#my friend was judging and she walks by and looks at me with the carolina dog and says 'dont be adding more dogs to your list'

[beauceronn]

Carolina Dogs are so interesting. The person who had the one I posted also has another (altered female). I learnt so much about how they're working to preserve the breed and the history of the breed, what they look for for breeding stock and what they aim for. That dog had an incredible temperament (so sweet, so polite) and was just beautiful to watch. Very interesting stuff.

[thedeviltohisangel]

Blurb idea of Cass bringing John a gift back after her overseas trip?

All The Things I Did (Interlude): All I Brought Back With Me

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 INTERLUDE 1 CHAPTER 3

INTERLUDE 2 INTERLUDE 3 interlude 4

a/n: this got a little out of hand. cass and john have a mind of their own. i took the prompt in a bit of an evil direction but am i sorry? you be the judge. interlude ideas still open/come scream thoughts and questions at me. esp curious if you guys think cass should visit more? what does she do when she notices bucky's decline? does seeing her help or hurt? interested in your thoughts. love you all, enjoy !

When she landed at Thorpe Abbotts, her trip to rescue John failed, Colonel Harding was waiting for her on the runway. He looked like her father did when he caught her sneaking back into the house after night swimming with friends back in South Carolina. Hands on his hips and jaw twitching. 

“You look like hell, Lieutenant.” Cass had spent the flight back biting her lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to keep it from trembling. The tears had fallen silently but she was doing her best to keep them at bay. She couldn’t waste time crying over the current situation. Emotion would distract her from the task at hand. Prevent her from focusing the way she would need to do to break him out of the camp. She wasn’t going to sleep until he was back with her and safe.

“That’s where I came from, Colonel.” Her ribs were hurting with each breath, the bottle of whiskey the pilots had given her not numbing the pain at all. 

“We’ve got to get you in front of an interrogator.” Cass nodded. She knew the drill. Knew they would want to know about the layout of the camp, the susceptibility of the guards, the process of transferring pilots. “For what it’s worth, Cassandra, I’m sorry about Egan. He was one of our best.”

“Is. He is one of the best. He’s at that godforsaken camp and I’m going to get him out.” She grimaced and reached for her side. 

“I think your supervisors at the OSS have an opinion on that. They’re waiting for you inside.” Fuck. Now she was screwed. They had kept out of her business the entire time she was in the field. Had sent her instructions by classified mail or cable and praised all of her reports. For them to show up in person, she must have pissed someone off all the way up the ladder.

“Well, Colonel, I guess this is goodbye.”  Harding removed his aviators and looked at her with sadness behind his eyes. He reached out and tenderly touched the bruise on her cheek before his hand dropped back to his side. “Cassandra-”

“Colonel, you already declared your love for me once. Don’t do it again.” Every professional wall she had built would break. She turned before he could change his mind and take the risk and walked into the building where she was sure her career was going to end. In there was a table with a man in a suit sitting behind it, a thick file open in front of him. All the chairs for her to sit in had been removed and she would’ve taken a deep breath if she thought it wouldn’t have killed her.

“Lieutenant Cassandra Ann Egan. Ink barely dry on the marriage certificate before your husband goes down over Germany and you recklessly insert yourself  behind enemy lines. I might add, also in defiance of orders from your local, cover consistent chain of command, in direct violation of your training. Any comment so far, agent?”

“No, sir.” 

“You’re lucky you were successful in Berlin last month. If you weren’t the only officer to ever accomplish that operational objective, I’d be here to escort you back to the states in handcuffs.” Cass gulped but maintained eye contact as best she could. “Instead, I’m here to promote you.”

“Sir, that doesn’t seem-” She caught the new rank he threw her way as best she could with one hand. 

“Captain, you’re being sent on mandatory R&R back to the states until DC decides where to place you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Do I get to choose my location for leave?” 

“I presumed South Carolina-”

“Wisconsin. There’s some people I need to meet.” He looked at her pensively but nodded. 

“Very well. Now, let’s get a doctor in here and start the interrogation, shall we?”

----

When Cass finally made it back to her room, breathing was easier and the moon was illuminating a giant trunk that was now at the foot of her bed. She froze in the doorway. It was John’s. And now it was hers. She kicked her shoes off and padded over to her desk, his large sheepskin resting over the back of the chair. It still smelled like him when she put it on and it shattered her last will to stay strong. She dropped to her knees and wrapped his jacket around herself tighter, the sheepskin catching her tears like she imagined John would himself if he were here.

“You were right, Johnny. We should have never left London.” It had been the happiest two days of her life. It had been normal. Just like she imagined falling in love with a boy might be. They had gone to dinner and danced and danced and danced until her feet hurt. He had kissed her and ran his hands down her body and whispered in her ear how he needed her. They had gone to bed and claimed each other over and over until she forgot where she was and how awful the world around them was. Until she forgot how dangerous it would be to tell him she loved him and said it anyways. Had married him the next morning because neither of them could shake the feeling something bad was going to happen. That they needed to be each other’s fully in this life to guarantee they would find each other in the next.

Cass crawled over to the trunk and opened it shakily. There were the items she was expecting. Books, gum, cigarettes. A photo of his family back home and Yankees baseball cards. There was a pile of letters from home and then at the very bottom, an envelope with her name on it. And then she found another one and another one until there was a stack of letters he had written to her on the floor. 

The first one dated the night she found the nerve to claim him in public. He wrote that he was going to tell her he loved her. That he couldn’t keep it in any longer so he wrote it down. That he knew she would be the one to get his trunk if anything happened to him because he had known she was it for him all along. She held that one close to her chest and felt the words seep into her skin and soothe the ache in her chest. 

The rest of them followed similar themes of John pouring out emotions he was too afraid to say out loud. They all made her giggle because almost immediately after the letter was dated, he had said those words to her in person. He was never good at restraining himself when it came to her. The last one made her heart ache. It was the morning of the last mission, his handwriting rushed and sloppy. He poured out his love for her, how he was fighting for a future with her and hoped at least one of the men who owned the bullets she collected was down there today.

And as soon as I get back, we are going to celebrate our wedding and plan our trips to South Carolina and Wisconsin and practice our baby making. Cass smiled. The version of her that had met John that first night at the social club would have never guessed how broody he was. Now that she knew, it made her tingle. My sun. My moon. My stars. My wife. My precious Spook. I love you, Cass, and am eternally yours. She wiped the tears from her eyes and gently placed the letter back in its envelope. Sitting at her desk, her pen hovering over the blank paper, she looked up at the moon. Whenever her dad spent the nights camped with the farmhands in the field and Cass missed him, her mother would tell her to look at the moon and remember he was looking at the same one. John was looking at the same moon as her tonight. As she whispered her love into the moonlight and wrote the first of the daily letters she had promised him, she hoped the moon did her a favor and carried the message to Germany.

----

She spent the first day or two of her leave building up the courage to knock on the door of the Egan family. Her and John had discussed the eventuality of meeting his family. It felt odd to do it without him but she felt in her heart they deserved to know where he was and how he was doing. Selfishly, it was like getting a piece of him back. 

After knocking on the door, she hoped for a moment it didn’t answer. Maybe this wasn’t going to make her or them feel any better. Maybe it would just break her heart all over again.

And then, the door opened.

----

A few weeks later she was pacing outside that wretched chain link fence. She had managed to make it without any broken ribs this time and she was thankful her contact hadn’t confiscated her canvas bag. In it were hats and gloves for John and Gale and the other men, enough chocolate to hopefully bring them some happiness and some mementos from Wisconsin his mother had sent with her. Cass wasn’t even sure how many of her letters had made it to him yet. If he even knew of the trip she had taken. 

“There’s my beautiful, beautiful girl.” Her smile split her face, surging to meet his lips through a gap in the fence. “I’ve missed you.” Seeing her soothed the ache within him only incrementally. There was still something endlessly aggravating about the fence in between them but John knew he was lucky to even be able to see her like this. Counted her as his chief blessing before he tried to find sleep at night.

“I’ve missed you too but your face looks better than the last time I saw you.” John scoffed.

“Worried I wasn’t handsome enough for you anymore?” 

“Worried you weren’t going to take care of yourself more like it.” 

“Buck’s got me covered.” He pressed as close to her as the fence would allow. “I’ve gotten a few of your letters. Wrote you one back.” She smiled at how sheepish he seemed. Nervous that maybe she hadn’t liked what he had written.

“It hasn’t made its way to me but I’m sure it's lovely if the letters to me in your trunk are any indication.”

“You found those?” he asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was waiting for me when I got back from here the last time. You loved me a lot earlier than you said it, John Egan.”

“Loved you from the moment I saw you.” He smiled, he thinks he only smiled when he read her letters or the one time she had visited, took any opportunity to escape into their solar system that he was allowed. “Your last letter said you got in trouble at work.” 

“Colonel Harding ratted me out for not obeying his orders.” John’s jaw clenched at the mention of the man. The man who had used his rank to take Cass to dinners and dances and promised her the life of a General’s wife if she wanted it. “But you’ll be happy to know after I got my ass thoroughly chewed, I got promoted.”

“Promoted?” 

“You are now the lucky husband to one Captain Cassandra Ann Egan.” He whistled, heart stuttering at the reminder she was his wife, as she did a little twirl and took a bow. 

“Congratulations, Captain. You certainly earned the hell out of it.”

“You’ll have to feign surprise when the letter telling you all of this gets to you.” John watched as her face fell and grew concerned. “You’ll also see some letters from me that are postmarked from Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin?” Then realization settled on his face. “Cass, did you…did you…” He was struggling to formulate the question.

“Please don’t be upset with me,” she breathed desperately. “When they mandated stateside leave it just slipped out. It was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I should’ve just gone to South Carolina and left it alone.”

“I haven’t been to Manitowoc in years,” he spoke wistfully. Had wanted to go back with her on his arm when all this was over. “My sisters give you a hard time?”

“I brought some fabric from my last trip to Paris to butter them up.” John laughed. Only his Spook would be able to tame his two older sisters. “I spent most of the time promising you were okay. They thought you injured your head when I told them we’d been married, something about you not seeming like the type.”

“Just had to find the right girl.” 

“Your mom misses you. A lot. Wanted me to give you this.” Cass reached into her bag and pulled out a slightly tarnished silver watch with a date engraved on the back. 

“My dad’s watch.” It was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. “His dad gave it to him on my parents' wedding day. That’s what the date on the back is. Told me when I got married, it would be mine.”

“I can get it cleaned and upgrade the engraving and bring it back if you’d like.” John coughed and shook the fog from his head.

“No. It’s perfect. We’ll get the engraving done together when I’m out of here.” He tucked the watch into his shirt pocket. 

“She also gave me this. Was horrified I wasn’t already wearing it.” Cass handed him a small ring box and he knew it was his grandmother’s engagement ring before he even opened it. “I told her it would be wrong to put it on my own finger. One more thing for us to do when we get you out of here.” 

“Yeah but you best keep it safe while we wait to get the chance.” He removed the cross from around his neck, slipping the small diamond ring onto it and passing through the fence. She took the chain but slid the cross charm off and handed it back to him with a look. “I’d rather use it to protect you.” 

“It’s not up for debate.” He took it and slipped it onto the same chain as his pendant. “Here comes our friend. Catch.” Cass launched the canvas over the side of the fence, John gathering it with ease.

“Thanks, baby. I’m sure all the guys will be very grateful.”

