.”

“Eleven? Christ, your mom must be a saint.”

“She’d like to think so,” June laughed.

The rest of their walk home was filled with June’s childhood stories, Billie marveling at the similarities with her own upbringing.

As she laid in bed that night Rosie came back to her mind. She wished she was able to get a better look at him. The problem with avoiding him was that she only got the barest of glimpses. One of these days she’d see him up close. She just wasn’t sure what was going to happen when she did.

______________________________________________________________

When Billie made her way down to the hardstand to wait for the men to come back from the day’s mission she wasn’t surprised to see a group of airmen playing volleyball. They were laughing, messing around with each other. It always warmed Billie’s heart seeing the men act like they were back home. It was rare to feel normal, it was hard to be able to brush off the looming realities of war surrounding them. Billie was glad that they were able to live in the moment. It had been a while since she’d watched one of the games so she headed to that end of the strip.

Billie was about twenty yards from the game when she recognized that Rosie was among them. Without even having to think about it, Billie immediately turned and started down in the opposite direction. She walked alongside the edge of the tarmac, saying polite hello’s to those who greeted her. Rosie wasn’t flying and that surprised her. She wondered what had happened, if something was wrong with him or the plane. She reasoned it was more likely something had happened to the fort, she’d have heard if Rosie was unable to fly. That sort of gossip wouldn’t stay quiet.

“All done for the day?” Mae asked when Billie plopped down on the ground next to her.

“Done for now.” Billie had changed into a set of coveralls that Mae had lent her at the beginning of her stay at Thorpe Abbotts. She knew that she was gong to have to change back later that day when she had to go into the hospital for an inventory check but for the afternoon she was staying in pants. She missed being able to wear pants all the time. Billie pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rested her head onto of her knees and looked at Mae. “How much longer until they’re back do you think?”

“Should be any time.” Mae answered. Billie hummed and then closed her eyes. Mae worked in silence for only a couple minutes before asking, “Didn’t want to watch the game?”

Billie knew Mae wouldn’t miss anything. “I wanted to hang out with you, is there anything wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, you’re just deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting anything!” Billie’s head shot up as she shot a look at Mae.

“You’re right. You’re in denial plain and simple.” Mae reasoned.

“Come off it, Mae.” Billie was mortified to be speaking aloud about this, even though no one around them knew what they were talking about. Billie’s chest was tight knowing Rosie was just down the stretch.

“You know he used to play baseball? Football too.”

Billie groaned. “I did know, actually. You told me a couple of days ago at lunch.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be reminded.” Mae shot Billie a wink. “Athletes tend to stick together, right?”

“Are you trying to say you consider me an athlete? Because I’m going to have to put a stop to that right now.”

“You’re as athletic as he is.” Mae reasoned.

“But I don’t do anything athletic!” Billie pouted.

“You run.”

“Other than running.” Billie dismissed Mae’s point with a flippant hand wave.

“Are you trying to say you didn’t do anything athletic back home?”

“I mean… yeah, I used to. But not anymore.”

“Just like he doesn’t anymore.” Mae was looking at her with a smug expression.

Billie was cut off from responding by a group of the local kids running by them. One of them, Sammy, stopped to say hello to Mae.

“How’re you doing today, Sammy?” Mae asked.

Sammy shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” Billie commented.

“Hey, do you want to see something fun?” Mae asked Sammy. Her eyes were twinkling like she had something up her sleeve.

His eyes lit up. “What is it?”

“Well, first I have to let you in on a little secret.” She used a finger to beckon Sammy closer and said in a quiet voice, “Nurse James here used to be in the circus.”

“The circus!” Sammy shouted. He’d caught the attention of some of the other kids. “You were really in the circus?” He asked Billie.

“I grew up in the circus.” Billie answered.

Sammy’s eyes were wide with excitement. “With elephants?”

“No, we didn’t have any elephants. But for a while we had a lion.”

“You had a lion!” another kid, Billy, joined the conversation. “Did he ever bite anyone’s head off?”

“Sorry to say, Billy, no one lost their head to the lion.”

“Why did you leave the circus when you had a lion?” Sammy asked.

“Well I had to come here and help, didn’t I?” Billie simplified her past for the kids.

Mae cut in, “Why don’t you ask her what she used to do in the circus.”

“Mae—” Billie started but was cut off by questions from all around her asking what she could do.

“Maybe if you are good she’ll show you something.” Mae egged on the kids. “I heard she can do a cartwheel.”

“I can do a cartwheel too!” One of the girls, Mary, raised her hand.

“Can you?” Billie asked with a smile. “Can I see?”

“Only if you go too.” Mary reasoned and Billie laughed.

“Fair enough. I walked right into that one didn’t I?” Billie got to her feet and followed the girl out to the other end of the hardstand and out onto the grass.

Mary did a decent cartwheel and Billie and the others watching all clapped. “Wait, wait. I can do a better one! Wait!” Mary rushed out before Billie could take her turn. Billie was impressed with how seriously the girl was taking her cartwheel. Mary composed herself then did another cartwheel, this time in better form.

She was beaming when she came running back to Billie. “Now it’s your turn!”

“Alright, alright.” Billie checked if the space was clear behind her before taking a good couple of steps back. She took a deep breath then said, “Here you go!”

Billie did one cartwheel, and then another. A third cartwheel. She started what looked like a fourth cartwheel but instead Billie halfway into it she went up into a handstand. Now this was fun. Billie loved handstands, so much so that growing up Eddie would tease Billie for being steadier on her hands than feet. Walking on her hands Billie chased after Sammy who was cackling.

Billie came to a stop then pushed her arms out to full extension, took a breath, and lowered her legs slowly into the splits. While her breath was steady her core was trembling; it felt so good. Billie knew she wasn’t going to fall but also that she was going to be feeling this for the next couple of days. She held the splits for only a moment before pushing off the ground and flipped herself right side up finishing the cartwheel.

The kids swarmed around her, giggling and begging her to do it again. What else could she do? Does she know how to do a flip? Billie noticed that more heads were turned in her direction. She didn’t have an outright crowd, but the kids surrounding her weren’t the only ones watching. It took all of Billie’s self control to not look over at the far end where Rosie was playing volleyball. She didn’t want to know if any of them were looking at her. If she knew Rosie was looking at her Billie wouldn’t be able to handle it. But deep down she didn’t know if she was going to be able to get out of this one unseen. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would think about her doing something so unladylike. One of the girls tugged on Billie’s arm pulling her attention back to what she was doing. She blushed when she took in the girl’s eyes, wide with shock and awe.

Even though Billie didn’t get cravings for an audience like the rest of her family she still appreciated aspects of the attention. It fed a sense of ego Billie was embarrassed to admit she had. It was one of her shameful secrets: she wanted to be remembered. As much as she hated her childhood and the way she was brought up, Billie knew there was a magic to the circus. It was an experience and something that stayed with attendees for the rest of their lives. People didn’t forget the circus and there were hundreds of people back in America that remembered Billie even if they didn’t know it was her. Everyone, no matter their age, ended up with the same childlike joy when they went to the circus. It was that reaction Billie cared about. It was only that reaction that pushed her to show off in front of the kids.

She desperately wanted to make sure the kids don’t forget about her. She wanted to live on through them. Less selfishly Billie wanted to counteract any bad vibes that may come when the mission came back. Entertaining people was work, but Billie was coming to think it was a necessary work. At least in these circumstances.

“Alright, alright. Give me some space.” Billie said gently. “Now just give me a moment.”

“What’s she going to do now?” The kids asked each other.

Mae answered for Billie, who had turned and was walking further down the hardstand out of earshot. “I think you best find yourself a seat for the show and find out.”

Billie spent her walk down the hardstand stretching out her arms and finished with a couple of lunges on each side. She was relatively warmed up but she didn’t think it would be wise to try and pull anything fancy. Her audience didn’t know what she could do, all they would care about was what she did. And she knew she could do enough to give them something to smile over. Once she felt like she was far enough away to have room for a couple of stunts Billie turned back around to face her audience. More men were looking at her than before but Billie let their stares roll off her back.

Billie took a deep breath then jumped in place a couple of times. “Are you ready?” She yelled down to the group of kids huddled by Mae. Instead of waiting for their response Billie started running and leapt into a series of stunts that had her flying past the group huddled around Mae. Billie couldn’t help but laugh when she stuck her final landing. The kids cheered while the onlooking adults clapped. Someone let out a whistle. It was such a gift to get such reactions. She vaguely registered there were more people looking her way but stayed focused on the kids.

“Shall I go again?” She lifted a hand to cup behind her ear, waiting for the response she knew was coming. As soon as she heard the first cheer she set off tumbling back down along the hardstand. This time when she finished she sunk into a deep curtsy.

When Billie pulled herself back up some of the kids were already at her side. She laughed as they talked over one another. It was so rare that Billie saw reactions to her tricks up close and personal that the reactions from the kids were overwhelming. She started to walk back to Mae but the kids were making it hard to move. Billie stumbled which caused the two kids in front to back up and give her more space. When Billie looked up after thanking them for giving her the space to move she was looking directly Rosie.

And Rosie was looking at her. He had broken away from the game to stand where the grass met tarmac. He’d been watching Billie. His hands were on his hips and a smile was lighting up his face. It was a smile aimed at her, a smile because of her. He was looking at her like he was endeared by the sight of her barely being able to move with the kids surrounding her. She knew the kids were talking to her. She knew she should be paying them attention. But she couldn’t pull away from Rosie.

She’d been wondering if it was all just a fluke; Billie had figured she’d made mountain out of a molehill. They had looked at each other once, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Billie had settled into thinking she was experiencing the effects of an overactive imagination and it being over a year since she’d had her last fling.

But this wasn’t like what she had convinced herself. Because, again, the eye contact with Rosie felt like the most real thing she had ever experienced. She didn’t understand how something as simple as eye contact could make her feel like this. It felt like she was flying. They stared at each other from across the hardstand, neither one of them paying any attention to what was happening around them.

Billie was ripped away from Rosie by one of the younger girls asking, “Can you go at it again? Oh please, can you?”

“Come on, Susan,” Mae cut in. “Let Nurse James take a break and catch her breath.”

“Just a quick breather and then I can go again.” Billie echoed what Mae said.

Her face felt like it was bright red and she was looking everywhere but back at Rosie. Now that she’d broken the eye contact she was terrified to look back his way.

A shout rang out, “I think I hear them!” Everyone’s attention went to the sky.

Sure enough, the hum of plane engines was building in the distance. As it grew louder it became clear that the engines didn’t sound right. From just the sounds of it, it was a rough mission. The first fort came into view— two engines down. Red flares. More forts broke through the clouds, red flares from almost all. Billie wanted to throw up.

“Alright kids, time to get back home.” Mae called to the kids as she stared up at the planes coming in. Her face was blank, eyes empty. Billie knew she was thinking about who they lost this time.

“Hey, Billie!” one of the ambulance drivers was jumping into the front seat of an ambulance parked back behind where Billie was standing. “Hop in, we’ll need your help.”

Billie ran to the passenger seat and before she even closed the door they were off speeding down the tarmac to where the first plane had taxied to a stop. The call for an ambulance came from the co-pilot shouting out his window. Billie leapt to action, grabbing a stretcher and running over to where the men had started jumping out of the back hatch.

“Come give us a hand!”

Billie helped pull the wounded gunner out and loaded him onto the stretcher. They’d made it halfway to the ambulance when he looked up and made eye contact with Billie. He stared at her, glassy eyed and confused.

When he realized who she was he groaned, “You’re not going to drop me, are you?”

“Trust me, Lieutenant, you would much rather have me carry you than try to patch you up. My girls Barbara and June are going to take much better care of you.”

That seemed to comfort him and once they loaded him up into the ambulance Billie ran back into the mess.

______________________________________________________________

It was one of the few sunny days they had seen at Thorpe Abbotts in a while and Billie refused to let it go to waste. It was only ever when the sun was out that she really remembered just how much she loved being in the sun. If her old self, the one who spent summers in the deep south, could see Billie now wishing for the sun and heat she’d lose it. Billie had managed to convince June to join her on a makeshift picnic not wanting to lounge alone in the fall sun. She had just sent June off to scavenge for something they could bring out for lunch. June had said she’d made friends with a woman who worked in the kitchens so Billie didn’t feel bad about putting her friend to work.

Once Billie got the blanket sorted she tossed down her book and sat down. It took a minute to find a comfortable position in her uniform skirt, but she eventually made do. Out of everything Billie had to adjust to when she became a nurse it was the skirts that were the hardest; Billie missed her pants. She grabbed the copy of Frankenstein she still hadn’t managed to finish and opened up the back cover. She pulled out a letter she’d stuffed there earlier and put the book back down on the ground next to her.

Billie was proud of herself for waiting until June left her alone on the blanket to open her brother’s letter. It had taken every ounce of strength but Billie knew she needed to wait until she was alone to take in her brother’s words. It was different now. Despite what her anxiety prepared her for it was a fairly normal and simple letter. There was a story about his friends, questions about how she was holding up, and reassurances that he was okay. Eddie’s voice practically jumped from the page making it easy for Billie to hear her younger brother’s enthusiasm. He was having fun on this grand adventure or however it was young boys looked at war. Billie’s heart tightened as she thought about how naive Eddie was, how young and innocent. She’d been seeing her brother’s face in almost every new recruit lately. It was getting tiring.

Billie was so focused on the letter that she just barely registered someone sitting down next to her. She was surprised; she didn’t think June would get back so soon. She opened her mouth to say as such but—

“That from Eddie?”

That was not June’s voice. Billie straightened up to full attention, her head snapping to the side where the voice came from. It was Rosie.

His face was about a foot from hers and Billie couldn’t help but suck in a breath in surprise. Her face flamed. He leaned back, and what looked like a blush dusted his cheeks. At least she wasn’t alone in being embarrassed. The air between them felt charged.

Right, he’d asked her a question. She had no idea how he knew her brother’s name but she answered, “Yeah, it’s from Eddie.” She looked back down at the letter in her hands. “They’re in the middle of training. He says he’s having a lot of fun.”

“Well that’s good news.” he smiled reassuringly.

“It is,” She agreed. “It’s just…” Billie raised her eyes to meet his again. “It’s not going to stay fun. Not for much longer.”

He gave her a soft smile, maintaining eye contact. He didn’t need to say anything for her to know he understood what she was trying to say.

“But enough about me.” Billie twisted her body a bit so that she was facing Rosie a bit more head on. If he was going to act as if they were already five conversations in she would follow along. She waved a hand to gesture he should take the floor. “How is your day going?”

“It’s going better now I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh is it now?”

“It’s a recipe for success: a free afternoon, sunny and clear sky, and my favorite girl next to me.”

Billie’s heart skipped a couple beats. “Is that right?”

“I said it so it must be true.” Rosie’s smile warmed her right up like a double shot of whiskey. He wasn’t what she was expecting at all. She enjoyed the surprise, wondered where else it was going to go. They were already so far beyond any of her fantasies. Everything was so surreal.

He picked up her book and thumbed through it. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s good. Better than Moby Dick was. At least with this I can mostly follow along.” She thought about explaining herself but she doesn’t want to get into her sob story about wishing she could’ve gone to real school.

“I think I know what you should read next.”

“A book recommendation? I’m flattered.” Billie briefly worried she sounded sarcastic but she meant it. Luckily Rosie’s answering smile told her he understood her perfectly.

“The Great Gatsby. I’ve read it twice and it just gets better with each read. Plus it’s not that old so it’ll be far easier to understand than this.” He lifted the book in the air. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the classics.” Billie couldn’t help but think Rosie looked adorable as he tried to cover his bases in case he insulted her somehow.

“Thank you, I appreciate the recommendation. I’ll check it out once I finish this. It was hard enough giving up on one book I don’t think I could forgive myself if it happens a second time.”

Rosie smiled wider at that and Bille felt like she could explode from the inside out. “I can give you recommendations on anything, anytime you’d like.”

Billie’s heart skipped a beat. Rosie was looking around trying to act cool. Billie could only see the side of his face and it was bright red.

She debated what to say to cover the tension but then decided to lean into it instead of avoiding the awkwardness. Plus she liked seeing him blush. “How did you know my brother’s name?”

Her question made Rosie squirm a little and Billie found herself thrilled at the response. She had an affect on him. He was reacting because of her. She felt oddly powerful, like some sort of mild femme fatale. It had been a long time since she was in a position like this with a man. It was way back before she ran away from home that she’d had her last fling.

“I asked around about you.” Rosie confessed.

Her jaw dropped. “Really? What did people say?” She needed to know.

He nodded. “Well I heard a couple of stories about some blood draws and stitches.” Billie groaned at his words and her face heated with embarrassment. Of course that would be her reputation.

“You’re fine.” Rosie sweetly reassured. He rubbed a hand down her back reassuringly. Billie’s chest constricted at the contact. Was this really happening? Rosie continued, “I also heard that you somehow seem to know something about every airman’s hometown. You can juggle, play darts, and like jazz.”

“I wouldn’t say almost every airman, realistically it’s more like a handful.” Billie reasoned. Her face felt like it was on fire.

“I gotta say, though.” Rosie said. “You don’t make sense to me.”

“I don’t make sense?” Why did that feel like it was the most true thing anyone had ever said about her?

“It’s just that to some people you’re this quiet unassuming nurse but I’ve heard you do more than nursing. Supposedly you’re always running around looking for something to do or someone to help. It’s like you’re trying to do a bit of everything.”

Billie didn’t know how to respond to that. “I feel like two different people sometimes.” Billie said softly. “It’s just that when I’m nursing …” she shook her head as she trailed off.

“I want to know more about you.” Rosie said boldly. But he said it in the sweetest gentle voice. He was treating her with a delicate care she didn’t think she’d ever receive.

Billie felt like she was going to have a heart attack. She was used to forward sexual advances, used to midnight trysts and pillow talk and never speaking again. She had no experience on the real getting to know you part of romantic feelings. “What do you want to know?” She asked.

“Everything.” He answered. “I never want to stop learning things about you.”

Billie stared at his face, taking him in. She’d been thinking about him for so long. For over a month she’d been left with her memory and fantasies. But now he was real. And the real Rosie wanted to know about her. “Come off it, you sweet talker.” her instinct was to attempt to tease. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’m serious.” Rosie insisted. How was this happening? Billie was in disbelief. The possibility of him being this interested in her hadn’t been one of the scenarios she’d imagined would happen when she finally met Rosie. Attraction, maybe. This curiosity? No.

“Alright then.” She straightened her posture and smiled at Rosie. “Pick something. You have to start somewhere or you’ll never get anywhere.”

He looked unsure for a moment so Billie reassured, “You can ask about anything. I’m an open book with you.” With him she’d be anything he wanted.

After thinking for a moment, staring up at the sky, he hesitantly asked, “How did you end up here? I mean, you normally hear about people running away to join the circus not people running from the circus.” Rosie seemed to be trying not to offend her, it was sweet.

Billie thought for a moment. She reached out to where the edge of the blanket met the grass. She ripped out a couple of blades. “My story is the same as everyone else’s I suppose. I felt like I should help so I did.” She shrugged then elaborated.

“A lot of our performers over the years have been European so I was tracking the war for a while through them. Hearing about what was happening to their homes, their families… I knew it was only a matter of time until we got pulled in.” She took a breath. She wasn’t sure how deep she wanted to get with him. She had said that she would answer anything and Rosie deserved her full truth. “I’d wanted to run away from home my whole life. Growing up in the circus I couldn’t help but want a normal life.” She let out a weak laugh, “You know, for the longest time my dream was to live in one place for longer than three months. How sad is that.”

“But you’ve done that now.” Rosie gestured to the base around then.

“I’ve done that now, you’re right.” She smiled at him, getting lost in his eyes again for a moment. She blinked. “Anyways, Pearl Harbor happened and it was all too real. I realized just how silly the circus is and how pointless my life was there. I wanted to be somewhere where I mattered.” She cleared her throat. “So I saw an advertisement for all the ways women could help the war effort and signed up. Since I had a basic understanding of first aid I felt like nursing was my best chance to do some good.” She laughed at how silly she’d been thinking she would make a good nurse and looked down at the grass in her hands. She stacked the blades together and then ripped them in half. “Plus I figured this way I could see whether or not I can handle the real world. My family wants me to come back after the war but I think I’d like to stay away.”

“You’ve run away once, why would you want to do it again?” Rosie said. He was looking at her like he understood exactly how she was feeling. It was overwhelming.

“Exactly.” She raised her hand to toss the ripped up grass back out onto the ground next to the blanket. Rosie grabbed her hand from the air and Billie gasped. He was certainly forward but Christ, did she not mind.

He lightly traced his finger along the scar on her palm, still red after her activities on the hardstand the day before. His touch gave her goosebumps. She didn’t dare say anything. She was too afraid of spoiling the moment. It seemed like Rosie had taken her hand without considering what he was doing. Billie couldn’t believe that she was really sitting out in the open with Rosie with him caressing her hand. She thought about her hands, her rough skin. The faint calluses that would probably never go away. Her hands weren’t smooth and pretty like the girls Billie figured Rosie was used to. He seemed like the type to fit in with the girls like Rebecca, the smart college girls with everything put together. But he was holding her hand, not Rebecca’s. For a moment Billie imagined what they looked like, sat close together and touching like this. Out in the open where anyone could walk by and see them. People would jump to conclusions. But… would she really mind? She shouldn’t be letting him touch her but he was treating her with a sort of reverence she didn’t think she deserved. She felt special and she wasn’t used to that. He let go of her hand and she slowly brought it back to her lap.

“So were the clown rumors wrong?” Rosie asked.

“Is that what people are saying, that I’m a clown?” Billie laughed loud and bright. “At least there’s not a bet about it, or is there?” She thought for a brief moment then asked, “What did you think I did?”

“I thought you could be anything and everything.”

“That’s not a real answer.” Billie teased. “But it’s funny you would say that because in the end there I really did a bit of everything.” She listed them off on her fingers, “Training, teaching, childcare, cooking, building stages, setting up lighting rigging, horseback riding” she trailed off, thinking. “Growing up in it I had no choice but learn how to fill any possible part that would need it. For the sake of the bet, however,” She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “I was the best at the trapeze.”

Billie looked up through her eyelashes at Rosie and couldn’t help but smile. He was so pretty up close. How had she avoided him for so long? She cleared her throat and sat back up. “We can pretend I didn’t tell you and you can get in on the bet if you’d like. I won’t even make you split it with me.”

“You’re too kind.” Rosie chuckled. “But there was no bet, don’t you worry about it.” He lightly elbowed Billie in the side as he assured her. She loved the playful teasing. “The trapeze, huh? Flying up in the air?” Rosie asked.

Billie blushed and nodded. She liked the look of awe in Rosie’s eyes. “I used to be in the shows more when I was younger but…” She shook her head to clear out a memory. “But now I’m an understudy and mostly help people train. Or back before the war I did. I’m here with you now.” She loved saying that, with you. She wanted to keep saying it to him. She couldn’t help but want to say it forever.

It was quiet between them for a moment and Billie was struck by how much she didn’t mind the silence. It was comforting simply being around Rosie. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to try and soak up the warmth from the sun they rarely saw. She was utterly blissed out. She hadn’t been this happy in ages. She felt so safe.

Rosie’s voice pulled her back to reality by asking, “What’s it like, being in the air?”

Billie opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Rosie again. “What do you mean?” She knew what he meant but still joked, “You go up in the air constantly you would know.”

“But not like you. My air is nothing like yours.”

Billie smiled. She looked up at the sky, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She considered her answer. “I’d still bet we feel the same. I mean… I don’t know. There’s really nothing quite like it. I think it’s the only place I��ll ever feel free. Everything happens so fast it’s exhilarating.”

The sounds of laughter and cheers, shouts from some game or another comes from over the mess building. Billie thought about seeing Rosie the other day playing and blushed. He was having so much fun it was adorable. She wondered if he missed playing sports.

Rosie seemed to have followed her train of thought because he commented, “You looked like you were having fun yesterday.”

Billie reached her arms out and leaned back to go to her original position of leaning back on her arms but when she put her left hand down it covered two of Rosie’s fingers. Her eyes jumped to his face and met his own eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure what she should do, leave it alone or acknowledge it somehow. She didn’t move, holding her breath. A beat passed, then two. Then Rosie moved his hand from under hers and brought down to fully cover Billie’s instead. She felt her face heat and she looked away from Rosie. But she didn’t move her hand.

“I did have fun yesterday.” She said. “Playing with the kids is always a treat. How about you? How was volleyball? Did it make you miss your athlete days?”

“Now what do you know about my athlete days?” His thumb rubbed the top of her hand. Goosebumps ran up Billie’s arms.

“Just that they happened. That you’re talented.” she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re good with your men, and everyone respects you as they should. They prepared you well for being out here. You’re good at what you do.” she felt like she could go on and on but cut herself off before she got carried away. She desperately didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

His eyes were wide and she was pleased to see a blush on his face. “You’re not the only one who did some asking around, you can’t judge me.” She said.

“No judgement.” He shook his head. “I’m flattered. Relieved.” He gave a weak laugh like he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. “No,” he finally answered. “I don’t miss my days of being a jock. It feels like I’m on a team here in some twisted way.”

“That makes sense. War is a team sport of sorts.” Billie had to admit.

The two settled into a conversation that started with the Yankees then turned to New York and the differences between the city and the countryside they now resided in. Things got quiet between them. The air was filled with sounds of the base around them. Life was moving on forward but for them it was still. Billie and Rosie seemed to be in their own bubble that both hoped would never end. But knew it had to.

Billie looked at her watch and let out a groan. It was time to get moving to the hospital for her shift or else she’d be late. And she couldn’t stand to be late again. She turned to look directly at Rosie with a deep frown on her face.

“I have to get going to work now.”

“Is that the case?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then let’s get you on your way, shall we?”

They stood and worked together to fold up the blanket. Billie held it tightly to her chest. Rosie offered his arm out to her which she took, blushing. At this point she figured her face was just going to stay red whenever she was around Rosie.

They talked as they walked, slower than Billie should’ve but she didn’t have it in her to pick up the pace. Now that she had Rosie she didn’t want to let him go. Selfishly she wanted him all to herself. She wished she could always stay by his side. Obsessed. She was obsessed and needed to calm down. But it was hard when Rosie seemed to be hanging on her every word.

After a brief lull in the conversation Rosie said, “You know, I’ve been hoping I would run into you. I’m glad it’s finally happened.”

Somehow Billie sensed that this was something he was nervous to share. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he reasoned, “but when I saw you that night it was like my world stopped. Everything collapsed in on itself until it was just you and me and nothing has ever felt more right to me.”

Billie was astounded. There was no way this was happening. She thought it was just her. But he had felt the same thing. There was no way that something like this could happen to a girl like her.

Rosie continued, “But you were always just out of reach. It felt like you were running away from me for a while. It didn’t make sense how I couldn’t find you, I mean the base isn’t that big.” He let out a self deprecating laugh. “I know it was all in my head, why would you be running away from me? What I mean to say is that I’m glad to be walking with you, talking with you.” He smiled sweetly at her and Billie felt her heart stop. “Thankful that you’re letting me be with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, really.” Billie quietly insisted.

“You know, for a bit I thought I imagined you. You were such a vision that night you didn’t seem real. You seemed the sort of thing a lonely boy would dream up after a rough mission. But then at the flak house Ron started talking about this nurse who lived with the circus and I knew it had to be you. It couldn’t be anyone else. Once I knew you were real I knew there was nothing for me to worry about.” He patted the hand she had resting on his arm.

Billie was struck by his honesty. She’d never been with a man this open and upfront about how he was feeling. She supposed that when you regularly faced death you stopped holding things back. It was only fair for her to do the same. It was time for her to make a confession. If for no other reason than she felt like she owed it to whatever was happening between them to lean into the honesty.

“I hate to say it, really, but you weren’t imagining anything.” Billie didn’t look at him when she said it.

Now it was his turn to ask, “What do you mean?” Rosie slowed them down but didn’t stop walking.

“I wasn’t running away from you I was just … avoiding situations where we might cross paths.”

Rosie looked shattered. “Why would you do that?”

“You terrify me.” Billie simply said.

At that Rosie brought them to a stop. “I scare you?”

“More than anything else.” Billie felt ridiculous saying it but she had to. “Nothing compares to you, could ever compare to you.” She looked down at her hands. A thought popped into her head that she didn’t want to ask but she couldn’t stop herself. “Why didn’t you chase after me?”

They were about a hundred yards from the hospital. She knew she shouldn’t be having this conversation out where anyone could come up and ruin whatever this was. There were enough people around that it was only a matter of time until someone came and stole Rosie’s attention from her.

“I wasn’t sure how to make ‘we made eye contact once and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since’ not sound creepy and off-putting. So I kept to myself.” he shrugged. “I had this feeling that it would happen eventually so I didn’t try to force it even though I’d hoped it would happen sooner.”

“I know what you mean. Even when I was avoiding you I knew it was pointless. I was only delaying the inevitable.” she shrugged.

“Well we’re here now.” Rosie said.

“Here we are.” Billie agreed.

“Together.” Rosie smiled at her and Billie felt warmed all the way down to her toes.

“Together.” She repeated with a giggle.

“Billie!” June’s voice rang through the air. She was standing in front of the hospital, gesturing to her watch. Billie got the gist. It was time to get moving.

She looked to say goodbye to Rosie but he said, “We never introduced ourselves.”

“Do we have to? We know who we are. Both of us asked around about each other.” Billie thought it was a bit pointless.

“It’s the polite thing to do, come on.” Rosie insisted.

Billie pulled her arm from his and took a step away and turned to face Rosie. She dipped into a quick curtsy then stuck out her hand. “Billie James. Circus runaway. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Rosie took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal, but I’d like it if you called me Rosie.”

“That the only thing you’d like me to call you?” She raised an eyebrow with her lips stretched in a smirk. Rosie blushed but gave back a smile of his own as he matched her energy.

“Oh I’m sure we can figure something else out, just you and me.”

“I’d like that.” Billie said. They were still shaking hands, looking dopily at each other.

“Billie! Let’s go!” June was getting close to being actually upset which was saying something. June tended to be the most even keel of their little group.