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Moscow is my new station.” She had asked for London but was turned down. Told she had earned more of a challenge than London presented. “I have to get the lay of the land and keep my head down for a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ll win them over in no time, Spook.” She rolled her eyes and reached for a kiss. “I love you, Cass. Now and forever. I promise.”

“I love you, too, Johnny. I’ll see you soon.” Cass stayed until he was walked out of sight, the chain heavy against her chest once he disappeared from her view. 

Soon was never soon enough.

[goldengay49]

Texas: I don’t mind homosexuality, as long as it’s my own homosexuality

————————————————————————

California: I feel like Steve Jobs is judging me from his grave

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: how do you spell difference?

New York: What 👏 a 👏 genius 👏

————-————-————-————-————-——

Ohio: I'm a skater

Indiana: you smoke weed!?

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: how would they know me 🙄💅

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: let me gaslight an infant; it’s a harmless crime

————-————-————-————-————-——

South Carolina: I’m an animal in bed

South Carolina: feed me and give me pats

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: these fries are so fucking good

Utah: HeY! In-N-Out Is A chRIStian company-!!

————-————-————-————-————-——

Washington and Oregon: *kiss*

Montana: what are you doing

Idaho: we’re playing gay chicken

————-————-————-————-————-——

*texting*

Florida: *selfie of his forehead*

Florida: Getting ready to go to cort

Gov: you have a beautiful forehead, Florida, but what’s cort?

Louisiana: court*

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: I want to eat the scented candle

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: *points to sign that says idfb*

California: I DON'T FUCKING BITCH, FLORIDA. I DON'T FUCKING BITCH 🙄

————-————-————-————-————-——

*texting*

Delaware: PLS

Delaware: SHAKING UR SHOULDERS

Delaware: AGGRESSIVELY

Delaware: TELL ME U GOT THIS

Delaware: PLS

Delaware: BEGGING U

Delaware: ON MY KNEES

Delaware: Fuckkkk

New York: Why does Apple/Samsung not like Delaware😒

Delaware: PLS

Delaware: IM CRYING

————-————-————-————-————-——

Gov: who’s excited Florida’s not here

Everyone: *raises their hands*

Florida: *walks in* what’s up suckers

California: are you okay, gov? You look sad

Gov: I’ve just hit a new level of depression

————-————-————-————-————-——

Washington: why isn’t Oregon Kirby? He loves sucking things

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: tell me who you like, whisper it

Nevada: *whispers*

California: HIM!? WHY HIM!?

————-————-————-————-————-——

Oregon, stuck in his sweater: help, how do I get out of this!?

————-————-————-————-————-——

West Virginia: you cannot tell me $2 can’t pay for college

————-————-————-————-————-——

New York: and then we basically went to y’know what’s it called?

California: bed?

New York: yeah, bed

————-————-————-————-————-——

Utah: I don’t believe in 69

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: y’know what’s really underrated? Eating dirt

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: don’t worry, I’ll take her boyfriend so you can have her

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: I'm making robbery aesthetic

————-————-————-————-————-——

Alaska (on a call with Hawai’i): FLORIDA KEEPS MAKING BIRD SOUNDS DURING MEETINGS

Hawai’i: are they good bird sounds?

Alaska: THE FUCK?

Alaska: THERE ARE NO GOOD BIRD SOUNDS

————-————-————-————-————-——

Texas: GODLESS HEATHEN!

California: YOU CAN’T CALL ME GODLESS JUST BECAUSE I’M CATHOLIC

————-————-————-————-————-——

New York: western states don’t exist to me, they’re walking fetuses

————-————-————-————-————-——

New York: take my hoodie and I take your ability to walk

Florida: oh~

New York: *grabs bat*

Florida: wait-

————-————-————-————-————-——

Texas: you have no friends!

California: you’ve known Baja for years!

————————————————————————

Kansas: wait… you have farms in California

California: no, the agriculture we produce comes from black magic

————-————-————-————-————-——

Gov: florida, your mommy said you were cute… she lied

————-————-————-————-————-——

Nevada: i like your shoes, they're shiny. Taylor swift could steal them and itd be the coolest thing shes ever done

————-————-————-————-————-——

Gov: california, new york, florida, you’ll be sharing your work in a 3 way

Florida: ooh~

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: you lose your speaking privileges

Virginia: YOU lose your rights *holds up constitution*

California: *grabs it and starts reading it aloud*

————-————-————-————-————-——

Oregon: I got stabbed in my past life! No wonder I don’t want to stab people!

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: Wisdom is a privilege, and we are not privileged people

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida, on call: SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE HUNTING

Alaska: do you have any friends?

————-————-————-————-————-——

Alaska: am I sexually active—? No, look at me

————-————-————-————-————-——

California: I have a Tesla for the environment

Texas: you also have a Ferrari

————————————————————————

Florida: *turns on seat heating*

Florida: is my seat hot for some reason

————-————-————-————-————-——

Florida: no one can catch my cold. It’s special

————-————-————-————-————-——

Texas: i’m not homophobic! My boyfriends gay

————————————————————————

Arkansas: *singing in the bathroom in the middle of the night*

Tennessee: *opens door* you come and sing with me, boy

Red: happened irl

Blue: stole from the internet

Black: made it up

[howlingday]

I have made up my mind and I think Jaune doesn't need a gun

All he needs is a woman in mjolnir armor that coincidentally looks and sounds like his dead partner

Carolina: You've been staring at me for a long time.

Jaune: Oh, s-sorry, you just... You remind me of someone.

Carolina: Mm. Well, I can't say I appreciate the staring, but judging by the look on your face, I'd say she was a really close friend?

Jaune: Yeah, she was.

Carolina: Well then, I guess the two best pieces of advice I could give you are to refrain from staring in public (Jaune blushes) and to keep your friends close. You never know when they'll be gone, and you should cherish them all the more.

Jaune: Thanks...

Carolina: (Walks away) Take care of yourself, Jaune.

Jaune: ...Wait, did you just say-

Ruby: Jaune! Come check this out!

Jaune: I... Sure, Ruby. I'll be right there.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Karaoke Night: Bob

TITLE: Karaoke Night: Bob PAIRING: Bob/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Bob, Rooster, and Hangman decide to go a bar one night where Bob falls in love with a girl singing “Head Carolina, Tails California.”

[A/N - This will be a mini-series with one-shots for Rooster and Hangman too. Heavily inspired by “She Had Me at Heads Carolina” by my love Cole Swindell.]

Rooster, Hangman, and Bob entered the bar.

Judging by the people singing on the stage, it was Karaoke Night.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Hangman said, heading for the door.

“What’s the matter, Bagman? Don’t wanna get on stage and embarrass yourself with your horrible singing ability?” Falcon teased.

“He’s just jealous because you sing like a Nightingale,” Rooster said, kissing his girlfriend’s temple.

Falcon blushed.

“I’m gonna need a few beers if you two are gonna be all mushy,” Hangman said.

They walked up to the bar and Hangman, Rooster, and Falcon ordered a few beers.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked Bob.

“Um, just a water.”

“You sure?”

Bob nodded.

“Okay. Comin’ right up, sweetie.”

Bob looked around the bar. It wasn’t really his scene. He wasn’t even that comfortable at the Hard Deck unless Phoenix, Rooster, or Fanboy was there.

His eyes fell on a cute brunette with a circle of her friends.

She took a shot and quickly stuck a lime in her mouth.

“C’mon! You gotta sing!” one of her friends told her.

She shook her head and laughed. “No way!”

“But…”

“I’m not singing for a bar full of drunk people.”

Unbeknownst to her, one of her friends slipped away from the group and walked up to the sign-up sheet.

A few minutes later, the DJ was calling her name. “Rory Catomeris!”

The girl, Rory, huffed and walked up to the stage. She chose a song and the opening chords of “Heads Carolina, Tails California” started playing.

Bob’s head turned to the stage.

Her voice was beautiful. She knew the song by heart because she wasn’t even looking at the screen.

Man, it was like she was born to be on stage. Everyone in the bar was holding onto her every word.

Bob raised his bottle of water up to her and she smiled at him. By the end of verse two, Bob was right in front of the stage.

Rory smiled down at him as she sang.

Bob sang along with her, despite not having that great of a voice.

It was like something out of a movie. The world disappeared and it was just them two.

She hit the bridge and knelt down in front of him. Her green eyes sparkled as she stared at him. Just before the third refrain, she stood up and motioned for everyone to jump with her.

The song ended and everyone in the bar cheered for her.

Rory walked off the stage and pushed through the crowd until she found Bob. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

“You were amazing!” Bob told her.

Rory blushed. “Thanks. You were a great audience.”

Bob blushed this time.

“I’m Rory.”

“Bob.”

Rory’s eyes narrowed. “Is that your real name? Or are you giving me a fake name?”

Bob cleared his throat. “My name’s Robert, but everyone calls me Bob.”

He decided to omit the fact it was also his callsign. Unlike Rooster and Hangman, he normally didn’t lead with his job in the Navy.

“Well I’m not gonna call you that. How about Rob?”

“Rob works. Can I buy you a drink?”

Rory nodded.

They walked to the far end of the bar.

Bob didn’t want his fellow pilots to tease him about picking up a girl; that was usually Hangman. He bought her a margarita and they found a booth to sit in.

“So, what made you pick that song?” Bob asked.

“Oh, it’s my favorite song. So many of Jo Dee Messina’s song are iconic, but that one always seems to be on the karaoke machine.”

“You have a great voice. You should think about being a singer.”

Rory scoffed. “I wish. I’d be better off moving to California to do that.”

“You should. It’s beautiful. Especially the beaches.”

“You talk as though you’ve been.”

Bob cleared his throat. “It’s normally where I’m based. Me and my team are here on a special mission, then it’ll be back to North Island.”

“North Island?”

“It’s a Naval base.”

Rory’s eyes went wide. “You’re in the Navy?”

“I’m a WSO. A Weapon’s System Officer. It’s just a fancy title for a pilot’s backseater.”

“Wow. Sounds exciting.”

“It can be. Although me and Phoenix, my pilot, had a bird strike about a year ago and had eject. Never been more scared in my life.”

Rory was about to say something when her friend called her name. “Hey, thanks for the drink. I’ll see you around,” Rory said.

Before she left, Bob grabbed her wrist. “If…if you’re ever in California, look me up.”

She gave him a two-finger salute and walked off.

Bob sighed and took a sip of his water. There was a slim chance that he’d ever see her again, but Bob could dream.

[spiritedgoat]

The Ashes in us

(Part 1)

Part2: https://spiritedgoat.tumblr.com/post/692747625824468992/the-ashes-in-us-part-2-part

Reader/Jason Kolchek

M/F

But there is descriptions of some things (ex. Tattoo,ect)

Warnings

Will get mature so be warned lol

graphic depictions of violence and swearing

Let me know if you all enjoy and want more!

_____________________

_____________________

Never have you felt heat like this before even growing up in South Carolina for most of your life. The sun's rays hitting every inch of your exposed skin. Your army green shirt tucked into your fatigues, sweaty and uncomfortable. ''The Iraqi sun really shows no mercy'' you sighed to yourself picking up the canteen from your pack. Physical exercise really was hell in the middle of the day especially since summer was in full swing, yet you still considered it to be better than stuck inside behind a desk.

"Fuck, they're really seeing if they can kill us before the Iraqis do, huh" one of the men panted, standing a few feet away desperately trying to cool himself off. You smiled softly ,shaking your head. Yeah it fucking sucked and it felt like your were playing pushups on Satan's grill but overall it did help with the acclamation process ,helping plenty on the missions in the middle of absolute nowhere ,looking for weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Even though most of those missions ended in coming back empty handed.