She pulled her hand from his and started walking backwards towards the hospital, still facing Rosie. “It was lovely meeting you, Rosie.”

“It was past time, wouldn’t you say?”

“Beyond.” Billie agreed. “Thank you for spending time with me.” She turned before she could hear Rosie’s response. She broke into a light jog then burst through the door as she rushed out apologies to June.

“I’m sorry I lost track of time.”

“I should’ve known it was going to happen when I set him on you.” June reasoned.

“You did this?” Billie never would’ve guessed June would be the type to meddle.

“Yes, you’re welcome, I expect to be a bridesmaid in your wedding. Now get situated. We have more to get done than I thought. I still got you something to eat though.” June gestured to the back closet where they stored any personal things.

“You’re an angel.” Billie gave June a quick hug.

She could tell her friend was stressed and didn’t want to add any more than she already had, so Billie snapped to it and got right to work. June was right, there were enough patients and projects to keep her busy well into the shift. It wasn’t until she had a brief moment to eat some of the food June had gotten from the mess hall that she thought about Rosie. Or rather let herself keep thinking about Rosie. She didn’t think it was possible for her to stop thinking about Rosie. Nothing felt real. But it was.

#masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fic #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air oc #i posted a very early version of this a couple weeks ago that i don't think anyone read but if you did shhhhh no you didn't #feeling some type of way posting this please be nice it's been so long since i've written anything #rosiegirlie writes

28 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 8 days

Text

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive.

summary: aruna nearly dies (again).

wc: 5.9k+

warnings: descriptions of drowning, descriptions of being stabbed by a log, a lot of everyone being bad at feelings (both in present and in the... past? the other timeline? not sure what to refer to it as)

a/n: how many times can aruna almost die in this fic? let's find out, ig.

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“Wyll, no!”

Aruna should have saved her breath. She really, really should have.

There’s no air to spare in her lungs, mouth left wide open still, as she crashes into the current below. It’s a vicious thing – the water shows no grace as it moves her center of gravity, pulling her along in the rush, so quickly she doesn’t hear the shouts of her companions.

Another voice even joins them. An unfamiliar one, that somehow carries just as much concern as she practically drowns.

Similar to when she’d first used her magic, Aruna doesn’t have to ponder or remember if she can swim. Her body acts accordingly; her feet kick exhaustingly, her arms try to move against the waves to slow her down. Nothing works. All she gets out of it is another mouth full of water as a sudden drop in the river yanks her under.

This is it, she thinks through the burn of her lungs as the fresh water fills them, this is how I die. I managed to survive the poisoning only to die because I slipped.

She wonders if Astarion would have laughed had he been there.

It’s meant to be a soothing thought, but through her sheer panic, all she can recall is Shadowheart’s reveal. The way Astarion had been frantic when he’d returned her to camp, the way he had been so ferociously protective of her while she was in such a vulnerable state.

Her shadow had left her to her own devices, and this time, he wouldn’t be there to save her.

I wish he was.

Her elbow scrapes against a jagged rock as she breaks the surface of the water again, gasping for breaths before she’s taken under again. It stings – Gods, it stings – and her palm only takes a beating when she tries to grab onto the culprit.

It’s too deep for her to reach the bottom. She can’t stop. She’s completely at the water’s will, and she’s going to drown.

Save Astarion, no matter the cost.

Maybe the letter had meant her blood.

Save Astarion, no matter the cost.

Maybe now that she had allowed him to feed, had given him a group to travel with, he’d be safe.

Save Astarion-

A hand wraps around Aruna’s bicep suddenly, her arm being the only thing even poking out of the water, lifting her up with absolutely no gentleness. She swears, there’ll be bruises in mere hours from the rough-handling.

She’s tossed suddenly to a nearby bank, a broken branch stabbing into her side. If she had any breath left, that certainly would’ve taken it. She yelps out regardless as her fingers dig into pebbles below, no longer being dragged violently down the river, only below her knees still in the current’s grip.

The water around her runs a light pink as she army-crawls her way up the bank to get clear of the currents.

“Aruna!”

It’s Shadowheart screaming for her. Even with spotted vision, even as she’s coughing up mouthfuls of water, she can decipher that voice. Which begged the question…

“You-” a very wet Gale gasps, his hand still holding onto her bicep for dear life, “-have got to stop nearly dying.”

“Can’t breathe,” she hardly manages wheeze out, trying to sit up and failing miserably, still feeling the stabbing pain of the branch that must be lodged between her ribs, “I- I-”

Gale’s touch suddenly turns gentle, tossing his head about to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks her over. It’s only once he’s turned her onto her back, water rushing into her ears but no longer drowning her, that he spies the culprit.

What in the Hells has happened?

It’s certainly not her own voice in her head sounding detrimentally pissed off as she continues to whimper, struggling for each deep breath that gets cut short.

“Hold still,” Gale instructs her sternly, maneuvering their bodies so that her head rests in his lap, leaning over her as his shaking hands hesitated in touching that branch. A few droplets of water run down the bridge of his nose, dripping down onto her chin, but she hardly cares.

She can’t breathe.

Where are you?

Astarion’s voice in her mind does little to soothe all her panic. She’s not going to drown, but she has a giant fucking log of wood pierced into her side.

When she doesn’t respond, she can feel irritation traveling down that tadpole bond. It’s weaker than she’s used to – not nearly as potent as it was whenever she was actually in camp with Astarion – but she can still feel every swirling emotion as he does.

Irritation. Anger. And then… panic.

Not her own. A sense of urgency that bleeds into the one consuming her now, mixing in a disastrous way. A kind of desperation that would make a man pull a dagger on his fellow companions, demanding help for the limp girl in his arms. The kind of anguish you don’t feel for a stranger.

“Shadowheart!” Gale yells suddenly, fingers hardly prodding the surrounding armor around the wound, only to elicit a yelp from Aruna, “I- Gods, I- I’m sorry. Shadowheart, we need healing!”

The water is cold. Her entire body aches with shock, the wound beginning to numb once Gale moves his hands to simply cup each of her cheeks. They offer a little bit of warmth, something she’s quick to welcome, leaning into them as she continues to struggle.

The shallow water here is turning a darker shade of pink, swirls of red focused at Aruna’s right side, exactly where the rather large stick protrudes.

Aruna, tell me where you-

River.

It’s all she can muster to offer him over the bond. She can hardly even flutter her eyes open, barely making out Shadowheart’s silhouette on that distant makeshift bridge.

“If I die,” Aruna manages to croak, and she suddenly feels Gale’s hold on her cheeks press just a little bit harder, “Do me a favor and-”

“No,” Gale stresses, tearing his gaze away from where Aruna thinks Shadowheart still is, “No, you are not dying. Save your energy.”

“If I am-”

“If you make me promise to take care of that damn dog,” Gale’s voice wavers, dark brown eyes locking with Aruna’s own amethysts, “I’ll leave Astarion to deal with him. I swear.”

“Shut up about the dog,” Aruna nearly laughs, but the new wave of pain effectively cuts her off, “I’m more worried about Astarion.”

Gale’s entire demeanor changes. She watches as waves of concern and confusion drag him under just as the river had done to her, “Astarion?”

She manages to nod her head, even with his steady palms on either side still.

“He’s not all bad, y’know,” her voice is a whisper of a murmur, hardly audible over. Her eyes flutter shut once more, fatigue making her bones heavier than even her soaked armor. She swears she hears sloshing footsteps nearby, “And… And I have to… I’ve gotta keep him…”

“Aruna,” Gale begs now, shifting beneath her. She can smell his cologne now, even through the biting wetness of the river’s bank. It’s sweeter than Astarion’s, softer, “I promise you, whatever business you have with Astarion, you can take care of once we’re back in camp. We are getting you back to camp.”

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive.

She thinks for a moment that she’s said it outloud as Gale starts to call out to their other companions frantically once more, as though her words may have triggered something within the man clinging to her. She swears she can feel them dragging her body further out of the water, causing her to shiver ferociously as the lightest breeze damn near freezes her.

I won’t be doing anything of the sort. You will – because you’re not dying. Keep him alive yourself, Aruna.

He hadn’t said that outloud. Any voices she can hear are all muffled, but Gale’s voice comes through clear as day.

It’s a different caress than her connection with Astarion. Whereas the presence of Astarion in her mind causes a soft purr, a gentle warmth that she’s eager to nestle into, Gale’s presence is electrifying. Sparkling, dazzling. Shivers run up and down her spine, and she can’t distinguish if they’re due to being completely out of the water now, or if they’re due to the new occupant privy to her mind and thoughts.

Even the dancing, purple sparks that she can nearly envision behind her closed lids aren’t keeping the beckoning darkness away at the edges of her consciousness.

Before it takes her, though, that familiar warmth is back. She decides as she hears the call of Astarion’s voice in her mind, that if he were to be allotted color, it would be a deep burgundy. A staining maroon. Something deep, something old, something warm. Bolder than even the blood she can feel still slowly seeping out of her wound.

If you die before I get to you, I will incinerate the wizard.

The darkness claims her.

—

“I think you like Gale more than you let on,” Aruna teases from her seat at the particularly fancy stool Astarion had set out in front of his tent’s entrance. She wasn’t even sure where he’d procured it, the red velvetine of the cushion far nicer than anything else that litters their camp. She’d be complaining relentlessly about it, if it wasn’t for the fact that the comfortable stool had practically become hers from how often Astarion allowed her to loiter about and sit on it.

“Is that so?” Astarion murmurs, his nose currently buried in a book as he stands, eyes flitting over the pages. Another item that she’s clueless as to how he’d obtained it – along with the other fifty tomes stacked within his tent.

Aruna leans forward, legs crossed beneath her, hardly balancing on the cushion, “Indeed. Don’t think I didn’t notice you saving him from that kobold earlier.”

At this point, Aruna’s convinced he’s only pretending to read, blatantly ignoring her to get a rise out of her. He hasn’t turned the pages in several minutes. Plural.

“His magic has proven useful from time to time,” Astarion drawls, shifting his weight between his legs but still making no move to look up at Aruna, “Besides, I’m sure if I let the wizard perish, you’d have my head.”

“Do you think me so cruel?”

“I know you so cruel.”

He’s wearing a half-smirk, and she hates the way it lures her closer. She has half the mind to demand they all call it a night early, if only to get Astarion alone in his tent so that she could curl up within a safe distance from him, not quite touching, but still locked away in their own little bubble.

It’s not the same camp as the one they began in. They’d long since left that one behind, their journey taking them farther than any of them had ever anticipated. Earlier in the day, they’d taken to investigating the Creche – although it hadn’t lasted long when they’d stumbled into a room of kobolds, and an ill-timed firebolt on Aruna’s account had nearly burned them all to ash from all the firewine in the room.

This camp suits him better, though, Aruna thinks. The sun shines brighter here without the cover of the forest around. A certain golden hue floods their small nook within the mountains, and the way Astarion basks in it is a sight to behold.

His skin and hair is so light, he almost becomes the sunlight.

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” she hums in a playful tone, leaning back, narrowing her gaze at him, “I am an absolute ray of sunshine, I’ll have you know.”

“On whose account?” he scoffs, finally snapping that book shut. He doesn’t even mark the page he’d been holding up this entire time, “Yours, or that poor merchant you flambeed?”

Some of the playfulness deflates out of her shoulders, “That merchant was not some poor soul. She was demanding we hand over a child, Astarion.”

“I’d hardly consider a githyanki egg a child. And it could have awarded us quite the pretty amount of gold.”

“I couldn’t give a damn about the gold. Even without Lae’zel present, I would have wanted to turn that gods-awful woman to nothing more than a pile of soot and ash.”

He finally looks at her, taking steady steps towards her until he’s within reach of setting his book down at the table before her. There’s a mirror balanced there, one that proves useless to him, but he still keeps it around for some reason.

He leans down until he’s eye-level with her, still just out of reach, ruby eyes glowing, “Remember that the next time we come across a trader who holds a pretty weapon that you ache to get your hands on.”

“That was one time,” she scowls as he cracks a deceivingly sweet smile.

“All it takes is a taste of corruption, my dearest Aruna.”

It wasn’t her proudest moment, admittedly. But Astarion had been just as eager to comply when Aruna had pulled him aside and whispered the request to him – she’d distract the merchant, and he’d put his nimble hands to use by getting the enchanted bow that had caught Aruna’s eye. It had worked out in the end. That bow had proven more than just useful, repeatedly proving it’s worth in battle when Aruna would use it to cover Astarion from any foes he happened to not notice.

He knows she’s recalling the moment as she shifts to suddenly stand and leave his tent. But she doesn’t even make it to her feet before he’s caging her in, a hand steadied on either side of her against that rickety table, fully invading her space now.

No one else in camp even blinks an eye. Gale is across the camp, deep in discussion with Karlach as Wyll idles near them, clearly listening in. Lae’zel is out of sight, but the sharpening of her sword can be heard clearly.

They’d all known that Aruna had taken to fortifying with the vampire. She hadn’t been very sneaky about it. That was more Astarion’s style – not hers.

What they didn’t know, however, was how far it had gone beyond the exchange of bodies. Long gone were the nights of distracting sex and honeyed words of seduction; in their place now settled quiet nights of simple discussions in Astarion’s tent, whispered confessions of haunting pasts exchanged rather than bruising kisses. A bearing of scars, of souls, rather than their nude bodies.

He’d never explicitly said it, but Aruna knew better than to utter a single word of what Astarion confided in her during those private moments. He’d trusted her – he trusts her.

And so she let him keep up the overly flirtatious act in front of others. For as long as he allowed it, she would let them think she was doing nothing more than keeping his tent warm. He was well worth that scuffed reputation.

“Now, just where do you think you’re going?”

A game of cat and mouse still exists between them, and she never can tell if it’s still just for show. She can’t tell if he can hear it – the unfortunate thrumming of her heart, always racing when he’s near, even without her own volition.

She’s toeing a dangerous line.

Mindless sex was fine. A blooming friendship was encouraged. But whatever she had begun to feel? Somehow, she’s convinced she’d rather be known as Astarion’s plaything than ever admit the fondness brewing within her. Better for everyone to assume she only wanted Astarion for his body, for the pleasure he could bring her, than to confess the way his words were amongst the most sacred things he had offered her. Better to play the role of a doting fool vying after his alluring lips than to admit that his mind intrigued her more than a single muscle across his lean form.

It would simply have to become her best kept secret. Both from all their companions, and especially from Astarion.

“To speak to Gale and Karlach,” she snarks, tilting her chin up, meeting his daring gaze, “At least they have the galls to admit when they consider you a friend.”

“Full of fire tonight, are we?” his voice drops to a whispering rasp, eyes flickering across her face. Any onlooker might assume he’s simply catching a glance at her lips in hopes of a kiss, but she knows better. Just two nights before, he’d admitted (although it had taken quite a bit of persuasion on Aruna’s part) that he was mesmerized by the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Someone of drow lineage, kissed by the sun. It was a rare sight, and one Astarion hadn’t stumbled across in all his years before. “We both know you’ll grow bored before the sun even sets. They won’t play with you like I will.”

“Perhaps I’m not in the mood to play tonight, Astarion. Maybe I’m just looking for earnest conversation.”

He recoils slightly, faux disgust wrinkling his nose, “Earnest conversation? Ugh, spare me. You’ve truly been spending far too much time with Gale.”

If she were stronger, if she had just a bit more self-restraint, she would have held back her bark of laughter. But she’s not – she’s nothing more than molten putty when it comes to him, all her worst flaws exposed against her own will, and her head tilts back as she lets out a sound that nearly embarasses her to death. Something between a choked scoff and an orc-ish snort.

The sun is so bright at his back, she doesn’t notice the glimmer of something reflected. Not from the mirror, but from herself.

A brewing fondness bathed in the golden hour. A best kept secret that Astarion swears he’ll get a hold of, come Hells or high water.

It’s a good look. On both of them.

—

Aruna comes back to with a start, just as Shadowheart has yanked the branch from her side.

“Fuck!” she screams out instinctively, going to reach for the wound before Gale grabs her wrists. He manages to corral both her arms and press her back down, allowing the cleric who kneels in the mud beside her to properly look at the wound as her own hands glow with magic.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, my friend,” Gale quips, hardly breaking a sweat as he continues to fight against Aruna’s thrashing, “Thought we lost you there for a few seconds.”

Seconds? Aruna head pounds as though she had been out for days, not seconds. The same heaviness in her chest from when she’d been poisoned lingers now, making it exceptionally difficult for her to writhe in pain as her body was attempting to. Attempting to wriggle away from the pain, away from the thing that was technically helping her.

“What-” she gasps out, trying to steady herself, to stop moving. Another flash of Shadowheart’s magic has her crying out again, however, body twitching to its own accord, “What do you mean seconds?”

She grits the words out between grinding teeth, hands turning to fists as Gale refuses to relinquish his hold. She’d have to thank him later – she doesn’t know if she’d be capable of holding down one of them like this, even if it were clearly necessary, if they were grunting out in such severe pain as she was currently.

The entire right side of her body felt as though it was ablaze. Everything else had been thoroughly chilled, her teeth even attempting to chatter from the cold, but the heat that radiated from where she’d been stabbed persists.

“You passed out,” Gale explains as though it was obvious. He’s unaware of what she’s just experienced; he’s unaware of where exactly her mind had gone for those mere seconds. “Likely from the pain and blood loss, and surely the lack of oxygenation from almost drowning wasn’t helping. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation here, it seems,” he pauses and glances down at her as another strike of Shadowheart’s magic pulses into her. This time, only her face moves, twisting up into a wince, “I am truly sorry for the discomfort. It’ll be over soon. We just have to stop the bleeding of the wound, at the very least.”

She can feel the skin of the wound twisting and reforming, from the inside out. If it weren’t from the pain of the healing, she’d probably be able to notice the way her breaths were finally coming more easily to her.

“Right,” she manages to spit out as Shadowheart’s magic begins to wane once more, “Of course. Stop the bleeding. I can handle that.”

“I have healing potions back at camp,” Shadowheart mumbles through her concentration. She looks positively drained when Aruna dares to peep a quick look, paling with each passing second that she uses more of her magic, “If I can just-”

“Am I still bleeding?” Aruna asks suddenly.

Shadowheart looks up, eyes wide, albeit a bit dull, “You’re… No. The bleeding has mostly stopped.”

“Great. Then let’s go to camp.”

She doesn’t want the half-elf wasting any more precious magic on her than necessary. They’d return back to where they could rest, she’d take one healing potion from Shadowheart (and not a drop more), and she could see if a restless night’s sleep might do the trick.

If she could just walk, it would all be fine. Surely time could heal this wound.

“Are you sure about that, soldier?” a new voice sounds from above Aruna, and the dizzying deja vu that had incapacitated her to the point of falling returns. This time, thankfully, it doesn’t affect her nearly as detrimentally, “I just- That stab looked pretty gnarly. You might want to let the healer do her thing before-”

“Karlach.”

Aruna isn’t sure how she knows the tiefling’s name, but the moment her eyes land on her, it simply comes to her. The flames still idly lapping at the warrior’s skin, her uneven horns as one curls fully over her head of hair and the other has clearly been broken off. She knows this force of a woman – she’d seen this woman in that goddamn memory that had stolen away precious seconds in the here and now.

Wyll looks painfully guilty as he stands a few feet away from her.

“This was the woman from your visions,” Aruna attempts to cover up her recognition easily, and everyone seemingly buys it, “This… this was the devil you were chasing?”

“The past tense there is very important, my friend,” Wyll insists, swallowing hard and glancing at Karlach again, “She’s… Well, she’s no devil.”

“Make no mistake, it was an honour to be chased down by the Blade of Frontiers, but-” Karlach excitedly begins, but Aruna only softly smiles as she cuts her off.

“No need to explain yourself,” Aruna somehow knows more than she should. But if every other encounter was the blueprint for this one, surely they had all seen the truth. If Karlach was still standing there, unharmed, Wyll having resigned his hunt – they knew she was a friend, “I’m Aruna. Nice to meet you. Although, I wish we had met under… better circumstances.”

“Oh,” Karlach laughs, almost nervously, as she waves a hand through the air, “Please. No better time than the here and now, yeah? Plus, you’ve effectively proved yourself to be a certified badass from the get-go, soldier.”

Soldier. A cute nickname, but Aruna’s brows crease together regardless.

“Soldier?” she questions aloud, slowly sitting up and ignoring the nearly unbearable pain in her side. Nearly being the key word.

She’d deal with it. She was the one who had idiotically fallen into the river, and she’d deal with the consequences. Maybe next time she won’t run across the slippery log.

Karlach freezes up a bit, eyes darting around to the other companions worriedly, “I, uh, yeah. I don’t know. Like I said, that branch looked gnarly. Only a soldier could take a beating like that and still insist on walking it off.”

Aruna has to bite back a simultaneous grin and tears. There’s something comforting about Karlach, something that makes Aruna want to cling to her side. To be the shadow rather than the leader for once.

“You learn to walk it off when you’ve been as clumsy as I’ve been,” Aruna shrugs, turning to look at a still very pale Shadowheart, “Say, Wyll, could you help Shadowheart up? We don’t need any more of us falling into this water. It’s fucking freezing.”

Wyll’s clearly startled, looking between the two women, “Shadowheart? What about you-”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

They wanted a leader – they needed a leader. And Aruna had been assigned that role whether she liked it or not. As long as she held the title, the only person who would be getting injured due to her own stupidity would be herself.

No more shrugging at the thought of them dying due to them choosing her as their leader, it seems.

“Are you sure you can even walk?” Gale stammers, rising quickly when he notices Aruna beginning to lift herself out of the shallow water they were gathered in, “Please be careful-”

“Stop hovering, Gale, and just help me up,” she insists, holding out a hand for him to grab.

Shadowheart doesn’t even have the energy to argue as Wyll appears at her side, letting her lean some of her weight on him.

Aruna’s guilt is far, far heavier than her armor now.

“Shall we?” she mumbles, looking to the ground in shame, trying to hold most of her own weight even as Gale willingly offers his arm for her to cling onto. She only looks up to glance Karlach’s way, forcing another kind smile through all her pain, “You should join us, y’know. If you’ve got one of those worms in your head.”

“I-” Karlach’s eyes shift to look off into the distance, back towards the path they had taken to find her, but clearly looking a bit beyond it, “I’d love to. I really would, but I’ve got some business I need to take care of. Some goons are tracking me and-”

“We can help,” Aruna offers before Karlach even asks such a thing of them. And she can imagine Astarion’s bristling, his sigh and roll of his eyes, his voice whispering of her bleeding heart, “Join us at camp, let us rest up a bit, and we can come back and send those assholes back to wherever they came from.”

Electricity runs along the outskirts of Aruna’s mind, purple sparks coming to life as Gale grips onto her arm to steady her.

Just like that? He asks through the tadpole. You’re going to offer our help, just like that?

If it had been Astarion, the question would have been laced with judgment.

But Aruna doesn’t find a hint of it in Gale’s voice, merely shock as he looks to her with wide eyes. She’d even dare to say that she saw admiration behind those shades of umber.

Just like that, she confirms silently, looking patiently to Karlach for a response. She needs help. I want to help.

Aruna has plenty wrong with her. She has a head full of holes, gaping wounds not visible to the others that haunt her every hour of every day. She has a mysterious letter in her pack, insisting that she saves one of their dear companions. She has daggers that she can hardly use, she has a worm in her head that has become the least of her worries, and she has a bleeding heart.

She is a kind fool. And, all things considered, it’s probably the thing that is least wrong with her in this exact moment.

She’s going to help Karlach. Just as she promised Lae’zel, just as she had promised Wyll. If there is nothing else she can do for this world, she can do that.

Our fearless leader, indeed, Gale hums through the mental connection. In her peripherals, Aruna catches the glimpse of a soft yet proud smile.

Your kind fool, more like it.

Karlach is oblivious to the silent conversation, and finally secedes with a deep breath, “Ah, what the hell. Lead the way, soldier.”

Aruna is becoming awfully fond of the nickname.

—

They hear Astarion before they see him.

“What in the Hells did you do to her?”

His words are pure venom, and Aruna can feel the fear that strikes within Gale when he freezes up at her side. The chill from being soaked by the river had been seemingly only affecting Aruna, who’s teeth had chattered the entire way as they backtracked to where they’d originally found the dog. But she swears, as Astarion catches sight of them as he rises from the corpse of Scratch’s previous owner, a shiver runs up the wizard’s spine.

“They didn’t do anything,” Aruna says. The stab wound still ached terribly, and breathing still wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but she had no doubt she’d make it back to camp. She might end up collapsing, unable to move again until tomorrow, but she’d certainly make it back, “I was just a clumsy fool and fell into the river.”

Aruna hadn’t realized just how much she missed Astarion during the days he’d avoided her until he’s right in front of her, eyes blazing and fangs nearly peaking out as he snarls at Gale, hands already reaching for his daggers. He may be a terrifying sight to everyone else, but not to her. His presence instantly soothes, leaving the shooting pain in her side to fade out of existence for just a moment.

But she doesn’t have time to linger on the calming effect.

The moment she catches sight of him unsheathing his weapons, she forces herself in front of Gale, albeit a bit wobbly.

“Astarion,” she snaps, holding out a hand as the other instinctually clutches to her injured side. Not a smart idea, as it brings back the pain, “Put the daggers away. Now.”

“I leave these fools to keep you alive for a few days, and suddenly, you nearly die – again,” Astarion snaps, stopping just shy of her palm, gaze shifting between herself and the cowering wizard, “I should have known bett-”

“You’re not my keeper,” she calmly reminds him, acutely aware of Shadowheart’s look that screams I told you so. The rogue is more furious than Aruna had witnessed in all their travels, nearly feral, “And I didn’t die. I survived. Gale saved me. If anything, you should be thanking him.”

She isn’t quite sure why Astarion would be thanking Gale. Astarion wasn’t her keeper – he didn’t have some ridiculous letter telling him to keep Aruna alive, as far as she was aware.

“Oh, my apologies,” he sneers, leveling a look to Gale, “Thank you so very much for keeping our precious leader alive, almighty wizard. What ever would we do without you doing the bare minimum?”

Our precious leader. Through all the sarcasm dripping from Astarion’s words, those somehow feel sincere.

But it might simply be the fact that now that he’s so close, all Aruna can feel is that lingering desperation clinging to him, all the fear sticking around like smoke in the air. His hands are twitching at his sides as they let go of the daggers, as though he might reach out for her any moment now.

“Bare minimum?” Gale squeaks out from behind her, “I understand you feel awfully protective of Aruna, but-”

“She’s the reason any of us are even alive. She’s the only reason we’ve made it this far.”

Aruna pales, “I don’t think-”

“Is she the reason we’re all alive?” Shadowheart weakly questions, taking a step closer as she glares at Astarion, “Or is she the reason you’re alive? I’d reckon you’re only terrified of losing the one person in this group who will actually tolerate you, willingly, Astarion.”

In an instant, Aruna loses all her patience. It’s only momentary, but she swears she sees red as her head whips towards the cleric, “Shadowheart.”

Her tone makes it clear she isn’t joking around – it’s a threat. Even through her chattering teeth, Aruna’s voice comes out strong and clear. It’s a warning for them all to tread extremely carefully with their next words.

Some of Astarion’s anger leaves him, face softening as he chooses to only focus on Aruna. He glances over her stoic face, but eventually, his attention is grabbed to her bloodied side that she still grips. She watches as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare immediately.

“You’re bleeding.”

Aruna is shocked it had taken him so long to notice. She’d assumed given his vampiric nature, he’d smell her blood instantaneously.

“Yes,” she deadpans, pressing a little harder on the wound, wincing only a little. Her hand is already turning sticky with her ichor, “Like I said, I fell.”

“And conveniently impaled yourself? Gods, the pain I felt, that’s-” Astarion cuts himself off, still staring in disbelief at the wound, “Let me see it.”

“No.”

“Aruna-”

“Astarion,” she parrots back, leaving no room for discussion, “We need to just return to camp. I just need to rest. I’m fine, we’re all fine. As long as you all stop trying to bite each other’s heads off, at least.”

With each word, her voice is becoming more breathy, increasingly aware of the depths of her wounds yet. Shadowheart may have healed her enough to guarantee she won’t drop dead, but there’s certainly still a chance for her to pass out if they don’t get a move on.

Surprisingly, Astarion only nods at that, finally looking back up to her eyes as he takes a step forward. His hands reach out, and she can see them shaking.

It’s probably just from the blood. It’s been days since he last fed, that Aruna is aware of, and the comedown had no doubt been more intense considering he’d just had his first taste of a thinking creature’s blood.

“I can walk,” she insists when she realizes he’s offering to take over from Gale as her crutch.

“You can hardly stand.”

“I can walk.”

This latest memory returned more than just knowledge to Aruna. Something more had been returned to her – a spark of fire that hadn’t been there before now rests in her chest, a flicker of who she once was. Headstrong, stubborn, determined. She feels less like a poor wandering soul. She’s more sure, and more staunchly independent, than before.

Slowly but surely, the puzzle that is herself is coming back to Aruna. She feels like a person now, not a mere ghost.

A person, a leader, someone who can hold her own. The last thing she wants to do is cling desperately to anybody else, to accept any help that might portray her as weak. Because she wasn’t – she couldn’t be – if she had to lead these people. And certainly not if she kept getting into these near-death experiences.

“Gods, you’re stubborn,” Astarion grumbles. It’s a slow switch, but she notices it then; the more Astarion spoke directly to her, the softer he grew. He didn’t offer her the same ferocity that he’d thrown at the others. Shadowheart’s earlier observations are painfully loud in her mind as she realizes it.

His hands drop, but he’s no less stiff as he moves to the side, letting her begin to walk, to lead them all further down the path.

She’s quick to notice the way he returns to his rightful place at her side.

Her shadow. For better or for worse, it seems.