"You done, Jack?" Nick asked leaning against the structure looking down at you in your crouched position. The voice grabbed you back from your thoughts at the sound of your nickname. You looked up at the man squinting at the sharp sunlight. "LT is looking for you, thought I'd come get ya since I'm on my way to Rachel"

You sighed, grabbing your things to follow the man into the building. Nick and Jason were probably some of the closest friends you've made including Joey, they truly became like family to you even if you might or might not have eyes for the lieutenant though you'd never act on it.

"How gentlemanly of you" you joked swinging the backpack over your shoulder. "Have you ever known me to be anything else?" Nick followed the act even fake bowing, laughing at your sarcasm. It was definitely a second language you were very much fluent in. "What's it about anyway?" you asked , casually watching Nick as you walked together through the corridor.

"I think it might be regarding the new C.O landing today" Nick shrugged. "Ah fuck" you sighed

"Judging by the reaction, guessing you forgot? The Iraq sun already fry your brain? " Nick teased, You shot him a glare, playfully slapping his shoulder with the back of your hand. "I didn't forget....okay maybe I did, shut up"

"Thank you Nicky! for saving my ass from Jason giving me an earful" he dramatically proclaimed, laughing at the scowl on your face. "Say hi to your boyfriend for me" Nick teased with a wink, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was probably one of the only ones who knew your dirty little secret. Though you'd never admit it to him, you couldn't lie either when he started connecting the dots that you liked Jason.

"Yeah yeah, whatever" You laughed shooing Nick away at the door where you part ways .You watched a moment longer as Nick continued up the hall towards the Quee...I mean Rachel's office. You had your suspicions about whatever the hell was going on there. If Nick was really fooling around with the Queen Bitch ,as she was fondly know as, was way past you. You didn't really care too much but you'd lie if you said it didn't prick your curiosity a little.

Upon entering the room you were met by a pair of eyes sitting behind a desk, "Ah Joey, they got you doing paperwork now?" you laughed walking closer to inspect the documents he was working on.

"Just say if I need to make a few calls there, buddy" a familiar voice sounded, entering the room. The man in question walked over to you, a smirk hanging on his lips.

"Nah, as far as I know, you catch less bullets from behind a desk" Joey said looking up smiling at his lieutenant. You just shook your head and smiled turning to Jason.

"Miss Jackowski, I want you to finish your reports and meet me outside at the east hall in two hours." Jason spoke, his southern accent thick. Something that made you a little tingly inside. "Yes sir" You answered, gathering the needed paperwork. "When is the new C.O coming in?" you asked turning to look at Jason who was leaned against a desk. "He's supposed to be in, in 3hours but said he might be running a bit early" Jason answered glancing at you.

-------------------------------

Finishing the last report you packed everything up, slipping out of the room with 15 minutes to spare before having to meet up with Jason. You stepped outside dodging marines entering the tight halls and leaned yourself against the outer wall to the side of the building, a little place you frequented on your breaks. It was a welcome bit of fresh air. Pulling out your pack of cigarettes you stuck one in your mouth. Lighting the end you pulled in a slow breath.

"You know that will kill you" a voice said to the side of you making you jump from your spot.

"Fucking hell" you mumbled under your breath ,looking up at Jason who was watching you with a cocked brown brow, a small smile on his face.

You only smoked on occasion, especially if stress was high. A not necessarily good habit you picked up even before your deployment days. It helped you wind down sometimes, to just take a break.

"Now I won't lie but I think there's worse things that'll kill me out here, sir" you smiled looking at Jason's amused face. He just nodded, dimples just creeping into sight before slumping against the wall next to you.

You looked over to your side exhaling the smoke away from him.

He held out his hand to you expectantly, you raised an eyebrow and slowly pulled the cigarette from your lips, handing it to him.

He took the cigarette and put it to his own lips taking a deep puff before slowly exhaling. You just watched him quietly in the comfortable silence.

It was weird, the first time you've seen Jason smoke but it clearly wasn't his first by the looks of it. You turned back, quietly staring into the distance. You know there must be a lot on his mind, especially after the checkpoint incident that happened. You knew Jason took it a lot harder than he'd ever admit maybe even harder than Nick since it was on his call. He was a hard and intolerant man but you knew he had a soft and caring heart under the whole 'macho' confident front he always tried to put up.

You knew that feeling well since you'd be a hypocrite if you said you didn't. The feeling of...not feeling to protect yourself from being hurt. You yourself were good at putting up that ruse using humor or sarcasm but inside you always had your walls up, guarded and secured since your childhood.

You were practically bred into the military. Your father, a good colonel to his men but a damn bad father. Especially after your mother passed away, the bottle took a tight grip on him and made him mean...

"We should go in five" Jason finally spoke breaking the silence that befell you, looking over to you taking a last drag of the cigarette.

He longingly glanced at you, the calm but unreadable expression on your face as you stared ahead, he could see the cogs turning in your head only wondering what was going through your mind.

For some reason he was always drawn to you like a cowboy to a horse. Maybe it was that he found some misplaced sense of comfort and peace from you or the way you always seemed to make him smile, those stupid jokes you tell or the way your body's curves complimented each other, the way he didn't have to act around you. But one thing he knew for sure was that you were a damn good marine, best of the best if he had to say it. He wouldn't have anyone else to guard his back.

At first he underestimated you since you weren't too mouthy about your skills and kept to yourself, till he saw you in combat, saving his ass from an IED. Since then his respect for you only grew more and maybe his feelings for you too.

A piece of your tattoo peeking out from your shirt at the base of your neck caught his eye. He always wondered what the tattoo was, never getting to see the full piece since it was hidden away on your back.

You met his eyes briefly and nodded your head in understanding at his words, relaxing back against the wall enjoying the soft breeze against your skin.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

It's important to me that you know one of the lead singers is named Alexander. The one with the gender voice. Jk they all have gender voices iorehgnilkuybkcjn But the one with the less gravely voice. I want his voice so bad you don't understand-

The Outcast:

If they can make a law Then I can break a law If I can break a law Will the law break me?

The revolution.

It comes tumbling down again I can't comprehend Is it destiny? A nomadic state Are you a refugee? No place to call your home Forever walk alone

John leaves for South Carolina, everything happens blah blah blah, he dies.

As the world goes on Forgotten by the ones you know

History forgets him; he's nobody, no one knows even his name.

And all the words you gave me I lost on bended knee But you can't stop these cravings just by praying they would cease

Lams. I. I don't. I don't need to say anything. L a m s . And his suicidalness, because I do believe there is enough evidence to support a true suicidal phase during the war as opposed to just wanting to die for his country.

If I can make a life Then I can take a life

Having a daughter and then leaving for war, his guilt over leaving her and Martha.

If I can save a life Will this life save me? Time after time I still seem to find You're looking out for me So wrap your arms around me Hold me close and don't let go Let me lean on you as I think things through If I don't we'll never know

L a m s .

Will your faith save me? Will I find this place where I belong? (Find this place where I belong) Can you protect me from my troubles? Keep me safe from harm? Will you help me carry on?

GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY

Black Velvet Band:

In a neat little town they call Brockton Apprenticed in trade I was bound And many an hour of sweet happiness I spent in that neat little town Then bad misfortune befell me And caused me to stray from the land Far away from my friends and companions To follow the black velvet band

He joins the war. The w a r .

As I was out strolling one evening Not intending to stay very long And there met a frolicsome damsel As she came tripping along A watch she pulled out her pocket And slipped it right into my hand On the very first night that I met her Bad luck to the black velvet band

he meets Hammy Ham ehuehuehue

Her eyes they shone like the diamonds You'd think she was queen of the land And her hair hung over her shoulder Tied up in a black velvet band

GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY

Before judge and jury next morning Both of us did appear A gentleman claimed his jewelry And the case against us was clear Now seven long years transportation Right down to Van Dieman's land Far away from my friends and companions To follow the black velvet band

HE'S AN AIDE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HE JOINS WAHSINGTON'S STAFF LKHCNILEU<NVYGYBUKRQJHTGUK

So come all you jolly young fellows I'll have you take warning by me That whenever you're out on the liquor Beware of the pretty Colleen

She'll fill you with whiskey and porter Until you're not able to stand And the very next thing that you know You've landed in Van Dieman's Land

Hamilton is a hoe. We already know this.

Her eyes they shone like the diamonds You'd think she was queen of the land And her hair hung over her shoulder Tied up in a black velvet band

“Hamilton is a hoe. We already know this.” need that on a shirt honestly,,,

[outerbankspreferences]

Is It Just Me? - Chase Stokes

Is It Just Me – Chase Stokes

 Word Count: 2893

 MASTERLIST

It's been way too long for me to find it this hard Sitting alone, my fingers picking the sofa apart An attempt to distract from the fact that I miss you I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home And stay for the night because they don't want to leave you alone Way before it was fun, it's becoming an issue

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 It had been exactly 3 months and 13 days since you and Chase had broken up. You wished it would have been a shock to you, but you had seen this coming. Things with Chase were great in the beginning. He was caring and sweet towards you. You could remember a time someone had cared for you as he had. You always supported Chase with everything he wanted to do with his life. You met him when he had just started out acting, and you were proud to watch his career blossom to the extent it had.

 But had someone told you 6 months ago that you guys wouldn’t be together anymore you would have denied the accusations. 6 months ago, you thought Chase was in love with you.

 Chase had been going back and forth to North Carolina for auditions and eventually got the leading role in the television series. You spent the first month with him and his new cast mate Rudy, having the time of your lives with the other people on the show. The whole cast would go out to different clubs every weekend enjoying spending time together.

 Just a little over 6 months later you were still going to clubs but this time on separate sides of the country. You couldn’t process what had happened in a healthy manner and instead turned to going out with your friends every weekend to keep your mind off things. It always ended the same, one of your friends dragging you up the stairs of your once shared apartment because you were too drunk to do it yourself. They had grown accustomed to the weekend ritual of getting you sleep wear and a bucket for the morning.

 Then you would wake in the morning, puking the nights content in the bucket popping Advil for the headache and dragging yourself to couch, throwing on some stupid movie that you wouldn’t be able to watch anyways. Instead, you would pick at the loose strings of the sofa thinking of all the times you spent in the apartment with Chase.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 As you sit picking away at the sofa, you mind wanders to Chase. You still follow everyone on Instagram, and you were still good friends with Rudy, so you could see everyone’s stories. Rudy had been the only one to keep in touch with you, which surprised you because he and Chase seemed to be such good friends.

 You wondered if Rudy ever asked about you to Chase, and then you wondered what Chase’s reaction would be. Would his heart be in his stomach at every mention of your name, or would he simply shrug like you guys had never been more then distant friends?

 You sat wondering if Chase ever thought back to the day at the airport. The way he let you walk through security with no more then just a side a hug you would give a sibling. Wishing you a good flight and see you later before leaving. He hadn’t even waited for you to board the plane.

 There were so many things you had wanted to say to him. You want to tell him you loved him, that you would fight for him. More so you wanted him to fight for you, for the years you had spent together. To fight for the promises he made to you, the ones you made together and the ones to come. You wanted to apologize for not being enough, but you couldn’t find the right words, so you watched him walk out of your life.