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi @notthisagainpls @chaoticbardlady99 @animated-unicorn

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #the moon will sing #overprotective astarion to the point of it being ooc my beloved

22 notes · View notes

galaxycunt · 6 months

Text

I Can’t Keep Crying pt 6

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

Andddd it’s done! I might play around with this story some more but thank you all who have left comments and likes and just read it in silence ily ur so awesome send in the clowns

When you were probably way too young, and before she died, your mother wanted you to marry someone who could make you comfortable. She married for love, and all that got her was a husband away at sea for months at a time only to be killed by pirates. The boy down the street was studying to be a doctor, you felt her funeral needed to proceed a wedding. You would feel guilty otherwise.

When that got too hard, you set sail with a Marine, an officer even. You convinced him to let you on his ship, who left you to pirates when you were raided. You flirted with death more than lovers after that one, hopping around crews, never feeling comfortable.

When you met Buggy, it was an inn like the one you were in now, you heard about him though he didn’t impress you much. The get up was ridiculous, the nose too off putting to take seriously. He had some goons with him, taking up space at the bar. He wasn’t flirting with you, but with another woman. A woman who left the door open after making her exit.

Slipping in his room was easy, stealing enough berries to find passage with another ship. You felt this town was getting old, an adventure waiting somewhere else for you. You should have known your heist was too easy, a buggy ball knocking you out soon after.

”No one steals from Buggy The Clown.”

That was so long ago, being with him was the longest time you served under anyone. Not even your marriages lasted this long. You weren’t sure how to feel about it now. Buggy could probably charm your mother, she would pray for any child to take your features instead.

You were in love with the pirate captain currently beside you, after being inside you. God, you really loved him. Buggy gazed into your eyes like he could find the meaning of life in them. You could tell he hardly believed you were there, let alone that you loved him.

”Remember when we met?”

He smiled, “how could I forget? Not every day someone robs me.”

”Why did you let me live? Or join?”

He blushed, “I fall in love easily, what can I say? I don’t do slow and subtle.”

”You really don’t.”

You remembered the wound he gave you before you threw his money back at him. You knew when to fight and when to scrape by to live another day. Pirates liked a girl who was desperate enough to keep breathing.

“Security detail, you’re such a funny bullshitter.”

”Geez, sorry I didn’t want my future boyfriend chopping my head off.”

”Wait, really?”

You grin sheepishly, “well, no I wasn’t thinking that at the time.”

”Oh, when did you?”

”Like a couple of weeks before we fucked. At least what I was hoping for, you big flirt.”

He traced circles in your skin, finger roaming around your waist and hip. You hoped you didn’t upset him, that crush was bound to happen anyway. Falling for Buggy was inevitable.

“I mean, I always thought you were cute. You’re my boss, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Authority is hot and all that shit.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, you think back to the other men in you life, did they kiss you like this?

No, they didn’t. Not like this, Buggy was all in. No holding back.

“Remember when you saved me during the storm?”

You didn’t know about the devil fruit, not until a week or so into sailing with him. Buggy was always an excellent sailor, managing the sails with grace amongst the chaos. Showing the decades of experience, as easy as breathing. Until a wave hit him, causing him to tumble off the rope ladder he was on.

You were the first one to grab him, his body going limp. You stayed with him as you dragged him off to his cabin, unsure of what else to do. Drying him off, only for him to spring back into action like nothing happened. A wink and a blown kiss as he ran off to help his crew.

“That’s when I fell for you,” he whispered.

“Really? That soon?”

He shrugged, “when you know, you know.”

You felt like an asshole, the way you been unknowingly playing with his feelings. You hoped he didn’t hold it against you, and yet you wanted to just know it all. You were probably a little selfish that way.

”Did you mean it? That you’d say yes?” his voice faltered, filled with anxiety.

Your hands felt clammy, “yeah. You gotta do it right though, surprise me.”

He smiled, “I’m gonna dazzle your pants off.”

You smacked him playfully, “oh shut up.”

”You’re marrying this, so you can’t be that mad at me!”

”I ain’t marrying you yet.”

”But you will.”

”I will.”

His face fell into an easy smile, enveloping you in his arms. You had to let it happen, he wasn’t going to hurt you. You had to believe that.

You kissed his eyes, cheeks, lips, neck. Over and over, your body tingling with desire. Your mind turned over moments in your past; like when Buggy first taught you to throw knives, when he turned red as a tomato the first time you measured his body, the little pranks he pulled on you using his powers. You loved him in so many different ways.

”It was when you gave that kid some money.”

”What?”

”You did it once, we were in some village, it took me by surprise. No offense, you’re pretty greedy.”

He laughed, “I’m not that bad am I?”

“No, but it was just interesting. Different.”

He hummed in thought, and you wondered if you said the wrong thing. He kissed your knuckles, easing your worried face.

“I been married before. Two times.”

”That’s okay.”

You nodded, “let’s wait. Until the Grand Line. Find a nice quiet island.”

”Let me worry about all that, okay?”

”Yeah.”

Buggy looked at you with a fire in his eyes, scheming and plotting. It excited you, you were really doing this. Third times the charm right? And why the hell not? You did the legit route, a doctor, an officer, and a pirate. A captain even.

It was the stuff of trashy romance novels, a swashbuckling scoundrel who only had a soft side for you. That was Buggy alright, flashy and larger than life. You had one more question, deciding in your head which possible answer you’d like better.

”Where’d you get the ring?”

He laughed, “some bozo took it off his wife and threw it at me, remember that fancy schmancy ship with the gold stairs?”

That was a good haul, you still had the ruby encrusted ashtray. You did like this answer, after all. Why put on airs?

“It really does suit my style, she had taste. Well, for the most part.”

You let the wedding talk go, going back to talking about nothing. Things the ship needs, clothes you wanted to buy. You felt silly, when you thought about the lead up to this moment. You both could’ve been here a long time ago, but maybe that was a good thing.

You weathered the storm, coming out the other side stronger than ever. Buggy was your lifeline, your safe harbor. He was truly, the man of your dreams.

#buggy the clown #one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy one piece

51 notes · View notes

boxfullaturtles · 1 year

Photo

tbh been sitting on this for months and was intending to post the characters together, but no one else is finished yet so here, take him

Kingdom Hearts Rise AU

Leonardo Hamato The self-designated Face Man of the group, he’s all smiles, charm, and wit. His charisma might be lacking in certain areas, but he knows how to please a crowd and he’s more clever than he gives himself credit for. He tends to get reckless during battle, either to show off or because his ego got the better of him. This has gotten him into trouble several times and it’s only the good graces of his brothers that have saved him. His battle style relies on speed and exploiting his opponent’s blind spots, keeping out of range until he rapidly closes the distance with his foe, delivers a devastating strike, and pulls back again.

Keyblade: Arc Hope A highly unusual Keyblade with its own special effect. It provides a balanced boost in Strength and Magic. Strength: +5 Magic: +5 Length: Medium Ability: Portal Chopped: A unique ability that allows the Keyblade to split into two separate blades.

[extra details under cut]

Team Attacks: + Michelangelo: Primetime Team up with Mikey, trap enemies in a cage of chains and portals, finishing them off with an explosion of fire and lightning.

+ Raphael: Odachi Bomb Team up with Raph and wield a gigantic sword made of energy from atop his shoulders, end by getting launched into the air and crashing into stunned foes.

+ Donatello: Disaster Duo Team up with Donnie, auto-lock onto nearby enemies and bury them under barrages of missiles, ending by dropping a huge bomb on them.

+ April: Thrill Seeker Team up with April and rapidly attack nearby enemies with a flurry of blows, finish them off with a blast of combined magic.

+ Casey: Hope Team up with Casey to summon pillars of light that shoot out of the ground around the battlefield, stunning any enemy that isn’t instantly destroyed.

------

More stuff about KH Rise Leo:

- He is the fastest of his teammates, moving so quickly he often appears to teleport in a streak of blue light. Moves significantly slower in water.

- Arc Hope sounds like silver bells when it strikes enemies and its particle effects are blue stars and lightning bolts. The runes on it pulse with a soft, blue light. Before the Fall sounds like swords clashing when it strikes, and its particle effects are red starbursts. After the Rise sounds like chimes when it strikes enemies and its particle effects are little baubles that flicker with the brothers’ colors. The pieces representing each of Leo’s brothers will occasionally glow softly and that light with travel up the blue lightning until it fades at the spikes.

- Leo is capable of making portals in this AU. Eventually, he becomes strong enough and gets good enough with them that he can use his portals to travel between worlds without the aid of a Gummi Ship.

- Raph made him wear the Power Band.

- Actually the worst about maintaining “world order” and regularly screws things up.

- Not allowed to drive the Turtle Tank Gummi Ship. He did once. Donnie almost skinned him alive afterwards.

- Still the team medic in the sense that he’s always got a surplus of Potions and Elixirs on hand. Also bandaids and neosporin for scrapes and cuts. He’s not great at Cure magic, but he knows how to cast it if he needs to.

- Doesn’t actually used the Portal Chopped ability a whole lot. He’s not overly fond of Before the Fall and is still struggling a lot with the concept that where there is Light, there must also be Darkness. He’s really got it in his head that Darkness equals Bad, and having a representation of Darkness (the Krang) as part of his Keyblades hurts and confuses him.

- Besides, he can’t abuse the hell out of his Portal Fever Command Style when Portal Chopped is active. And he does like to show off.

[ask me about him and the au I will talk about it all day]

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #tmnt #tmnt leo #kh rise au #i was originally gonna try and post everyone at once but like #i've been sitting on this for months so just. here. just take him.#sage draws turtles

115 notes · View notes

pantpisser9000 · 5 months

Text

Combined together, Chapter 3: Scientist & Medic

Shellington’s finals were next week. So, obviously, he was studying. A lot. Downing another coffee, black, (despite the fact that he actually enjoyed having an overabundance of cream and milk in it) because he needed to stay awake for this. He reviewed his notes again, skimming them over, then jotting down the answer to that next question. His handwriting was messy, and barely legible. At least he could read it. He was lucky that his mother had taught him and Pearl how to read and write so young, he knew a lot of sea creatures didn’t do that.

He had lived in that kelp forest for a while. It’d been a hot minute since he’d been, though, since he was staying at his college dorm. It was honestly unfortunate Pearl couldn’t go to college, unless she wanted those stupid urchins to take over. Shellington sighed–he really wished he could help, given the allergy though? He simply couldn’t.

Pearl was really his saving grace. She had practically acted as a mother since their real one died, and hell was she suited for it. She had always been overboundingly supportive and had encouraged Shellington to go for his dreams in marine biology in the first place! And he obviously could not let her down, so, here he was. Downing coffee after coffee, staying up to ungodly times, and scraping by to get good grades. Closing the book, he was finished, and he hoped all the effort he’d been putting in this past week would be worth it.

Actually worth it. He wanted to make discoveries, get out into the world! Sure, he was lucky one of his professors was really quite wonderful–the guy took them out to the ocean to ‘get a real feel for it’ a few times, but he still wanted to really get out there. Come across a new creature! Re-discover one they had previously thought was extinct! Something besides wandering around (and tripping) tide pools, examining things that while interesting, were nothing new.

Of course, all sea-creatures fascinated Shellington–while he wasn’t really one for the whole ‘hybrid-research’, as he was more concerned with the actual creatures that were hybridized with humans, all of it was utterly interesting. But, he knew he couldn’t really do that unless he did well in school. So far, most of his grades had been As or Bs, which satisfied him. Occasionally, he wondered if he was good enough. Then he thought of what Pearl would say to that, and he let it go.

Didn’t mean he didn’t have a panic attack or two, of course. Usually one per month or two. It had been getting slightly worse and a tad more frequent given how he wasn’t around Pearl nearly as much, as she had helped with said attacks whenever they rarely appeared. He was just hoping, once he got an actual job, (that wasn’t just an internship or out-of-class experiment or experience) that he’d be all fine and dandy. Or at the very least he’d be able to deal with his panic attacks by himself.

He hopped into bed, making sure his phone was set to alarm him 4 times–usually the first two didn’t work, and he just fell back asleep after slapping it off, and the extra one was a precaution at best. He put on his nightcap, closed his eyes, and fell asleep quickly. He was just glad he actually made it to his bed this time. He had a bad habit of falling asleep at his desk, after all.

The next morning, he awoke to the blaring of his alarm, and he shut it off, falling back asleep, turning over. “5 more minutes, mom…” he mumbled, and another alarm went off a minute or two later. He shut that one off too, groaning. Finally, at the third alarm, he got out of bed, canceling the fourth one before it went off, too. He slipped on his backpack, quickly surveyed to make sure he had everything, and walked out of his tiny dorm.

He went to class, and surprisingly, there was someone there who he didn’t recognize. He surveyed it was a clearly older man, given the wrinkles and the lack of hair ontop of his head. He reminded Shellington of the monopoly man–with the mustache and monocle. He sat down, placing his bag down. Once class started–the man began speaking.

“Hello, my name is Professor Inkling.” he stated, gesturing to himself. “I have come to this college because, well, I am starting a sort of… not company, but expedition. It’s a long-term job, though. And I need a marine biologist.” he said, and Shellington blinked, this was a little surprising. Another student raised her hand–Shellington couldn’t really recall her name, something like Rhubarb or Regina, though. Started with R, at least. “What kinda expedition is it? Set in one place or moving around?” she asked, and Inkling smiled.

“I’m glad you asked….” he motioned for her to give her name, but she didn’t. At least until she realized people were looking at her. “Oh, uh, Ruby.” she replied hastily, and the Professor continued, “I’m glad you asked, Ruby. You see, if you want to join this, it’s a project that focuses on.. Well, the slogan Captain Barnacles came up with was ‘Explore, Rescue, Protect’. It’s about those three things, all while living underwater in a submarine. As a marine biologist, you’ll be able to experiment and study quite a lot, as well as providing information about the creatures the people down there are hybridized with.”

Shellington was in awe–this idea sounded wonderful! And exactly what he had wanted. Being able to have access to equipment and tell everyone about creatures was exactly what he wanted to do–and he was helping the ocean! It was perfect for him. He’d feel bad about leaving Pearl, but he technically already had, for college. Plus, he was certain he’d be able to visit, given how she lived in the kelp forest, and he could say he was studying it.

He was excited. “If you’re interested, please approach me after class. I’ll be helping out as an assistant until your graduation, to get to know you all, after graduation I’ll start some interviews.” he said, and Shellington knew exactly this was what he wanted to do–he needed to prepare! But, not right now, as the usual professor had come back into the room and had begun speaking already. He began to jot down note after note, even though his thoughts were mainly consumed by what Inkling had said.

After class, he immediately approached Inkling. He was a little surprised only one other person did as well, someone who he wasn’t even sure what the first letter of their name was. But then he thought about it–people probably didn’t want to leave their families, their lives to live in a random old professor’s submarine, even if it presented wonderful research opportunities. Shellington was somewhat happy that he wouldn’t have too much competition, though. Hopefully he could impress the Professor enough to let him on the ship.