 I heard a rumor you've been spending some time With that blonde girl that you work with and I know she's exactly your type And my miserable mind's running wild with the picture Or are you there by yourself, dialing, redialing my number? And I'm calling your mother, spilling tears on my jumper again The way I am

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 1 month later, Chase’s mother, Jennifer, had called you because she had seen the announcement on Instagram. The two of you had been close while dating Chase considering how close he was with her. Your mother lived down south, and you didn’t get to see her that often, so Jennifer was a close second.

 You had heard rumors from Drew and Rudy about Chase and Maddie hanging out together more, and it didn’t come as a shock to you. In the last bit of your relationship, you played second fiddle to her on multiple occasions. “It’s probably nothing, it because they have scenes together.” Rudy would make excuses over facetime when he watched your face drop at the mention of her name. “Yeah, you’re probably right, nothing to get worked up over.” You responded in a less then convincing tone, “she seemed super cool the couple of times I met her.” “Yeah she is. I think under different circumstances the two of you could have been friends.” He encouraged.

 When the nights started to get cold in LA again you found yourself struggling to sleep. It was at these times you would reread old text messages and look through old pictures of the two you. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you weren’t ready to move on. Chase had extra time to mourn the lose of the relationship while you were still grieving. It was on these cold nights alone in the apartment you shared that you began to wonder if he was thinking about you. Was he sitting next to her thinking about you? Was he wondering whether he should call you or just delete your number?

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 It was early in the morning in North Carolina and Chase was sitting on the patio of his shared apartment with Rudy. The sun was just starting to rise in the distance as he found himself restless yet again. He had been awake for about an hour just laying in his bed when he finally decided to get up. He was careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to him. She felt different next to him compared to you. When the two of you slept together you always liked to be the big spoon. Chase let you, finding comfort being wrapped up in bed next to you. Maddie was different, she preferred to lay her head on his chest, letting the sound of his beating heart lull her into sleep.

 Not soon after Rudy came on the patio too, and Chase cursed him for being a night owl. “Not tired?” Rudy asked pulling out the bong they kept under the table. “No, and I didn’t want to wake Mads’” Chase spoke up tossing Rudy the lighter next to him watching the blonde inhale the smoke.

 “I can’t stop thinking about her.” Chase finally spoke up, keeping a hushed tone just in case. “Oh yeah?” “I shouldn't have left her like that. It wasn’t fair to her I just didn’t know what to do.” Chase explained and Rudy didn’t need to be a love doctor to know he was talking about you.

 “It’s been 2 weeks, she’s okay.” Rudy explained and Chase gave him a confused look. “When you guys broke up, I stayed in touch with her. She was mine friend too, and I felt bad that we all sort of dropped her when you guys broke up.” Chase nodded his head in understanding but was still jealous that Rudy got to talk to you. “Why did you break up with her? Not that I’m judging, I just thought things were going good between the two of you.”

 It was Chase’s turn to have a hit from the bong while he thought of his answer. “Shit man I don’t know. Things just feel different with Maddie then they did Y/N. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.” “Are you sure you’re not feeling too much as an actor oppose to being a person. Sometimes having a love interest on show can be different and confusing.” The blonde tried explaining to him but even he saw the demise of the relationship before Chase start acting with Madelyn. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Chase asked looking at Rudy and he could tell by the look in his eyes that it was doubtful. “You hurt her man. I think maybe one day, but not right now. I think right now she’s just trying to figure out how to do this without you.” Rudy could see the few tears in Chase’s eyes, and he knew that this wasn’t easy on him ether.

 Chase got up but before leaving he spoke one more time. “If you talk to her again, just tell her that I never meant to hurt her the way I did.” Chase still wasn’t sleepy but the effects of the marijuana did aid in his problem, so he finished off with a shower. He turned the water to steaming hot and then got in. He let the water soak his hair while he wondered what you were doing right now. It only took a few more minutes for the tears to start. Chase stayed another hour in the shower wondering if he made the right decision.

 'Cause this would be one whole lot easier God, I know that's selfish but it's true If underneath some calm exterior You're all fucked up too

 The first few months of quarantine had been rough on you working from home. You also felt alone all the time but seeing Chase’s Instagram post sent you spiraling down another unhealthy path. You had just started to get better. You weren’t drinking as much, and you had let your friends set you up on a group date. You knew you weren’t ready for another relationship just yet, but you also couldn’t hide in your apartment for the rest of your life.

 You had also been talking to Rudy a lot more. He had been your biggest support through all of this. He had flown back to LA a couple weeks ago to help you move to a new apartment. You figured if you were going to move on you had to move from the place you spent the most time with Chase. It was bittersweet because not only did you have good memories at the home with Chase, but those memories extended to your other friends as well. Rudy had ensured you that you would make knew memories in your new place.

 But when you woke up on June 14, 2020 you almost had a heart attack. It had been 3 months and 13 days to the day, and he had already moved on. Now you were stuck trying to grabble with the emotions you were feeling. In some messed up way at first you didn’t want him to be happy. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, but you knew it wasn’t right. There was a small part of you that was happy that he was now happy.

 Then you were reminded that you owed Chase his half of the damage deposit. Rudy had told you they all moved back to LA and were waiting for season one to come out. You debated on just giving the money to Rudy for him to pass along, but you also wanted to face Chase, to show him that you were now okay even it was a lie.

 You took the latter of the chooses and sent him a text. (Y/N) It’s Y/N, I have your half of the damage deposit from the apartment. I can drop it off or you can pick it up if you want. You stared at the text message for fifteen minutes before sending it. It only took five for him to answer and you dashed to look at the phone. (C) Oh shit I forgot about that. I mean if you want to keep it, that’s fine. You scowled at the text. You didn’t need or want his pity money. (Y/N) I’m fine without it, if your busy I can send it with Rudy the next time he’s here. (C) Okay, no that’s fine I can come by today and get it just air drop me your address. You did just that deciding against messaging him back.

 Chase’s heart fluttered a little when he saw your name come up on his phone. He hadn’t heard from you in months, and he assumed it was going to be about the post on his Instagram. He made the decision that Maddie made him the happy he wanted to be and left you. He had just gotten back in town when you told him about the deposit, and he didn’t mind letting you keep the money. It was the least he could do after everything he put your though. His heart sank when you declined his offer but lite back up when you offered for him to come over.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? With only cigarettes for company? Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 He honestly thought of this as his chance to apologize for everything that happened. You didn’t deserve for him to treat you like that, and he owed you an explanation. He drove over to your house, white knuckled the whole way. You lived in a small, gated apartment building and he remembered Rudy telling Maddie B. about it. He remembered Rudy saying how excited you were for a new place, and he wasn’t sure if Rudy was just saying that to upset him. Every time Rudy mentioned something about you it always made his heart sink underground and he was reminded about the way he treated you.

 Chase started to walk up the stairs to your apartment once you buzzed him in but to his surprise you were waiting outside on the step. You looked tired and had lost weight which worried him because you were small to begin with. “Hey.” He spoke not really knowing what else to say. “Hi.” You said and he could hear how sore your voice sounded almost like you had been crying. You were smoking, which was something new, but he figured this was just as stressful for you as it was him You handed him an envelope with his name on it. “Uh, I cleaned the whole apartment, and nothing was broken so we could all the money back. Your half is in there, so I just need your key to give to the landlord.” You explained looking at Chase. He pulled his keys from his pocket fumbling with the ring.

 “Y’know, I never meant”- “Please don’t” “Please don’t want?” Chase looked at you confused. He thought you wanted an apology. “I can’t listen to it Chase. I know it’s mean, but I’m not ready to hear you apologize. I’m just starting to get better, and I don’t need you to set me back again.” You explained looking him the eyes. He flinched when you said again. He handed the key back to you. “Thanks, I hope everything works out. I’ll make sure to watch the show.” You smiled at him and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you smile. He returned the smile before turning on his heels to leave. “For the record Y/N, you weren’t the only one to get hurt in this.” And it was your turn to flinch at his words. “I guess grief looks better on some people.” And with that you escaped back into your apartment sliding down the door letting out a silent cry. What you didn’t know was that Chase was going back to his car to the same thing.

TAGLIST:

@drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton @jjmaybankzz @lemur46

[decoolz]

A Piece of my WIP

This is part of my Work in Progress The John Laurens Alexander Hamilton Kissing book--working title (TJLAHKB) I am extremely nervous about sharing this, but I would like to see what people think about it. This is just under 3000 works so most of it will be under the cut. A new beginning. The mistakes of London and teenage fantasy were gone now, he was sure of it. All he had to do was take this meeting and the next few years of his life would be set. John stepped out of the coach and smoothed out his waistcoat. If he did this right, he’d be able to recover his reputation. No one would be talking about the rumors if he achieved glory on the battlefield. All he had to do was find General Washington’s command tent.

The camp smelled like twelve thousand people had been camping here for weeks. The sweet stench of rotting food nearly overpowered the unwashed smell of thousands of people gathered in quarters much too small. John searched the faces of passersby for someone to help, but not a single soul gave him a glance. No wonder the British had the upper hand. This was the encampment housing the head of the whole continental army and not a single person gave John a once over. He could be a spy wandering about. All this was going in his first letter to his father when he got situated.

“Excuse me!” John shouted at a boy who couldn’t possibly be old enough to enlist yet was running around the place as if he knew every inch of it. “I’m looking for General Washington’s tent. I have an appointment.”

“Good luck with that,” the boy chuckled. He turned and pointed toward the middle of camp. “See the big round one. That’s where you’ll wanna go. Hope you really got that appointment.”

“I’m Henry Laurens son. I don’t need an appointment,” John clarified rolling his eyes. “My father arranged for introductions.”

“Good on you,” the boy nodded, then ran off the way he was heading.

John continued to drag his footlocker across the dirt and dying grass up the path to the “big round tent,” silently judging every single one of the people who walked by him without offering to help or ask what he was doing wandering around this camp. From the looks of everyone’s dirty and mismatched attire, this wasn’t the kind of place where people took much care to observe anything.

He entered Washington’s tent without once being stopped. Setting his footlocker out of the way, he straightened his waistcoat again before approaching the desk in the middle of the space. The man bent over the desk didn’t bother to acknowledge him when he entered. John cleared his throat thrice before the young redheaded man looked up for his work.

“How may I be of assistance?” he asked with an unrecognizable accent. “I’m assuming you’re not the Frenchman. Are you one of his staff?”

“I am French but I’m from South Carolina,” John replied. He pulled his letter of introduction from his inside pocket as he stepped closer to the desk. The man behind it appeared altogether uninterested. “I’m Henry Laurens’s son, I’m here to have a meeting with General Washington to join this regiment.”

“He’s not taking meetings today,” the clerk replied. “I can schedule you for later this week if you’d like. What is your business with the General?” He licked the end of his quill and met John’s eyes.

“No, you misunderstand me,” John said, shaking his head. “Henry Laurens is my father. He wrote to General Washington and told him to expect me this week. I don’t need an appointment, he’s expecting me.”

The clerk clicked his tongue. “Right. You still need an appointment. The General is a busy man. He isn’t going to stop running the army because some self-important rich man’s son is going to show up at some point this week. I can write you in for an appointment tomorrow if you like. Should I write in Henry’s son or do you have a name of your own I can use?”

“No,” John shook his head. “I should be able to see him today. He’s expecting me. He told my father he’s looking for a French translator to help with correspondence and the like. He made it pretty clear the post had to be filled post haste.”

“Right … but you see, that’s not how it works,” the clerk explained, speaking slowly as if John was a simpleton. “In order to get into see General Washington, you need an appointment. I make the appointments. I would highly recommend you stop being a jackass and give me your Christian name so I can put it in the ledger for tomorrow.”