The other person in front of him left after a quick chat, so now it was the part-sea-otter’s turn. “Hello,” the Professor greeted, and Shellington, sweaty palms pressed together, greeted him back. “Hello, Professor- my name’s Shellington.” he said, and Inkling held out a hand. “Wonderful to meet you, Shellington.” Shellington smiled, before realizing the professor was expecting him to shake his hand, and he shook it quickly. The Professor seemed a little amused, but didn’t say anything about it. “I- I know you’re not doing interviews yet, but I just wanna say I really want to join your expedition!” he enthusiastically clamored. “I’m certainly glad you’re so excited”, the Professor said, and Shellington wasn’t really completely sure if he meant it sarcastically or not, he took it as a compliment, though. He smiled, nodded, and walked out of the room, and he just hoped he didn’t screw that up. He didn’t think he did–he was showing he was passionate, right? On the other hand, (or paw) Inkling could consider that a bad thing or even just Shellington trying to suck up to him, which was not his intent.

He decided to not think of it any longer, instead prompting to go to a little cafe nearby–he figured he could hopefully get some work done there. Sitting down, he pulled his computer out of his backpack, turned it on, grabbed his notes, and got to work. He ordered a coffee–complete with all of the whipped cream and sprinkles he could muster, and to the point where it probably couldn’t even be considered coffee–, and jot down some notes. The cafe was practically full, there weren't really any one-person seats left. It made sense, it was popular for students given the obnoxiously cheap prices and its close proximity to the college.

Shellington didn’t notice the girl who was confusedly wandering around, clearly unaware what a hotspot this place was. He did notice when she approached. “Hey, so sorry, but.. Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, and Shellington blinked–he was surprised she approached him of all people. “N-No, not at all.” he flushed at the stutter. He wasn’t one to do that most of the time, so it caught him a little off guard too. Probably since she was pretty sudden, at least to Shellington himself. He looked a little closer at the girl–braids looped, almost resembling ears, a pink and yellow clip on her curtain-bang esc hair, (but cornrows) tan-to-dark skin–he didn’t even remotely recognize her. “I’ve never seen you on campus before,” he said, and she laughed a little.

“Oh, probably because I don’t go here. I’m actually a flight attendant–at least for the next two weeks–and I’m just staying here until tomorrow.” Shellington had a feeling there was a tad more explanation, but he didn’t press. “Wait, next two weeks?” he questioned. “Yup. It’s my two weeks notice, as I got a better job. They’ve been having me on flights at least once per day-yesterday I had two.” she laughed a little, though Shellington didn’t really get the joke.

“Ohh, I see.” he simply said, nodding. “I’m just studying marine biology at the campus here–it’s really quite fascinating, I always had an interest in it.” he told her, and she blinked. “Marine Biology? Oh, that’s why.. Okay, that makes sense. Well, I wish you luck with all of that.” Shellington smiled. “I’m graduating super soon, as well. I’m just hoping to land this one job, there aren’t many other candidates, at least to my knowledge, so I think I have a good chance.” he said, and then asked the girl something again. “Well, I have two questions to you; one, what’s your name?” he asked, and she responded, “Dashi. Yours?”

“Shellington.”

“That’s a nice name. What’s your second question?”

Wow, straight to the point. Shellington thought.

“What’s your new job, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m not supposed to talk too much about it, but my role is IT work, and photography.”

“Woah, you take pictures? If you don’t mind, can I see?” he asked.

“Sure!”

Dashi pulled some things out of her little backpack, spreading them out in front of Shellington. “Jumping jellyfish! You’re so talented!” he exclaimed, and Dashi looked at him a little strangely. “Jumping… Jellyfish?” she asked, and Shellington elaborated quickly. “Ah, it’s a- what’s it called, exclamation? Something my sister came up with a while ago. We both say it.” he explained, and Dashi nodded. “Is she a marine biologist, too?” she inquired, and Shellington shook his head.

“No, no. Not specifically–she just kinda considers herself a ‘scientist’ in general. But, uh, we’re both part sea otter. Lived in, slash near, a kelp forest for a while. So, we saw jellyfish, and eventually… she came up with that, I caught on, and the rest is history.” he finished, and Dashi nodded. “I’m assuming she’s an older sister? I have a younger one.”

Shellington nodded. “Yup. Not by much, though. Certainly not my twin, though, even if we get mistaken for such a lot.” “Oh, that never happens with me and Koshi–she’s quite a bit younger than me, and we don’t look too alike.” she said. Shellington took a sip out of his drink, “What’d you get?” Dashi asked, and Shellington looked up from his work. This conversation is still going? Oops. “It’s.. pretty much just a milkshake with coffee. I wanted something sweeter because I don’t need to drown myself in black coffee out of drowsiness at the moment.” he explained, and Dashi nodded.

“I just got hot cocoa. Never really been one for coffee, I suppose.” she said, shrugging.. “Very unrelated,” Shellington started, “and this is incredibly sudden and I expect if you don’t have the time, but.. Would… well, I have a project, and I need pictures. I’m going to the kelp forest, adn while I was planning on getting older pictures, it’d be nice to get newer ones as well. Compare and contrast, I suppose. And, again, I don’t expect you to bu-”

Dashi interrupted him. “I’ll do it. When are you going over?” she asked, and Shellington blinked. He honestly wasn’t really expecting her to accept, though it was certainly very very welcome. “Well, the plan was around seven, but I could go an hour or two if that works better for you.” he said, and Dashi nodded. “I can make seven work.” she said, nodding to herself. “I’ve got some stuff to do before then, though, gotta go soon to work on some training stuff. So, where should we meet?” she asked, and Shellington thought to himself. “The library on campus. I can’t exactly expect you to know where the kelp forest is, after all.” Dashi nodded. “Sounds good. See you then!” she said, standing up and waving goodbye to him. Shellington was just happy he’d be able to improve the quality of his project–it’d really be wonderful. Deciding that he was going to work on his project a little more before his next class. He just felt like working on it in the cafe, for now, as he didn’t want to move all his stuff when he was already sketching.

He wanted to get this assignment done, after all. He wanted to draw–he’d always enjoyed sketching (full) sea creatures, even if he couldn’t draw much else. Even if most sea creatures stayed in primarily human/almost mermaid ish forms. Never could draw people, or mechanics all too well. He could make a drawing look like most land animals, it always looked a little off though. Especially since at this moment, practically all land animals were almost entirely human, most of the time, so it was hard to get references. Nevertheless, he finished within an hour or two, and pulled out his little notepad/sketchbook.

Sketching practically any animal he could think of for another 15 or 40 minutes, (he couldn’t keep track of time all that well, and when he checked it, it had actually been 37 minutes. Huh.) he eventually decided to pack up and leave. He’d been there a while, and his next class was starting in about a hour Until then, he decided that going to the library to pass the time–he’d set a timer on his phone, so that way he wouldn’t be late. Hopefully.

Shuffling his backpack on his shoulders, tossing the remains of his drink in the trash, and walking to the library, he situated himself with a nonfiction book about the migration patterns of orcas. It was an older book, given how it was full orcas instead of hybridized ones, but that was part of the appeal. It was interesting to see the difference before and after the hybridization. Most orcas nowadays were again, akin to mermaids. Orca tail, more humanoid torso and head, though some opted for having fins for arms and all of them still had sharp, sharp teeth. Could still easily rip and tear, and obviously, that wasn’t really their fault. Circle of life and all that.

Of course, that was a lot less normalized above the surface, as artificial meat was pretty popular. It wasn’t seen as bad below–well, besides for the predators next meal–as that was how it was. If a sea creature wasn’t content staying in the ocean, they could train themselves to become more human and go on land, instead. People, well more so companies, liked the cheap labor they provided, as well as help with all of the pools and other water-related components. Most sea creatures, after a long while of being used to being practically fully human, were able to handle fresh water for short periods of time.

Shellington finished the book quickly. It was fascinating, of course, but it was basically a review. He knew all of this. In fact, he probably knew everything from the marine biology section–he’d been practically obsessed with marine biology for a long time. He looked at the alarm–two minutes left. He decided to just close it and walk over earlier, until he realized he had not eaten Breakfast nor lunch. Walking into a fast food place, he ordered some hash browns, sprinted out, hashbrown in his mouth (you know those scenes where it's like an anime girl with toast in her mouth? Imagine that with Shellington and hash browns.) as he silently ate them outside the door to the class, tossed the container in the trash can, and walked into the room. He wasn’t late, at least.

Taking a seat, he got ready to ‘learn’ more information he already knew.

—

After class, he was able to talk a little to Inkling, which made him happy. “My project’s on kelp, urchins, and since I'm part sea otter, us.” he told Inkling, showing Inkling the slides he had prepared. “Do you think I should change anything? I think it’s good, but I'm not quite sure. Of course, it’s not done, though.” he asked, and Inkling looked impressed. “It’s utterly brilliant–you’re very talented, Shellington. You clearly know what you’re talking about, as well. I’m very excited to see this project finished, when you present it.” he told Shellington, and he felt his cheeks get a little pink. He wasn’t used to being complemented by anyone, except Pearl and when she was around, his mother.

“Ah, thank you, Professor. I’m excited, too.” he said, playing with his hands. Habit, of sorts. “Of course, Shellington. I am being honest, you know.” and after that, the Professor rolled away, and Shellington smiled, getting back to work. He was going to go to the kelp forest later that day, ask Pearl for some pictures or for the file or something, and let Dashi take some new ones.

Walking to the library, arriving at 6:58. Dashi arrived at the dot at 7:00pm exactly. “Hey, Shellington. I’m ready–I have my wetsuit on under this, and I brought my camera. It’s waterproof, don’t worry.” Shellington nodded, adjusting his leather satchel. It was falling apart, a little, but he didn’t want to bring his backpack for school. This was.. A little more.. Not expendable, it was special to him, (and he actually preferred it over said backpack, it just couldn’t hold all of his school supplies, especially not his computer.) just if it took a dip in the water or just a little scratched up, it’d be okay.

Eventually they arrived, sand sinking a little under his and Dashi’s feet.

Shellington did wish the satchel was waterproof, though. He decided to just put it under a rock, for safekeeping. He dipped his feet in the water, slowly wading in, until the water was up to his waist. He looked at his hands, now his fingers connected by webbing, and he had no reason to not assume his feet were the same. Feeling the swishing water around him, he felt the fur sprout out of his legs, and a tail swishing around behind him. “Dashi, do you mind staying up here for now?” he asked, and Dashi shook her head. “I wanted to take some pictures of the beach itself, anyways.” Shellington nodded. Diving down, looking for Pearl, his eyes adjusted quickly to the salty water, and he knew his ears were now more on the sides of his head rather than where they usually would be. He sniffed the water, before circling back upwards and popping out on the surface of the water, his head above.

Looking out over the vast sea of kelp, he didn’t see her. He knew he’d have to search for a while, given how easy it was to hide in the forest. But he also could just wait and see until he saw her head poke out from under the water. It did feel nice to be back in the water, though, so he also wanted to just search around underwater. Waiting for a moment, he dove back in, weaving his way through the kelp, until he saw a brown tail and followed it up, and soon, he was face-to-face with his favorite person.

His sister. “Pearl!” he exclaimed, and she, back, “Shellington?” she said, confusion enthralling her. “Yes, sudden visit, I know.” he explained, and Pearl motioned over to a rock. “Let’s sit.” she suggested, and Shellington nodded as they swam over.

Pearl didn’t look too different. She still had the yellow headband–it was her favorite color, after all–-and her hair was still a short bob, and her sea otter ears, tail, and her webbed hands were prominent. It made sense, she was in the forest a lot of the time. Besides, when she went to the surface to study briefly–she did it often, but she never left the forest unattended for too long. Didn’t want to let those pesky urchins take over, after all.

Shellington felt a wave of guilt wash over him–she was the only one taking care of the forest, and he couldn’t. Pearl seemed to tell, though, and when they clamored onto the rock, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Hey. I know what you’re thinking–don’t.” she demanded, and Shellington blinked in surprise, but he supposed his sister did know him well, and he knew her very well. It shouldn’t be a surprise that she’d be able to tell when guilt came over him, especially since it had happened a lot in their youth.

He wished he could have kids, but he couldn’t risk spreading that annoying allergy to them. At the same time, he wasn’t sure if he was exactly fit for being a father, plus, he didn’t have a partner. Nor boyfriend or girlfriend, just nothing. He hoped Pearl found someone, she didn’t mind being alone.. She deserved someone, if she wanted someone. Shellington knew not everyone was interested in romance or.. More. He knew he was, he’d seen a cute boy or girl a few times.

“So, why’d you come?” Pearl asked, and Shellington snapped out of his barrage of thoughts. It was a bad habit, going on tangents inside his mind and forgetting anyone else was there. “Oh! Well, I’m working on a big, final project for college, and we’re… well, it’s supposed to be about something we’ve learned and to show some personal experiences if possible, and I figured.. Food chain stuff, you know? But, uh, I was wondering if you had any pictures of us when we were younger? Oh, and, uh, do you mind my friend that I met just earlier taking some of us? She’s on the beach right now.” Well, at least he had gotten the real question out at the end.

Pearl nodded. “Follow me, Shell. I’ll show you where the older ones are.” she said, tilting her head to motion to the water, and Shellington nodded. She dove in, and Shellington followed suit soon after. They weaved through the murky kelp, until they arrived at the beach, the pristine sand practically glistening. Shellington knew exactly where they were going– the cave.

Sea otters weren’t really particularly known to hide stuff away, (that was more of a small, land-tree mammal thing, squirrels did it a lot) Pearl and Shellington did, though. Well, it was more safe-keeping, because even though when they were younger they just stayed in or at least near the kelp forest, they needed somewhere.. Drier to keep their stuff. Like clothes, and in this case, photos. Technically, they had a waterproof camera and photos, but it wasn’t good. Most photos came out grainy and bad–so, they tried to take advantage of a regular camera, with non-water proof photos as much as they could.

Plus, they needed somewhere to just keep things. Couldn’t exactly keep everything on their person, after all. It’d be quite annoying if they did. They sauntered over to the small cave, and soon they were consumed by dimness. The light was still visible from outside, and Pearl pushed away a rock in front of one of the ‘drawers’, and pulled out some of the pictures. “I think I have some on my phone, too. I’ll send those to you.” she said, and Shellington smiled. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, and Pearl smiled softly too.

“And, I also came here because, you know, I wanted to sleep how we used to again. Because, um, while I’m not even a candidate, there’s.. This job.” Pearl’s ears perked up. “A job..? Elaborate, Shell” she requested, and he nodded. “Yes, I will, but for the other thing?”

Pearl grinned. “Of course ! I wouldn’t say no to my baby brother on an offer like that.” she said, ruffling his hair. Shellington flushed a little. “The job, though?” she asked again, and Shellington nodded. “Oh right yes that.. Basically, a guy, his name is Professor Inkling, came over to my college, because he’s looking for a marine biologist for his expedition! It’s really quite wonderful. We’d be able to travel all across the 5 oceans! And, only me and one other person wanted to do it, so I think.. I might get in. Hopefully.” “So, you’d be leaving Scotland?” she asked, and Shellington blinked. “Oh, um, yes. Is that alright?” he asked, and Pearl laughed. “You’re a grown man. Of course it’s alright, even if I’ll miss you.” she said, and Shellington quickly clarified, “Since you’re in the kelp forest, most of the time, though, and that’s obviously in the ocean, I’m certain I could visit more than an average crew member, on the excuse of.. Checking up on the kelp, I suppose?” he said, and Pearl nodded. “Already thinking ahead.” she commented, and Shellington chuckled.

“It’ll be getting dark soon. Wanna go take those pictures and then out into the forest, once more?” she requested, and Shellington giddily nodded. “Yes, that’s wonderful. Especially since.. If I do get accepted, which I hope I do… I might not be able to for a long time.” he said.

They walked over to Dashi, who waved. “Hello Shellington… and Shellington’s sister.” she said, unsure of Pearl’s name. “Pearl.” she responded to Dashi’s indirect question, and Dashi smiled. “That’s a pretty name. Now, what were you thinking about for the pictures, Shellington?” she asked, and Shellington thought for a moment. “Well, once of me and Pearl standing in front of the forest, probably…and, um, one of the kelp forest underwater, and maybe one of those two combined? And, if you can, one of us in the sleeping position.” Dashi nodded.

“Sounds good. The non-water one will be easiest to do first, so can you guys stand next to each other…” she pointed to an area near the water, but not in it. Shellington and Pearl nodded, walking over. Shellington didn’t really know what to do with his hands, so he just clasped them together, placing them in front of his hip area. Pearl had one hand on one hip,and was posing a lot better than Shellington himself. Dashi snapped a picture or two, before giving them a thumbs up. “These are great!” she praised. She took off her sweater and skirt, showing the wetsuit underneath. Pearl had looked a tad scared when she had done it without warning, but was obviously relieved when the wetsuit was shown. “Wait, Dashi. Before we get in the water, lemme give you my email so you can send me the pictures.”

“Oh, yes, good idea.” Dashi agreed, and she wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper that had been in her skirt. “Now, let’s get in.” she said, and both Shellington and Pearl nodded. Dashi carefully waded into the water, till she was up to her shoulders. “Pose as quick as you can, I can’t hold my breath as long as you guys.” she said, and the siblings gave her thumbs up, before diving down.

Dashi dipped under the surface, taking a picture of the kelp by itself and then motioning for Shellington and Pearl to come over, which they did, and Dashi was thankful. She wasn’t a sea creature like them, after all. “Looks good, you two!

It was about 15 minutes later when the sun began to set, and Shellington grasped onto a piece of kelp, and onto his sister’s hand, and they floated on their backs together, water beneath them, and it was really nice, wasn’t it? He heard the camera shutter of Dashi taking a picture, (and her swimming away) as Shellington drifted off.

He woke up to Pearl shaking him. “Hey, Shellington,” she whispered, and Shellington groaned, “Five more minutes..” he grumbled, still firmly attached to the kelp and his sister’s hand. “C’mon. I don’t know when your school starts. You probably have to go soon.” she said, and Shellington responded with a groan. Pearl wrestled the kelp out of his grip, and dunked him in water. He still, somehow, didn’t wake up. (At least not properly. Sleepy guy.)

Shellington was a heavy sleeper, after all. She dragged him behind her through the water plants, weaving through carefully. Didn’t want him (or herself) to be caught in it, after all. Eventually, she dragged him onto the shore, where he curled up. “Augh..” he groaned, blinking sleepily. “What.. time is it?” he asked, with a yawn following soon after. “Sunrise. Now, get up, sleepyhead,” she said, and he finally propped himself up. “I’ll go get the stuff you need, and you wake up.” she stated. It wasn’t phrased like a question, at least.

He watched as his sister walked off to the cave, and he stood up, grumbling, and walked over to the rock, retrieving his leather satchel. Pearl came back with the pictures in her hand, and she chuckled. “Someone woke up properly.” Shellington yawned. “Well, maybe not.”

Handing the photos to Shellington, they said their goodbyes and Shellington was off, putting the photos in his bag. Pearl had said she’d send some pictures to him over text, too, (and Dashi sending the more recent ones over email) so that was nice. He hoped, (and was fairly certain) that it’d be enough for his project, and to impress the Professor.

He worked tirelessly on the project for the rest of the week, Inkling, supervising him briefly, complimenting him on his work. If Shellington thought more highly of himself, he would’ve thought that he was the Professor’s favorite. And soon, it was time to present–the other projects had passion driven in them, this wasn’t really a class you took if you didn’t have a knack or passion for marine biology, so it made sense. They were all pretty wonderful–there was actually a hermit-crab student, who was really passionate and told everyone about their large family, which was sweet.

That one Ruby girl spoke about sharks in full, and described symbiotic relationships between sharks and remoras in detail. Another student talked extensively about orcas and dolphins, but clearly had vast knowledge in many other areas of marine biology. And finally, it was Shellington’s turn.

He went up to the front of the class, clearing his throat. “Hello. My name is Shellington, and my project is about.. A lot of things” he clicked to the next slide. “So here you can see me and my sister, Pearl.” he continued on with his presentation smoothly–he was happy nothing went wrong. Maybe it was his passion behind the topic or the fact that the rest of the students were respectful, or maybe the wanting to impress the Professor, he wasn’t sure. All he knew is that it went seamlessly.

A few presentations later, (all of them were wonderful, even if a few clearly had more time behind them then others) and the day was over. And tomorrow was finals. He knew he had a lot of preparation, and as he was heading out of the room, Inkling stopped him. “Shellington that was absolutely brilliant!” he then leaned in closer, whispering, “and don’t tell the others, but I think yours was best by far.” he praised, and Shellington smiled. “T-thank you Professor..” he didn’t usually stutter.

Inkling waved him goodbye then, and Shellington decided to go back to that cafe. He knew he wouldn’t see Dashi again, but it was a good study spot! Sitting down after ordering his regular milkshake-esc order, he pulled out his computer. It was time to goddamn study.

—

Finals had been stressful, obviously, though Shellington had gotten through them, and finally, it was his graduation. His only family, being Pearl, was in the audience. He wished his mother had been able to see it. Her son graduated from college, to help out the kelp forest she’d raised them both in until she had..disappeared. Somewhere deep in his heart, Shellington may have been secretly wishing that she’d somehow come, despite the odds.

Though he knew he’d never see her again, so he had shoved that back deep down for him to hopefully never deal with again. His mom was gone, and he knew the fact well. Pearl had congratulated him and brought him a handmade gift out of kelp–a little charm of sorts. He may’ve almost teared up a little at the gift. Inkling congratulated him, and handed him a nicely sealed envelope which he instructed to, “Look at later”, which Shellington had nodded to.

And that era of his life was over, now. He thought he’d feel different, but he really didn’t. He was still Shellington, after all. Well, now Dr.Shellington. Doctor Shellington Sea-otter. It was a bit of a mouthful, he’d definitely just tell people to call him “just Shellington”, even if his name plainly was still a little much by itself.

When he got to his dorm, (as he had obeyed what the Professor had told him) he opened up the envelope. Inside was a letter. His handwriting is wonderful.. Shellington thought silently, and he began to read it.

Dear Shellington,

Please meet me at the Campus Library at 3pm Tomorrow (Saturday). I have many things I would like to discuss with you, concerning the job.

Professor Inkling

It was shorter than Shellington was expecting–he was unsure why Inkling wouldn’t just tell him this, but he didn’t think about it much. He was wiped out from the day though, opting to sleep for as long as he could muster, turning off his alarms. He put one for 2:30 pm, just in case but he doubted he’d need it.

Flopping onto his bed, tucking his head into his nightcap and curling up underneath the covers, he fell asleep swiftly. That next day, he woke up at noon. He was sure there would be a curfew or something on the submarine, if he got accepted, so he decided to cherish his sleeping-in time for as long as he possibly could. Rolling over in his bed, he decided he needed to look… presentable. Taking off his nightcap, he looked in the mirror–his brown, almost shoulder-length hair.

It was messy as hell. He grabbed his dollar-store plastic comb, that while he barely used, would come in handy now. Running it through his hair–and oh, a knot. He untangled it, combed through, and oh no, a knot. Repeat.

Thirty or so minutes later.. His hair was nicer. He pulled on a dark green checkered sweater vest–it was his favorite color, after all. He had those pirate-esc white sleeves underneath, and sweatpants. He thought he looked nice enough, and he then just sat down, pulled out his computer, deciding on reading some good old fashioned studies on various topics.

And another 2 hours later, he realized it was 2:30–thirty minutes before he was supposed to meet up with Inkling! Walking out, phone in pocket and deciding to stop for some milkshake-ified-coffee, he arrived only a minute late! He saw Inkling rolled up next to a table, and he walked over, pulling up a chair. “Hello, Professor! So sorry if I’m late.” he felt it was necessary to apologize, even if he was only one minute late.

“No need to apologize, Shellington. Now, it’s time for the interview.” he said, and Shellington nodded. He had to do good. This was his make-or-break moment, he needed to do well. “So, Shellington, I always like to get to know a little about the people I might hire. So, family, friends, anything you’re welcome to talk about.”

Shellington thought for a moment. “Well, I.. you probably saw this in the presentation, but I have an older sister named Pearl, and we lived in the kelp forest with her for a while. I left to go to college, but I visit Pearl sometimes. I um.. Don’t really know anyone besides Pearl.” Inkling nodded. “I see. Experience?” he asked.

“Well, college and all of that, and I’ve done an internship or two, went on some very small explorations and I’ve spent some time around tide pools. Oh, and I lived in the ocean for the first 16 or so years of my life, so, there’s that.”

Inkling put the sheet that he had all of his questions on down. “Shellington–I’m supposed to go through all of this, but I really think.. You’re accepted.” he said, and Shellington lit up. “Really? Jumping Jellyfish, this is absolutely wonderful, oh-” he rambled silently to himself, and Inkling chuckled. “The flight’s next week. I’d hope you can sort everything outs during that time.” he said, and Shellington nodded. “Yes, I’m sure– I can do that, yes.” he said, giving him a thumbs up.

Shellington was just excited to finally get to do exactly what he wanted to, to the t.

Peso finished bandaging another creature’s arm, wrapping it quickly. He was often assigned to just wrap bandages, given how he was by far the speediest at it, and therefore he was basically put in an assembly line of sorts but with bandaging. Well, when the hospital was busy, that was. Which, while it wouldn’t be considered busy for a bigger hospital, it was a tad small. And that was usually fine, especially since there weren’t many jobs in the arctic besides just ‘hunting and gathering’, ‘trader’, and ‘medic’, so they had a decent amount of employees, sometimes it got too overcrowded. And very overwhelming. Peso would be lying if he said he didn’t have a panic attack or two or three or four or maybe just around 67 times because of the overcrowding. ( it was a lot now that Peso was thinking about it.)

But he loved helping people, and he thought he was decent enough at it. He was trained professionally, and while he went through more minimal med school then what would usually be required, he was certainly qualified for most anything. Sure, he would certainly at least need help during a surgery, that wasn’t his expertise though. He could. He likely wouldn’t though.

The staff had taken notice of these things. Peso hoped it wouldn’t jeopardize his job–he really didn’t know what to do if he got fired. It was very very stressful, yes, though it was his only source of income. Yes, life in the arctic was different then most of the rest of the mainland, with it being less ‘advanced’ or ‘capitalist’ as some would say. Most people had family homes or built their own, (there was the space, after all.) and while they got charged minimal taxes, any traders certainly wanted money for their goods.

Until, eventually, it was the end of his shift and he had finished bandaging up the last patient. He started gathering his things to head home, before he heard a (albeit grainy-sounding) announcement over the old speakers. “ PESO TO THE FRONT DESK! ” it boomed, and Peso jumped. They didn’t use the speakers often, on account of them being low quality, often much too loud, and more hard to understand than over a walkie-talkie.

He skittered over to the front desk, gulping. “Y-yes?” he asked, and the Penguin at the front desk smiled. Probably because it was his sister, Pinata. “Peso, hi. I think the big boss wants to talk to you, for some reason.” Peso nodded shakily. Please don’t be an announcement of me getting fired he anxiously prayed, walking to the office. The ‘big boss’, (whose real name was Dr… uh, something. Peso couldn’t remember, they usually just called him ‘boss.’) had his own smaller office. He was a doctor, of course, and his great grandmother or something like that had started the place.

The creaky door slowly opened, and Peso saw the older penguin-hybrid. Black hair (like most penguins) with a few streaks, tannish skin, (again, like most) and was adorning a suit. Peso felt under-professional with his scrubs, despite them being profesional doctor wear. “Peso.” “B-boss.”

“I think you’d be the best choice.” his boss said, and confusion washed over Peso’s face. “For.. what..?” he questioned. His boss typed something on his computer, before looking back up at Peso. “I think it’d be better if..” please don’t say you’re letting me go.. “You had a different work environment.” HE’S FIRING ME?? Peso panicked internally, but having a breakdown right now wouldn’t help his case. “No, I’m not.. Firing you. Not really, at least. Sit, please.” he requested, and Peso nodded shakily. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious how nervous he was, and he sat down. “You see, we have been sent an email. Pretty much, there’s this expedition a man named Professor Inkling is starting. I’m not completely sure of all the details, but I believe you’d be traveling around the world in a submarine, helping creatures underwater.”

Peso blinked. “.. I see. Why.. me?” he asked. His boss slacked back in his chair. “Well.. one, like I mentioned, it’d be a better work environment. Sure, you’d be the only actual medic, yes, but it would not be nearly as overcrowded as it is here. You’re also the fastest bandager I know, which only helps since you’re wonderful in many other medical practices. It’d be a bit high pressure, though. And you.. You wouldn’t be living in the arctic, instead on the submarine. And if you don’t end up being chosen, you will have a spot here, no matter what.”

Peso shrunk into himself. “It really does sound like a g-good cause,” and there his stutter was, “but.. I don’t think I’m the right fit. Wouldn’t someone else here be better?” he inquired, and his boss shook his head. “No, I’ve narrowed it down. Everyone else here is.. They’re not perfect for this. Plus, most of them can handle the intense workflow here without…” he trailed off, and Peso looked away, ashamed. He really wished that wasn’t such a huge problem. “And, I was told that they needed someone who is quick. You’re the fastest we’ve got.”

That was true. As much as Peso hated bragging, he was, factually, the fastest at bandaging specifically and in a lot of other fields. He couldn’t really deny that. “...I see. I’ll… can I get back to you later?” he asked, and his boss nodded. “You have a week to decide.” he told him, and Peso gave him a shaky “alright” before waving and leaving. Pinata was still there, it wasn’t quite the end of her shift yet.

“How’d it go?” she asked, and Peso pursed his lips. “..g-good.” he said. Pinata looked at him, slightly confused and also worried. “Hm. Okay..” she clearly didn’t believe him, though she couldn’t enquire more as Peso left the building, back into the snowscape.

Trudging home, he walked into his house (more like an igloo almost but whatever), where his mom greeted him. “Peso!” she greeted, waving. Peso waved back, his hand still shaking. “How was work, honey?” she asked, turning her attention back to the stove, where she was frying some non-meat fish. Fake fish, practically. They could be eaten raw, yes, but that wasn’t preferred by most people, and certainly not Peso and his large family.

Their house was conjoined by another one that held the rest of their family. In Peso’s, it was him, his younger brother Pinto, his older brother Pogo, his sister Pinata, and his mother. In the other, was his Grandma Perdita, Uncle Pepe, Aunt Papita, and Cousin Petina. While the houses were technically connected, they weren’t really treated as the same house. Almost like sharing an apartment, just the people in the apartments were all family.