John took a deep breath. Clearly, this man didn’t understand who he was speaking to or he wouldn’t continue to be so obstructive. He’d be sure to put this in his letter to his father as well, he’ll have this scrawny boy’s job by the end of the week.

“Listen, Mister…”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” the redhead gentleman corrected.

“Fine then,” John scoffed. “Lieutenant Colonel, I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. I have a letter of introduction from my father with the understanding that I am to meet with his excellency when I arrive at camp. I am here. So, if you please, announce my arrival.”

“You seem to have poor comprehension skills, which honestly looks bad if you’re trying to get a job as a translator. There must be a meeting set up and penciled into this ledger before you can see him.” He held up the ledger for John to look at. “As you see here, today he is booked solid since he’s in the city meeting with a Frenchman who will be joining the ranks. So even if I wanted to let you in to see him—which don’t misunderstand I do not—I can’t because he’s not even in there. But if you give me your name, and not refer to yourself as your father’s son, I can write you in for tomorrow.”

“But I have a letter of introduction,” John extended his hand with the papers toward the boy.

“Go for you,” the Lieutenant Colonel nodded. “What is your name? I can set up an appointment for tomorrow at one in the afternoon right after luncheon.”

“My father said--”

“Listen,” the other man pulled a hand down his face and sighed loudly. “We seem to be at an impasse here. You need an appointment. I honestly don’t give a shit what your father said, because he’s not here. I am. I control the ledger book with the appointments. I already informed you against my better judgment that General Washington isn’t even in camp at present. I’m not sure what it is you think you’re going to accomplish by arguing with me about it. Give me your name I’ll write you in for tomorrow right after luncheon and you can go relax at the inn up the road for the rest of the day and stop bothering me.”

“This won’t do,” John shook his head. “I was promised a meeting when I arrived.”

The other man blinked slowly, shook his head, picked up his quill, and continued whatever it was he was working in when John walked in. After several tense moments of silence, John cleared his throat again for attention.

“Oh, you’re still here. Again, your meeting is tomorrow at one. I wrote down ‘Henry’s son’ so they’ll be no confusion as to how important you are. If you insist on staying in my office to wait for your scheduled time, you are more than welcome to sit in one of the terribly uncomfortable wooden chairs on the side there. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

John sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from yelling and let several short quick breaths out through his nose.

“What is your name?” John demanded. “I would like to make sure Congress knows exactly the kind of riff-raff General Washington has in his employment.”

“And yet here you are trying to join our ranks,” the redheaded man met John’s gaze with a sickeningly sweet fake smile.

“Hamilton!” A head poked around the entrance of the tent. An older man with the same green pin on his hat as the clerk. “Are you set to take a break for luncheon or is Lucy bringing you a tray?”

“No, I’ll come with you,” the redheaded man, Hamilton evidently, said. He straightened his desk and stood. “It’s Wednesday.”

As he came around the desk, John got his first good look at this Hamilton. He couldn’t be taller than five and a half feet. John could probably put his hands around the man’s waist and his fingers would touch. He looked far more like a boy than someone in charge of something as important as General Washington’s ledger.

“Are you going to invite your friend?” the other man asked, gesturing to John.

“Not my friend,” Hamilton grumbled. “You can join us for a meal if you want. Or wait until we leave and look to see that no one is in Washington’s office and pout about it. Just don’t touch my desk.” He didn’t bother turning toward John as he said it.

“Will my footlocker be safe here?” John asked, stepping toward the other men.

“Sure,” Hamilton shrugged. He pushed passed the other man out into the sweltering camp.

“Is he always so delightful?” John asked.

“You must have got him on a good day,” the other man joked. “He’s usually much worse. Richard Meade, Virginia.” He extended his hand to John.

This was more of the kind of welcome he was expecting. “John Laurens, South Carolina.”

“Son of the senator,” Meade smiled. “Rumor has it he’s a lock for the presidency when Hancock retires.”

“That’s what he tells me,” John nodded.

Hamilton waited; arms crossed over his chest for the others then led the way to the mess tent walking a quick clip about twenty paces ahead of them.

“Personally, I think it’ll be great for the union to finally have some southern influence at the helm of Congress. I think we’ve heard enough from Boston and New York for a bit.”

“Those men are the catalyst for the revolution,” John countered. “However, I do agree, if we are to be our own country it makes sense to listen to men from all parts of it.”

John let Meade lead him through the buffet line and tried not to gawk as Hamilton shamelessly flirted with a young brunette woman serving the warm rolls until she slipped an extra one to him.

“Is that the reason he was so eager to come to luncheon on Wednesday?”

“No,” Meade replied as they walked toward their table. “That would be Lucy. She’s around here somewhere. On Wednesdays, she helps with the dishes.”

“Hamilton is that man then?” John sighed, taking a seat across the table from Meade. Hamilton sat a little way down the table, toward the end on Meade’s side. John knew plenty of men just like that back in London. Men who shamelessly debased themselves in front of women for tiniest scrap of attention. Hamilton didn’t quite fit the usual formula for such a man, but John had to admit there was something about him that made it hard to pull his eyes away from the scrawny redhead.

Across the table, Meade rested his hat on the bench beside him. He was slightly older than John, maybe about thirty. This was the type of man John expected to find working for General Washington, a learned Southern Gentleman from a prominent family who knew the order of things. If Meade had been behind the desk when John walked in, everything would be taken care of by now.

“Forgive me for prying,” John said between bites of a watery but rather flavorful stew. “But since I will be joining this merry group of soldiers, may I ask about the dynamic of the inner circle?”

Meade laughed, his green eyes brightening as a crooked smile crossed his face. “I take it your father arranged for you to be the French interpreter we’re looking for. If that’s the case you’ll be working closely with your new best friend, Mister Hamilton. He handles most of the correspondence and does quite a bit of the planning and strategy for small missions. He’s the brains of it.”

“French interpreter was the plan, yeah, apparently a letter of introduction and a promise from my father isn’t enough to have an audience with His Excellency. I also need an arbitrary appointment and to dance for a five-foot-tall boy who thinks too much of himself.”

“Hamilton will be the first to tell you, he’s five foot seven,” Meade smiled. “General Washington is in Philadelphia today meeting with a French General who’s come to help us. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

This was supposed to be the easy part. The last couple of years had been an awful pile of hardship and stupid mistakes. Joining the army was supposed to be the first step in the right direction. All he had to do was show up and the rest would take care of itself. He wouldn’t have to deal with people looking at him sideways or whispers behind hands at society events. As he learned more about camp John did his best to remember that he wasn’t another setback, but a pause. Tomorrow would be different.

He turned toward the end of the table where Hamilton was batting his eyes at an enraptured blonde woman in a light blue gown. Something familiar started to bubble inside John, somewhere between jealousy and contempt. When the woman was called away, Hamilton slid over to join John and Meade for the rest of the meal.

“What do you think, Ricky? Will this son of Henry will fit in our merry band of aides-de-camp?”

Meade nodded as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “It’ll be fine Hamilton. The two of you should figure out how to get along. If Mister Laurens will be working French translations, you’ll most likely be sharing a desk.”

Hamilton groaned, and let his head fall back, just as enthused about the prospect as John was.

“You’re at least learned in French though?” Hamilton asked. “Fluent? We have a remarkable number of Frenchmen coming to take up this cause”

John nodded. He’d been taught by his mother as a boy and then in some of the finest schools he could be sent to in Europe. Hamilton continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I gotta head back,” Hamilton wiped his mouth his sleeve and stood quickly walking off with his dishes, handing them to the servant whose job it was to clear plates from the tables when they were finished eating. John’s eyes never left him as he smiled and laughed his way into taking an extra pear from the young woman who gave him the extra bread.

 “An acquired taste, but I assure you he’d a good egg,” Meade said, pulling John’s attention back to the last of his meal. “He’s probably the smartest person in the army, including General Washington.”

 John caught Hamilton walking backward out of the mess tent with a wink to the women at the serving stations and doubted very much that a man like that could surprise him.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out to the inn, make sure you’re settled.” Meade stood and placed his hat atop his head. “It’s decent accommodation over there. Savor it, my friend, you’ll be living on a straw mattress on the bottom bunk until we move for winter camp.”

Once settled in the single room of the inn, John dug through his belongings for his stationary to write the promised letter to his father. So far, this journey wasn’t what he was hoping for, but tomorrow looked promising with the appointment scheduled to accept him into service. He was sure his education and experience would be just what General Washington needed. If he did end up working alongside that Hamilton fellow as Meade said, he’d be able to teach that man a little bit of tack. Show him how a man from Southern Society—like General Washington himself—should act.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​ @primusk​​ @itswormtrain​​​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray​​​​ for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman. 

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard. 

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?” 

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet. 

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.” 

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching. 

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked. 

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned. 

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood. 

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.” 

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to. 

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.” 

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.” 

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do. 

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.” 

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off. 

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie. 

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said. 

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point. 

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?” 

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.  

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.” 

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.” 

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance. 

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop. 

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.” 

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.” 

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed. 

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were. 

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome. 

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly. 

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,” 

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -” 

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said. 

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside. 

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!” 

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything. 

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson. 

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said. 

“Good night, ma’am, sir.” 

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural. 

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her. 

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.” 

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said. 

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered. 

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck. 

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

 There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject. 

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her. 

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.” 

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated. 

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding. 

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze. 

“Dick?” 

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix. 

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.” 

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.” 

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too. 

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.” 

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.” 

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it. 

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other. 

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.” 

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…” 

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words. 

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.” 

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it. 

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do. 

 He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock. 

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” he called. 

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked. 

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.” 

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.” 

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.” 

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain. 

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself. 

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.  

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it. 

“I got something for you,” he said. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock. 

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real. 

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.” 

“And you remembered?” she wondered. 

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle. 

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.  

“You’re welcome,” he returned. 

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking. 

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?” 

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous. 

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her. 

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.” 

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” 

“Take your time,” he said gently. 

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst. 

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.” She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left. 

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard. 

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.” 

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.” 

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked. 

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic. 

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face. 

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.” 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest. 

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.” 

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.” 

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that. 

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all. 

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.” 

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right. 

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.” 

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.” 

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 12.

Chapter 12: Jealous and Undercover

(Not my gif)

Summary: Hotch has Derek and Bridgett go undercover to catch an unsub in a swingers club. Spencer gets jealous and reminds Bridgett who she is coming home to at the end of the night.

TW: Mentions of murder, talk of partner swapping, jealous Spencer, teasing Spencer (clit playing), unwanted touching, getting attacked by the unsub, more teasing, sexual innuendos. 

Word Count: 3.6k

A.N.: This is season 10 Spencer! Also, I think I’m going to be putting out 2 chapters a week (Saturdays and Wednesdays)! Lets see how it goes first! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you know if Maddy or Kevin had any problems with anyone at their work? Or just anyone in general?” Derek questions the best friend of Maddy, one of the victims in the murder.

The girl sniffles, wiping tears from her eyes. “No. They were both nice, warm people. Maddy was always the first to volunteer at their daughter Maya's school field trips, PTA meetings. Kevin was hard working, but everyone loved him. Who would do this? Maya lost both of her parents.”

Bridgett hands the woman a tissue. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We read your statement you gave to the police and you said you were with them Saturday night, dinner, drinks; did you notice anyone suspicious when you were out?”

The woman sighs, staying silent.