Peso answered his mother’s question, then. “.. good, mama. It uh… I’ll talk about it at dinner.” he figured it’d be better to tell everyone all at once. Peso’s mom was a tad confused, and it showed on her face, though she didn’t question it. “Sounds good!” she said, flipping the ‘fish’ over.

Going to his room, he pulled out his xylophone–it was his only hobby, honestly. Besides bandage-wrapping, though that was less of a hobby and more so just a skill. He practiced until Pinto burst into their shared room. I wonder if I joined I’d get my own room. Peso wondered silently, as Pinto sprinted over to him. Feathers were where ears would be, and feathers were covering his arms and legs. Peso was just surprised he didn’t have a beak or full flippers. “Hi Peso! School was kinda boring, but me and my friends got to slide down the super super big hill!” he exclaimed. Peso blinked.

“.... the one mom told you not to go on?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. Pinto was a tad too young for that. Pinto looked away. “....maybe. Don’t tell mama, please ?” he begged, and Peso sighed. “Okayy, alright.” he begrudgingly agreed, and Pinto pumped his fist in the air, more feathers spurting out, and his hands now flippers and his feet webbed. The webbing and flippers went away when his excitement died down, though. “Mama said dinner’ll be ready soon,” Pinto said, flopping onto his cushy bed.

“That’s good,” Peso said absentmindedly, now focusing on his playing again. Pinto groaned. “Pesoooooo–play something with me” he begged, and Peso sighed a little. “Didn’t you just say dinner will be ready soon? Read one of your comic books or something, yeah?” he offered, and Pinto rolled his eyes, nevertheless he pulled out one and grouchily read it on the bed.

Around fifteen minutes later, they were called in. Pinto was the first there, and so his mom awarded him with setting the table, (which he groaned at in response) and then Pogo, then Peso, and finally Pinata. Peso thought maybe something other than this one brand of fake-fish would be good. His mother was a wonderful cook, and she didn’t always cook this, but they ate it a lot. If I went on that expedition then maybe i’d eat something else. He thought briefly, though he scolded himself mentally for the comment.

He shouldn’t be rude about his mother’s food, after all. “Peso, you said that you wanted to talk how work was with everyone?” his mother questioned, and Peso remembered that he’d said that. Pinata piped in, “Ooh, yes, you were called in by the big boss after all! What happened?” she asked, before popping a piece of fake fish in her mouth. Worry overtook his mother’s face. “ Big boss? Is that just something you call him or..?” Peso nodded, “Yeah, basically.” he told her. “What happened, though?” she asked, and everyone was looking at Peso. He gulped. “Well, um.. He thinks.. I’m the best candidate for this.. Expedition that’s being started by this Professor guy.”

Pinto lit up. “Expedition? Like an adventure?” he asked, leaning in, and Peso smiled nervously. “..maybe kinda? I’m not quite sure. A-all I know is that I’ll be traveling around the w-world in a submarine, helping creatures who are hurt or sick. That’s all.” he said. Pinata then asked the most logical question, being, “So you’ll be away from home for a while?” she asked, and Peso nodded. “I-I think so. I’m sure I’d be able to visit, of course, but I wouldn’t be home a lot of the time, I think.” he really wasn’t sure about any of this, so part of this was just him speaking from nothing, though it was what he assumed from the nature of the job.

“You gotta do it Peso! A adventure is soo cool!” Pinto chimed in, before his mother said, “If you really want to, hon. I’d.. we’d all miss you, but if it’s what you want to do..” she said, trailing off, and Peso hated seeing her so sad. “I-I’m not quite sure, yet. I want to know more details first.” he said. Pogo finally said, “Of course. That’s logical, like how you always are!” Peso knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way, more so in a good way actually, though even then it still felt like a stab in the chest. His mother and Pinata agreed, while Pinto still clearly wanted Peso to go on it. (He probably wasn’t thinking about how he wouldn’t see Peso in a while if that happened–that info seemed to have went in one ear and out the other.)

Eventually, the conversation shifted to something else, and then they finished their food and conversation, and then they were off to bed. “Peso,” Pinto mumbled while he brushed his teeth, “You gobba tabe thaf job!” he exclaimed, his words mangled by the toothbrush clogging his mouth. Peso took his out and cleaned it before he responded. “I-I might.” Peso said, and Pinto seemed vaguely satisfied.

That night, in bed, Pinto surprisingly fell fast asleep. Peso, though, did not. The offer was swarming him, like a bunch of bees that all had conflicting opinions.

Remember all your damn panic attacks? You slow them down at the hospital, this job will be better!You’ll miss your family.

You’re growing tired of this place.

You’ll be underwater. What if the submarine’s glass cracks and you drown?

New opportunities.

New people. New friends, maybe.

You know no one there.

You’ll be helping hundreds, if not thousands, of people

You’ll be alone.You might make an impact.

You might not.

Imagine all the people who need help. You could help them

You can never save everyone

You’ll miss your friends here.

What friends?

Do you want to leave your family? Imagine Pinto.

Pinto has friends, he’ll be fine.

What if something happens to him or the rest of your family when you’re not there?

The rest of the hospital is talented, and you’ll likely be able to get there fast.

What if the submarine’s slow and you aren’t there in your mother’s last moments? Your brothers? Your sister’s?

The submarine will be high-tech.

You don’t know that.

You’ll ask.

What if you die and your mother isn’t there in your last moments?That’s less important.You’ll be alone.

You’ll be stopping hundreds of people from receiving that fate.

What if you die on the first day?

That won’t happen, surely?

Peso tried to stop himself there, but he couldn’t. Surely this submarine was extremely safe. Right? The boss did say that they’d accept him back in an instant, this wasn’t him being fired..

What if that’s a lie because he knows you’ll die instantly?

Peso gulped. That.. wasn’t something he could dispute. He knew what he had to do–he couldn’t do this. They’d find someone else who’d–wait, does that mean someone else would be doomed? That’d be a death on his hands, wouldn’t it? Though he doesn’t know if that will happen. It probably wouldn’t, right? Why would the boss want to kill him?

If he wanted to get rid of him, he could just fire him, but there was always the possibility, right? Why would he want to kill Peso? Again, he could just fire him… Peso would ask him. Not why he wanted to kill him, obviously–the boss would be utterly confused, instead just details about this expedition. Figure out if it’s safe enough, decide everything he could.

He finally let himself fall asleep, then.

The next morning, he awoke to Pinto jumping on him, and he yelled, “PINTO-”, who was satisfied that he’d successfully awoken his brother. “You- you could’ve just.. Shook me, or something..” Peso muttered, and Pinto put his hands on his hips triumphantly, “That’s way less fun” he simply said, sliding off of Peso’s bed. It’d be nice to not wake up to your stomach gaining a dent every day. He thought, though he also loved Pinto.. Maybe it’d be nice to not have him around all the time.

He shook his head–that was terrible, wasn’t it? Though, he’d still see Pinto, and obviously still love him, so… he grit his teeth. Nope, later. Pinto was already out the door into the Kitchen when Peso got up, trudging into the kitchen. He just hoped it wasn’t obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

His mother didn’t seem to notice him at all with the commotion–Pinto talking rapidly to her, prancing around her practically, (she only really responded with “mhm” and “wow” when appropriate, which Peso did admit he found a little funny) Pogo had already left, and Pinata was looking at her phone, seemingly texting or something. Suddenly, a thought washed over him, They don’t need me here. Wouldn’t it be better if I got out of their hair? He wondered silently, sitting down at the table.

“Hey Peso.” Pinata said absentmindedly, not bothering to look up. “Hola Pinata.” he responded. They were both silent besides the tapping noises coming from Pinata's phone, and soon food was dished out to them. Pinto was still rambling on about something random, his mother instructing him to, “Not talk while you chew” a few times softly, (which usually worked for a few seconds or a minute until he had to be reminded again) and Peso and Pinata ate silently for the most part. “May I be excused?” Peso requested, and his mother looked up from doting on Pinto, saying, “Go ahead. You.. you don’t have to ask.” she said, which Pinto huffed at, annoyed that Peso didn’t have to ask but he did. Peso got up, heading into the bathroom. Pinto probably wouldn’t be done eating for another few minutes, so he could get ready in peace. He brushed his teeth, put on his scrubs and his overlaying jacket.

Pinto burst in, still annoyed, and began (angrily) brushing his teeth. At least he was being silent, and Peso felt terrible for thinking that. “Bye Pinto, see you later!” Peso said, and Pinto waved weakly, opting to not look at Peso. Was he really that mad? Peso wondered, and his mother handed him lunch as he walked out. Pinata’s shift was later than his, so she wasn’t going to go over quite yet.

After trudging through the snow and ice, he got to the hospital, walking in. Immediately, the person at the front desk, (she covered the night/early morning, while Pinata covered the rest of the day) asked him something. “Doctor Peso Guin, right?” she asked, and Peso blinked, nodding. “Y-yes.” he wasn’t expecting them to be, well, expecting him. She pointed over to the boss’s door. “Boss wants to see you.” she said, and Peso shakily nodded, walking over and twisting the knob.

The boss perked up at seeing him. “Peso, wonderful. Now, I’m sure you have many questions, so I managed to get on a video call with the Professor.” he said, and Peso blinked. The OWNER? Immediately panic ran through his head. “W-wonderful.” he stuttered, sitting down. He turned the computer to Peso, and Peso was a little surprised. For some reason, he didn’t expect the founder to resemble the monopoly man. “Hello, Dr Guin, right?” he asked, and Peso nodded. “Just Dr. Peso is fine.” he said, and the Professor nodded. “Sounds good, Dr. Peso. Now, I’m sure you have many questions so.. Fire away!” he said, and Peso cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Um, how is the living situation? I know we’ll be living on the submarine, but what’s that like?” the Professor put a hand to his chin. “Well, the submarine isn’t exactly a..” he put his hands in air quotes, “‘Usual’ submarine. It’s modeled to look like an octopus, just with four arms that have rooms attached. One arm has the activities room attached, another the garden pod, –all of our food will be grown by us–and the other two are separated into two rooms. They’re somewhat large, much more than just a bunk if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Oh, Peso had been expecting a terrible little bunk bed in all honesty. So hearing he would be getting a full room to himself was promising. “Wow.. that’s–that’s wonderful.” Peso heard himself saying, though he was partially just on ‘autopilot’ as he liked to call it. Sure, he was watching and he was saying things, but it was automatic, almost. “I.. another question I have, is, where will I work?”

Inkling adjusted his monocle, before saying, “Well, you’ll have an entire medbay. Unfortunately, I do not have pictures, but it’s fairly large. Lots of room. Of course, you’ll go out in the GUPS to do checkups, but–” Peso found himself interrupting. “So sorry, but.. Gups?” he asked. “Oh, apologies. Small submarines, practically.” Peso nodded. “Will I um.. Have to drive?” he asked, and Inkling thought.

“Well, eventually, likely yes, though not at the beginning. The Captain will be doing most of the steering until you’re properly trained.” Even if the idea of Peso steering made him almost feel a little queasy, the fact he would have training made him feel better, though. He’d.. avoid doing so as long as he could. “I see. Um, not to doubt you or anything but..” he gulped. “How strong is the glass on the submarine?” he questioned, and the Professor thought for a moment before answering.

“I’m not quite sure exactly the amount of pressure or anything like that, but Tweak–our head engineer–said it could handle being at the bottom of the mariana trench, and then some. As well as it being practically indestructible–it’d be incredulously difficult to even crack.” he said, and that made Peso feel a lot better. He was worried the glass would be like a household’s window–strong enough to keep the cold air out, but could be shattered with a baseball easily. Peso asked one more question, then, “Will I be able to visit my family?” he asked, and Inkling nodded. “Of course! And, the internet is quite good, according to Tweak. She wanted to improve it after our IT worker said they should. So, you can contact them virtually anytime you aren’t busy.”

That basically sealed the deal for Peso. He could contact them anytime he wanted, besides when he was working? That was wonderful news. “T-that’s wonderful! I’d um.. I do really think I’d like to try for the position.” he said, and Inkling nodded. “Exquisite. Now, we have been sent a lot of clips of you–you’re clearly qualified. If you’d like.. We could likely pick you up once the ship launches in a week or two.” he said, and Peso nodded. “I’d- I’d love that. Yes.”

He was so excited–he was hired! And, most of his worries were drowned away by the Professor’s reassurance. “It’s settled then. See you, then, Dr.Peso.” the Professor said, cutting off the call. Peso looked back at his –now former– boss. “Congratulations, Doctor.” he simply said, closing the laptop. Peso nodded. “You may go to work now.” Peso nodded. He couldn’t exactly abandon his duties because he’d been hired. He’d pack once he got home.

—

After work, Peso trudged back through the snowy terrain, and walked inside his house. He’d be enjoying all of this before he left. “Ma, I have a huge announcement for dinner.” Peso said, and she looked happy, though was that a hint of sadness in her eyes? Peso didn’t quite know. Physcology wasn’t his field of expertise. Pinto pestered him about it, and Peso just kept on telling him to “wait until dinner” which didn’t stop his insistence.

Once they had sat down for dinner, they were all expecting Peso. “So, um.. I- you know that job, last night I mentioned?” he asked, and they all nodded. “I’m.. well, I- okay, I accepted it. I’m guaranteed to work there, now.” he said, and Pinto cheered. “Now you’re an adventurer! You better take me on your awesome adventure someday!” his mother looked at Pinto, “Maybe when you’re a little older, sweetie.” she softly said, which Pinto promptly ignored.

“W-well I’m.. I’m still a medic. Just on a submarine.” Pinto didn’t care, his brother was on a submarine! His tail was wagging like a dog, (Peso honestly didn’t know Penguins did that, but the more you know, right?) and feathers were where ears would usually be.

“Good job,” Pogo commented, clapping a little. Pinata looked impressed too. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Peso.” she said, agreeing with her twin. His mother looked to be tearing up a little. “I’m.. I’m so happy for you, Peso. Will you be able to call?” she asked, and Peso nodded. “There’s internet on the submarine” he said, which made Pinata’s attention perk up again. “..do you know if they have any open positions?” she asked. Peso guessed by how they were launching soon, they didn’t. “I don’t think so,” he said, laughing a little.

She sulked a tad at that, and the table burst out in laughter, (she joined in, too) and Peso pushed the thought that said, You’ll miss them so much, is this really the best decision?

But Peso knew it was, they’d all be fine without him. And he was ecstatic to be helping many many creatures. That night, he went to his room and packed. Pinto helped him, saying that he should bring over one of his comics so he “wouldn’t forget him”, and Peso laughed as he put it in his suitcase, saying, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

Though, there was one nagging thought he was trying to get rid of.

What if the crew hates me?

If they did, he’d return. Though, then everyone would be disappointed, right? He’d just.. Not be a yes-man, he had a little more dignity than that, but just.. Stay out of any trouble. There were bound to be fights, of course, though Peso wanted no part in any of them. He wasn’t one to yell, and certainly not anyone to hurt anyone. He didn’t think he could even throw a punch without crying.

#octonauts #fanfic #octonauts peso #octonauts shellington #glad i was able to reupload today!#currently in Not My Homestate for a not-so-fun reason #so it's been a little weird!

22 notes · View notes