“You know something you’re not telling us, Desiree. Talk to us.” Bridgett states.

“There’s a club that a friend of ours owns… it’s a swingers club. That’s where we were on Saturday. My husband and I went along with them and our partners got traded. I’m not sure the name of the man that Maddy ended up with but Kevin never lets her go alone.”

“So it’s a threesome?” Derek asks.

“Not always. Sometimes Kevin would watch while Maddy… you know.”

“How many times have you been there?” Bridgett questions.

“The four of us together… six or seven times. I think Maddy and Kevin went more frequently.”

“We’re going to need the name of the club, as well as the partners you and your husband had.”

***

“So all the victims went to the same swingers club. Club Encounters.” JJ says.

“They had to have met the unsub at the club. And had sex with him.” Rossi adds.

“Or let him watch.” Spencer says, writing something on the board in front of him.

“We need to get in the club. It’s Friday night so it’s most likely going to be packed.” Bridgett suggests.

“She’s right. Bridgett you and Morgan get dressed, you’ll be going undercover as a couple to get into the club.”

Bridgett looks over at Derek, suppressing a smile and raising her eyebrow at him. Spencer spins around quickly, not looking thrilled with Hotch’s plan. Bridgett makes eye contact with her boyfriend across from her and gives him a “calm down” look.

“Sir? We’ll be going undercover as a couple?” Bridgett questions.

“Married couple. Get back to the hotel and get ready. Be back here by 8pm. Everyone else, work on calling the names of the partners and asking them if they know anything.” Hotch leaves the room, leaving the rest of the team smirking at Derek and Bridgett.

“Let’s head back to get ready for our night out, Mrs. Morgan.” Derek jokes before walking out.  

Bridgett bites her bottom lip to prevent herself from smiling at his joke. Spencer pouts at Derek as he passes by, Derek paying him no mind. Bridgett gets up from her seat, grabbing her stuff and following Derek.

“Could I come with you guys… back to the hotel? There’s something I need to grab.” Spencer says, running to catch up with them.

“Yeah, come on pretty boy.”

***

“Come on, mama! You have like 10 more minutes before we have to leave.” Derek calls out from the other side of the door.

“Okay give me like 2 more minutes!” She responds, fluffing her hair up again.

Derek sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the watch on his wrist. Spencer was on the other side of the room, still not liking the arrangement that was going on. Derek scoffs out a laugh at Spencer’s visible pout on his face, looking like a child who was told they couldn’t get a second piece of cake for dessert.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Derek asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hmm, nothing. Just uhh, thinking about the case.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying right?”

The bathroom door opens up, Bridgett stepping out in a sexy tight white dress, the dress ending mid thigh ,and baby pink high heels. Spencer bites his lip, taking in the beauty that is his girlfriend. Derek’s eyes scanned his coworker’s body, shocked that she looked sexy as hell.

“I need help tying my dress.” Bridgett says, turning around and moving her hair to the side. Her entire back was exposed, both the men could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, which drove Spencer up the wall.

Derek looks over at Spencer, motioning him to Bridgett. Spencer clears his throat, walking over to her and tying the little strings together on her dress up for her. Bridgett turns around and smiles, fixing her hair to flow down her back, completely oblivious to the gawking stares both of them were giving her.

“Well, what do you think?” She asks, smiling at both men, doing a spin.  

“I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but god damn you look good.” Derek gawks, making Bridgett’s cheeks get hot.

Spencer shoots him a dirty look, wrapping his arm around Bridgett, and giving her forehead a kiss.

Derek stands up, grinning. “I’ll give you two lovebirds a minute. But you need to be downstairs in less than 5 minutes.”

“Yes sir.” Bridgett replies, giving him a sarcastic salute.

Spencer rolls his eyes, tilting Bridgett’s chin up toward him and forcefully kissing her after Derek walks out of the room. Bridgett moans against him, tangling her fingers in his hair immediately. Her free hand slides up his chest wrapping her hand around his tie and pulling him close. Spencer pulls the end of her dress up over her butt, exposing her skimpy underwear. He pulls back from the kiss, looking down at her practically see through white panties.

“Is someone jealous that Derek and I are playing a couple?” Bridgett teases, nipping at his jaw.

Spencer slips his finger under the elastic of her panties and lightly circles the wet bud between her legs. Bridgett grips his arm, moaning loudly.

“You’re coming back to me, tonight, Bridgett. And in this outfit, you understand me?” He speaks in a deep voice, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Y-yes sir.” She mutters, trying to keep her composure. Spencer draws his fingers back out, coating his lips with her wetness as he licks his fingers clean. Bridgett presses her lips against his, tasting herself on his plump lips.

“Let’s go before Derek comes back up here.” He says, biting the side of her neck roughly. Bridgett yelps, laughing, massaging the area.

“I like jealous Spencer.” She states, fixing her dress and grabbing her clutch.

“Hey,” Spencer calls, pulling her toward him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And, don’t worry, Derek and I aren’t going to do ‘swinger’ stuff, alright. We’re just trying to catch the unsub.”

“Yeah, I know.” Spencer says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, giving her a small forced smile.

Bridgett strokes his cheek softly, looking at his brown eyes. “Come on,  my love.” She says, pulling his arm out of his pocket and holding it in hers as they walk out of the room.

***

“Can you hear us?” Hotch asks through the earpiece in Bridgett’s ear hidden by her hair.

“Yes, sir.” Bridgett replies, walking arm and arm with Derek through the busy club. There were people dancing together on the dance floor, grinding against each other and making out. “I’m not trying to judge, but I can’t imagine sharing my significant other. I’m not good at sharing. I failed that part of kindergarten.” Bridgett jokes.

“You just have to pretend to share me, pretty girl.” Derek says. They both sit at the bar, sipping the fake cocktails they ordered. Derek wraps his arm around Bridgett’s waist, pulling her close to him.

Bridgett stiffens up around his grasp, her eyes flying over to him and growing wide.

“Hey mama, you gotta relax. I know you’re nervous, you haven’t done a lot of undercover stuff, but you gotta loosen up. We’re playing the part.”

Bridgett nods her head, resting her hand on his thigh, kissing his cheek. Derek nuzzles his head in her neck. It felt so weird cuddling up to a different man, and her boyfriend’s best friend nonetheless. As they were “fake” flirting, Bridgett’s eyes scan the room, fixating on a man that was staring them down.

“Derek, blonde man in a blue jean jacket in the left corner, black rimmed glasses.”

Derek picks his head up nonchalantly, turning it slowly toward the left corner of the club. Derek eyes him, studying his face and his body language. The man was definitely checking the two of them out.

“You see the scratch marks on the side of his neck?” Derek says in her ear.

Bridgett nods her head. “Carolina Doane had DNA under her fingernails, but they couldn’t identify it. Come here.” Bridgett takes Derek’s hand, leading him through the crowd over to the man. He takes a swig of his drink, eyeing the couple.

“Hey. Saw you checking us out from across the room. You like what you see?” Bridgett asks.

“Have a seat.” The man offers the chair across from him. Derek sits down first, Bridgett sitting on his lap. Derek snakes his arm around the front of her waist, keeping her in place.

“What’s your name, handsome?” Bridgett asks him.

“Connor Campbell. And you two?”

“I’m Isabelle, and this is my husband, Danny.”

“What are you looking for?” The man asks, taking another drink from the glass in his hand.  

“Well to tell you the truth it’s our first time here. We’re new to the swinging game. But I think I want double the fun.” Bridgett replies, “I don’t like to share but I like to be shared.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“You come with anyone?” Derek asks.

“No. I came here alone. Easier for people to approach me. You want to head out of here? I have somewhere we can go.”

“Go with him. But try to keep him from going home. Garcia searched his name and we have units at his house searching for evidence. Try to stall.” Hotch’s voice rings from her ear.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Bridgett says, standing up off Derek’s lap.

As the three of them headed out of the club, the potential unsub was getting handsy behind Bridgett as they made their way through the crowd, touching on her ass and hips. Once they made it outside together Bridgett walked in the middle of the two men. Clinging onto Connor’s arm and touching his chest, trying to make it look like she was interested in him.

“You’re an eager little one aren’t you?” Connor moans, slapping her ass. Bridgett bites her tongue to hide the disgust on her face.

“Yeah, it’s what I love about her. She’s very eager to please.” Derek replies, giving her hand a comforting squeeze, he could tell she was uncomfortable.

“Why don’t we get the party started in the car? I’m kinda into the voyeurism thing.” Bridgett says, slipping her hand under his shirt.

“You good with that, man? With me touching your wife in front of you?” He turns his head to Derek waiting for permission, even though he was already touching both sides of her hips.

Bridgett gives Derek a nod subtly, letting him know it was okay.  

“She’s all yours. You be a good girl and listen to him, got it?” Derek says, playing into this role too well.

She shoots Derek a nervous look behind Connor’s shoulder before he turns back around, Bridgett faking a smile at the man as he begins to touch her inner thigh, breathing heavily against her neck. He reeked of disgusting musty  cologne, cigarettes, and the whisky he was drinking inside. She was going to need a bleach bath after this was over.

“How much pleasure can you really get from your husband since you want to be shared?” He whispers to her, groping her breasts.

“And you think you can please me?” Bridgett asks.

“You’ve never wondered what it’s like to be with someone who can give you all the pleasure in the world, sweetheart?”  

Gag.

“We got him. He’s the unsub. Take him down, we’re on our way.” Hotch says in the earpiece.

“FBI, step away from her and put your hands up.” Derek says, drawing the gun on him.

Connor grabs Bridgett by the throat, pushing her against the brick building behind her. Her head bounces against the wall at the force he grabs her. Bridgett sinks her nails into his face, scratching him and attempting to push him off of her. His grip tightens around her windpipe as they struggle with each other, making her cough and gasp for air. Derek grabs Connor by his shirt collar, throwing him to the ground. As Connor’s hand drops from her neck, Bridgett loses her balance from the heels and falls to the ground, still choking and coughing. She watches Derek get on top of him and handcuff him.

“You good?” Derek asks, motioning over to her.

“Fine.” She chokes out, her voice sounding hoarse, still coughing deeply.

Two black SUVs pull up on the sidewalk next to them, the red and blue lights flashing, the team running out to help Derek and Bridgett.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks, helping Bridgett up off the ground.

“My head.” She moans out.

JJ turns her head, touching the spot that was sore on her scalp.  Bridgett winces and whines at the stinging on her head.

“You’re bleeding. We’ll call you to a medic.” JJ walks with her to the car, placing her in it while she speaks over the walkie for an ambulance. Bridgett shivered at the cold breeze from the wind and the blasting car AC.

“Here, sweetheart.” Kate takes the coat in her hand and wraps it around Bridgett’s shoulders. She has a towel in her hand as well and gently applies pressure to the back of her head.

“Thank you. Where’s Spence?”

“He’s with Derek, he’ll be here in a second. You did a good job catching the unsub, Bridgett. When the police got to his house there was another couple there, they were tied up and had been there for 2 days. They said he was torturing them and told them after tonight they’re agony would be over.”

Spencer walks up to Bridgett, his face softening once he sees her. “Hi, babe.” He says softly, bringing her in for a tight hug.

Bridgett nuzzles into his neck for comfort, relaxing against him. “Hi, baby.”

Spencer pulls away, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “The ambulance is here. Let’s get you checked out.” Spencer takes the towel from Kate, smiling at her and thanking her for taking care of Bridgett. Spencer guides her to the ambulance, letting the man take a look at the wound on the back of her head. He stayed by her side the whole time, holding her hand as they cleaned up the bit of blood on her head which stung more than anything.

“Do you have someone that can stay with you to make sure you don’t develop a concussion?” The paramedic asks.

“Yeah, she’s staying with me.” Spencer replies.

“Okay good. I’ll give you a list of questions you need to ask her every hour. If she starts to slur her words, throws up, has a seizure you need to bring her into the hospital. Keep ice on your head, avoid sleep for the next 6-8 hours.”

“Got it.” Bridgett mutters, keeping the ice pack he gave her on her head.

***

“I’ll make us some coffee since we’re not sleeping until tomorrow.” Spencer says, helping Bridgett sit on the bed.

“I need a shower. Desperately. I can still feel his disgusting hands on my skin.” Bridgett slips the heels off her feet, rolling her ankles around. Without asking, Spencer unzips her dress for her, sitting next to her.

“I gotta ask you the questions before you shower.” He says, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Spence, no you don’t. I’m fine.” Bridgett replies, taking her arms out of the sleeves of her dress, shimmying out of the dress the rest of the way, leaving her in only her panties.

Spencer’s eyes grow wide, his pupils dilating at the sight of his half naked girlfriend. He clears his throat, looking back at the paper. “What’s your name?”

Bridgett sighs, rolling her eyes and walking toward the bathroom. “Bridgett Rhonda Mendez.” She calls from the shower, turning the water on.

“How old are you?” Spencer’s voice seems closer. She pokes her head out from behind the curtain, chucking at him leaning against the sink. She draws the curtain back, fully on display and wet. Spencer sits in the closed toilet seat, trying not to look at her.

“I’m 27.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“In the shower. Waiting for my boyfriend to join me. He told me that I was coming back to him when the night was over.”

Spencer licks his lips, looking back at the paper. “Umm, what day of the week is it, today’s date, and the month?”

“Friday September 16th. Are we done?” Bridgett asks, slowly lathering the body soap all over her torso.

Spencer watches her for a few seconds, contemplating taking his clothes off and joining her.

Emily had a good point, Spencer had an IQ of 178, but a woman walks by, or in this case is sudsy in front of him, it drops down to 60.

Spencer looks down at the paper in his hand, he knew what was written on it, but he needed to look away from his girlfriend. “What happened prior to you hitting your head?”

Bridgett turns the shower head off, grabbing the towel off the rack next to the tub and dries her wet body off. Spencer’s eyes not leaving her glistening body.

Get it together, Spencer. Fucking Christ.

“Campbell was trying to get me in the mood by talking creepy to me. Hotch said to take him down and Derek drew his gun on Campbell. Then he grabbed me by my throat and choked me out against the wall.” Bridgett looked into Spencer’s eyes the whole time she was summarizing her night, drying the “fun” parts of her body off.

“You’re good… no concussion.” Spencer mutters, stuffing the piece of paper back in his pocket.

Bridgett leans up to kiss Spencer, making sure to press against him a little extra. “Do I get anything… special for answering all my questions right?”

He swears he feels his whole body jump at the feeling of her hot, silky smooth skin pressed up fully against him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well… I got a bump on my head and even though the paramedic did a good job with making sure I’m okay, I think I need a doctor’s opinion.” Bridgett whispers in his ear, nipping at the spot behind his ear. “I think I need a full body exam to make sure I’m okay and not broken.”

“Well, I’m not an actual medical doctor, Bridge.”

Bridgett laughs at the fact that her attempt at being sexy went right over his head, just like every other time. At this point he should know all of her sexual advances. She presses her forehead against his shoulder for a second, trying not to make him feel bad for laughing.

“Spencer, I know. I’m trying to tell you to fuck me without actually saying the words.”

“Oh, right. Well, let’s give you that examination.”

***

“Okay, what’s your next question?” Bridgett asks, grabbing a handful of popcorn and taking a few bites.

“Have you given thought to us moving in together?” Spencer asks.

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide, Spencer took the game to a whole new level with his question. First they were just asking random questions that Bridgett found online like, “Have you ever practiced kissing in a mirror?” To which Bridgett learned that Spencer had. Now he was getting deep.

“The thought has crossed my mind a few times.” Bridgett replies with a smile. “Same question to you.”

“You said we couldn’t repeat questions!” Spencer says.

Bridgett playfully rolls her eyes, laughing to herself. “Okay, okay. In the next… 6 months do you see us living together?”

Spencer gives her a flat face, “You realize you asked me the same question in just different words?” He tosses an M&M at her, the candy hitting her chest and rolling down her cleavage. Spencer laughs, throwing his arms up in the air.

Bridgett airs her shirt out, the candy rolling out the bottom into the bed, she grabs it and pops it in her mouth.

“Really?”

“Really what? They’re my boobs! I know where they’ve been! And I showered! They’re clean! You’ve eaten things off my boobs before!  Don’t avoid my question!” Bridgett says loudly.

“I would say less than 6 months.”

“Really? You want to wake up every morning to me, have to deal with me all the time? Always somewhere in the apartment everywhere you turn and look? Imagine all my hair ties all over the place. You’ve started a collection in a jar at my apartment because I keep losing them.”

Spencer nods his head, “We already spend all our time together outside the job, I wake up next to you all the time, and I love it. I think it makes sense for us to live together officially.”

“Okay, well my lease ends in the next few months. I won’t renew it when it’s over.” Bridgett smiles, leaning over their snack pile to give him a kiss.

The tone of the kiss turns quickly once Bridgett starts to move the snacks out of her way to get closer to Spencer.

“I have to ask you the concussion questions again.” He says quickly, still trying to recover from the sex they had less than 45 minutes ago.

Bridgett groans, rolling her eyes. “If I could answer the questions in the middle of us having sex, and I answered them right, I think my brain is fine.”

[everybodyscupoftea]

to grandmother’s house we go

sigma chi jj x reader

you bring jj to your family’s christmas

ope. two days late again 

(warnings: a little bit of cursing, minor editing)

The first Christmas JJ came home with you, you felt like you should warn him. The two of you had been together for just over two years, and he was used to your immediate family, but your extended family was a different story.

“Okay,” you started when he crossed over the state line into your home state, “I feel like I should say that we aren’t going to be at my house much.”

“What?” he asked, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, um, my family normally goes to stay out of town with my Grandma. We do one half of the family on Christmas Eve and the other half on Christmas Day.”

JJ raised his eyebrows, “Your family knows I’m coming right? Like your extended family?”

“Yeah, definitely! My mom told them.”

“And they were okay with it?” he asked, sounding cautious.

“They’re eager to meet you,” you reassured him, “I think they’re just happy to see me finally dating someone.”

He snorted, “Yikes.”

“Yeah, well, my family lives to pressure my sister and I into marriage.”

“Wait,” he looked a little panicked, “they’re not expecting us to be engaged, right?”

“No, but they might bring it up. Just ignore it.”

“I-” he cut himself off, “okay, if you say so.”

You were just glad the conversation had gone as well as it did.

-

“Three hours?” JJ hissed at you when your dad took both of your duffle bags out of the car and stuck them in your parents’ trunk.

“It’s a long drive,” you offered innocently, “but at least you don’t have to drive.”

“Nope, just get to sit in the backseat.”

“J, at least you get a window seat, I’m sitting in the middle.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah and you’re going to fall asleep on me no more than 45 minutes in.”

“Slander,” you protested.

Your sister walked out in time to hear him and she laughed, “He’s right.”

“You can’t talk,” you argued, “you’re worse than me.”

“Twins,” she singsonged in a high pitched voice, and you rolled your eyes.

“Brought headphones for this ride thank god.”

“I can be louder than headphones,” she spoke confidently.

JJ let you climb in first before reaching across you to give your sister a fist bump, and you sighed, “I hate that you two know each other. Y’all are the worst together.”

He squeezed your thigh, “You love us.”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered.

-

You did fall asleep, but much to your satisfaction, so did JJ. Your sister woke you up first when you pulled into your grandma’s driveway, elbowing you straight in the ribs. Jolting, you woke up JJ immediately, and his head flew up from where it was resting on top of yours, looking around wildly.

“Christ,” you muttered, glaring at your sister, “that was rude as hell.”

“I got a cute picture of you two.”

You paused, “Okay, send it to me.”

JJ blinked adorably, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings, and mumbled, “Did we make it?”

“Yeah, bud,” you told him, grabbing his hand.

He smiled softly, maybe even a little thankfully, and took a deep breath, “Okay, let’s do this.” 

“If it makes you feel better,” your sister leaned around you to talk to him, “you aren’t meeting the problematic side of our family until tomorrow.” 

JJ paused for a second to process, then nodded, “That does actually, thank you.” 

Before you could say anything else, JJ climbed out of the car, seemingly more awake, to help your dad carry in the bags and presents for his side of the family. Your dad nodded at him, a satisfied little smile on his face, “Thanks, son.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” 

Together they carried them through the porch to where your grandma was waiting with the door open. Your sister muttered, “Kiss up,” under her breath, and you snorted. 

“He’s trying to make a good impression on grandma and pawpaw, we both know that they’re super laid back and judge more based on conversational ability, but he doesn’t.” 

She widened her eyes at you, “You didn’t tell him?” 

“I didn’t tell him we were staying here until like five hours ago.” 

“Oh my god,” she muttered, “you’re actually a disaster.” 

-

Your grandma cooked dinner, traditional Christmas dinner with the turkey and ham, macaroni and cheese, dressing, sweet potato casserole, and green beans. JJ was staring at it in confusion, arms stiffly by his side even though you knew he’d normally have an arm around your shoulder.

Leaning into his side a little, you told him, “We eat steak on the actual holiday here, that’s why it’s traditional early. You don’t have to look so scared, bud. I promise they’re super chill.” 

“What does everyone want to drink?” your grandma asked before JJ could react.

“Water,” you answered, and JJ nodded, signalling the same. 

“Guests first,” your pawpaw urged, and JJ hesitantly grabbed one of the plates in the stack to start filling it up. He was careful to not spill anything, and his grip on the plate was like steel. You reached over to pat his hand in some sort of effort to soothe him, and he relaxed the slightest bit.

Until he finished and walked over to the table where there were five spots for 10 people. You almost ran into his back, “J, what’s wrong.” 

“Where do I sit,” he hissed, clearly anxious about it.

“Find a place with a glass of water and sit there. It’s not like assigned,” you answered, secretly hoping you could steer him toward the seat you normally sat in.

You did, and he sat down, not starting to eat right off the bat until he saw you dig in. It was slow, as if he was trying to wait for everyone to sit down, but you elbowed him until he picked up the pace.

“I’m trying to be polite,” he whispered.

“Trust me, you wanna hit the dessert before my dad.” 

JJ snorted, finally relaxing a bit. Your grandma, cousin and his girlfriend, and sister sat down next and immediately started asking JJ questions about his major, his frat, his favorite hobbies, and what he wanted to do in the future.

That he’d gone through before, with your immediate family, and he had the answers on deck. He spoke confidently, and you could tell your grandma was impressed. It helped him relax, and by the time everyone moved to the living room to watch a Christmas movie before bed, he sat on the couch next to you and was even comfortable enough to put an arm around your shoulder.

When he left to get ready for bed in the one bathroom, your pawpaw finally spoke up, “He’s a good kid.” 

“He’s the best,” you agreed.

“We got him a gift,” your aunt added, “so that he has something to open on Christmas Day.” 

You teared up, knowing it would mean the world to him. JJ didn’t talk about his childhood much, especially holidays. You knew he had no interest in going home to his dad, and from what you did know, there was never much of a Christmas celebration involving gifts.

“Thank you guys so much,” you finally managed.

-

Immediately JJ went straight back into discomfort mode as soon as your family walked into your aunt’s house. Everyone was already there, and the small house felt stuffed.

You leaned close, “Party vibes, huh? Should be pretty familiar.”

He snorted, “Not even close.”

“This is the problematic side,” your sister reminded him, “they’ll definitely get in your business and you’re going to hear a ton of small town gossip.”

“ The gossip is pretty interesting,” you admitted, “but the yearly questioning isn’t the best.”

“How often do you see your family?” JJ asked.

“Christmas. And sometimes a trip during the summer.”

He hummed, and followed you and your sister deeper into the house. Your sister took over, introducing him to whoever you ran into on the way. You could hear your mom in the kitchen catching up with her sister, and your dad took his normal spot on the couch with your uncle and cousins.

JJ shook hands with your favorite cousin, who immediately started asking him questions.

“How’d you two meet?”

Glancing over at you, JJ cleared his throat, “We were in the same orientation group and became friends through that.”

He hummed, looking at the two of you skeptically before turning back to JJ, “Major?”

“Marine biology.”

“You fish?”

JJ nodded eagerly, finally in his element, “Definitely.”

“Saltwater or fresh?”

“Either, but back home mostly salt.”

Your cousin looked impressed, “Where are you from?”

“Outer Banks of North Carolina.”

“Sometime when it warms back up, you’ll have to come visit again and we’ll go fishing.”

“Looking forward to it.”

JJ relaxed, stretching back into the couch a bit while the conversation picked back up around him. Your cousins’ kids were in another room napping, and you leaned over to him, “We’re getting the gossip early while the kids sleep. Board games after lunch.”

And as you explained, your grandmother dove into the rumors she’d heard about the new pastor in town. She leaned forward and you knew it was going to be a particularly interesting take.

“And then we saw the preacher’s wife smoking a cigarette outside the movie theatre.”

Your sister dramatically gasped, “How dare she?”

You snorted, but your grandmother, used to ignoring both of you, kept on talking until she finally came back around and landed on your sister.

“Your sister has a boyfriend, when will you be bringing one for us to meet?” she asked.

“Well, whenever I can get a boy to like me, I guess.”

She looked at JJ, “Are you planning on marrying my granddaughter.”

He froze, staring at your grandmother with wide eyes, “We haven’t really, uh, talked about marriage.”

“Mhmm, yet here you are, at family Christmas.”

“Okay, grandmother,” you cut in, “he’s family, and you know family doesn’t have to be by blood or marriage. It can be friendship.”

“You love her?” your grandmother ignored you to ask.

JJ reached over and took your hand, meeting your grandmother’s eyes, “Of course.”

She nodded and backed off, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Turning back to your sister, she added, “I expect a boy to be at Christmas with you soon, young lady.”

“What if it’s a girl?” your sister asked, clearly trying to egg her on.

“I’ll take either at this point.”

Clapping your hand over your mouth, you held in a loud laugh at your sister’s indignant face, and your dad didn’t even try. JJ squeezed your hand and you looked over to see his eyes squinted, biting his lip, to hold in his laughs. 

“Just wait until I never get married,” your sister crossed her arms with a huff.

-

“I’m going to murder you,” your uncle glared at you, “you better stop looking at my sheet.”

You scoffed, “Don’t put it in my eyesight then. Hold it up.”

“Just don’t cheat!” he exclaimed.

“Not cheating, just using my resources.”

And when he didn’t respond, you started crossing out the weapons on the sheet your uncle had just accidentally let you see. Your sister cleared her throat, “Well since he threatened her, Colonel Mustard is the killer and I’d like to make an accusation.”

“We started five minutes ago,” your cousin told her, “hush.”

She lunged forward and almost elbowed JJ’s empty gumbo bowl off the table. 

“Hey,” your dad yelled, “relax.”

“No. I simply will not relax until you let me accuse.”

“Dude, you haven’t even had a turn yet,” you rolled your eyes

“I’ve been looking at mom’s card,” she admitted.

Your mom gasped, scooting away from her, “Cheater!”

“How’s it feel to raise two cheaters,” your uncle taunted your mom.

“Only at board games,” you added, looking over at JJ.

He smiled at you, clearly amused at everything unfolding. The game went on for 30 minutes before JJ eventually won it. Your sister glared at him, “Should’ve left you at Grandma’s.”

Reaching over to ruffle her hair, he teased, “Sore loser.”

“I’m keeping your gift.”

“You won’t.”

“I will. Better show some respect.”

“Respect is earned.”

Her jaw dropped and your mom snorted, “Give up now.”

Your sister, always needing the last word, “Watch out, new kid, you’re the replaceable one here.”

JJ leaned forward, elbows on the table to look into her narrowed eyes, “Until I propose.”

Cheeks heating, you stared at him in shock, and he moved back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Damn,” your dad coughed, “got her again.”

“Okay, any present marked JJ comes to me now,” she announced, “now that we’re family.”

Before anyone else could answer, one of the kids walked in holding a box, and your cousin stood, “Time for presents.”

JJ had a few, one from your parents, two from your grandmother, and a couple your cousins chipped in on. His eyes widened when he actually had a small pile, mostly gift cards, but he was still excited.

And at the end of the night, the five of you walked out to the car to drive back to your grandma’s house. Your dad looked at JJ over his shoulder, “You made it through. How’re you doing?”

“Pretty good.”

“Well, you got yourself a standing invitation.”

JJ’s smile was small but pleased as he stared at the window. You reached down to grab his hand and he squeezed in response. Right as you got to your grandma’s house, it hit midnight, and you leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

~

day 10 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: visiting relatives

[laynemorgan]

I'm sure you've already provided it, but I'd be curious to hear your road to becoming a staffed writer. What first got you interested in it? Does it go back to school days?

Man it goes back far. I mean, I guess in some ways it doesn't. Since you asked more about what got me interested in where it goes back to, I'll give you the lest technical and more biographicl explanatin. My first goal was just to become a writer. I've been writing since I was a really little kid. I actually recently found journals from like the elementary and middle school days just filled with them. And it was never small scale, I'd always be planning out the whole fucking setting, how all the characters were connected, full universes. I made a fake fantasy. land in my backyard because my parents live on a lot of land. I called it Teleterania. I remember very little about it besides that that was the name hahah but I did do it!!! Everything I read only made me want to write. Everything I watched made me want to write.

Sometime around late middle school and early high school, I started watching more TV. I found soap operas and was OBSESSSED with their flare for drama. I found BTVS, Charmed, Smallville, Veronica Mars, OTH, etc. And all of those shows really got me actually looking at TV in a way I had never before. I got obsessed with their worlds and into their fandoms. I became the liek TV guy in my high school. There was even a group of girls I never got to really hang out with that would always call me over to their table to ask about what I knew about OTH stuff hahaha and 17 year old me thought that was awesome. Before my sister passed away, she and I took a road trip down to North Carolina to tour the One Tree Hill set. OTH was like the one thing that she and I agreed on. And it was so awesome. For me it was a first look at what the industry actually looked like, to see the sets and what went into it and all of that.

But I don't think my eyes really opened to actually WORKING in tv until college. I went to school for English Lit and Creative Writing in New Hampshire. My school had a great writing program and I was right at home there. i still credit my first writing professor who was only a grad student for really teaching me what I know about writing and editing and reading my own work for error and she passed me on to her favorite professor which was a hugely flattering moment for me. AND THEN -- I fell in love with PLL. And for me, that was really where shit started. I didn't realize it at the time and it wasn't even the show that did it it was what the show showed me. Through my tumblr at the time which had very little to do with fandom, I actually wound up running into Patrick Adams and Troian Bellisario. We all were always sharing each other's posts and at the time I was working for a journalist covering random TV out of a shitty free magazine in Boston doing work for peanuts. But I was going out to LA to meet up with a friend and we all decided to meet for lunch and they let me interview them for my magazine and stayed really rad people. They also helped boost my PLL photo recaps which I was doing at the time and those got the attention of the Director, Normal Buckley who asked me out to coffee and talked to me about my goals and what I was doing. He was the person who first really helped me understand that there's an approachability to the TV world that to me had always been this like magical hollywood bubble I didn't understand.

I went home THRILLED about LA, dropped out of college and set out to go to film school. From there, I hated film school because it was too technical adjacent, dropped out again, spent all the money I had on that move twice, and went home to boston broke and lost. I spent two years after that maybe more saving money, working in fandom, and waitressing while I went back to college online. That era wasn't super writing focused but it's where I found myself. I realized I was queer, I came out, I got into tumblr rpg, I met my fandom friends, I found tumblr fandom in a way I hadn't before. And then a couple years later I found tl100.

From there, the rest is kind of wonky. I had a big fan blog for the show and talked a lot about it on my twitter which lead me to many interactions with the writers who then invited me to dinner at comic con one year. I had a long talk with Shumway abut my goals and what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be in TV somehow. I knew I wanted to be in writing somehow but I couldn't figure out how those two things aligned. I was doing a lot of journalism and critic stuff because that felt like the clsoest way to be both a fan and workin in the world I loved but it was really Kim and Shawna that opened my eyes to the ability to just .... be a TV writer. Film school had made me terrified of the wrtiing side but I think it was because film school was so much more about writing for film which I learned isn't my thing. But TV is a writers' medium, unlike film which is more fo a directors medium and suddenly I was like -- MIND BLOWN. It was everything I wanted in a career and married all of the things I loved. It was something that had previously felt like unattainable but they made it seem human and approachable.

They helped me get my first WPA job, I saved up 3 grand working and with the help of some friends and moved to LA to start that. And suddenly I was in a whirlwind of catching up on everything I felt like I had missed. I was reading scripts, learning what the process looked like, doing everything I coudl to figure out what being a TV writer looked like. After that job, I got another WPA job at Millar Gough on Into the Badlands and later Shannara.

THEN I got hired on Daybreak which I can fully credit with being a huge stepping stone for me and changing my life in a lot of ways. Aron was the best showrunner. He was educational and he taught us shit, he let us in the room, he let us write stuff, he let us pitch and try and fall on our faces and never judged us for it. My second season there he moved me up to writers assitant and patiently walked me through all the stuff I didn't know yet because he had faith in me and my voice and my ideas. He let me writ e afreelance episode that year and pitch it in the room and do all the things that real w riters get to do.

So after Daybreak season 2 got cancelled I was pretty ready to spend my next year or two just writing, finding an agent and moving forawrd. And then I got an email to go and work for Moira Walley Beckett. She was looking for an assistant with serious room experience to help develop something in a small room and stay on with her later. I took the job becuase she's MOIRA and I was stoked to learn from her and work for a woman for once. I ernded up very fortunate becuase a month later we were all surprised by the covid mess and I was fully employed that whole year while many people weren't which was a huge help. Moira was a STELLAR boss. I had thought I was ready and what she taught me was that ther's always so much more to learn. She walked me through the process of applying notes and taking notes and changing draft after draft of your story. SHe walked me through breaking a whole season of television. We had a great partnership for the year and I'm so grateful. And then that project didn't end up seeing hte light of day and we our separate ways as well.

Cut to a few months ago, I was still at home in Boston, post-covid, having been sick for most of january. My friend Rachel dared me to write a spec in a weekend for the Warner Bros fellowship deadline. So I did. It was a Legacies Spec. Given that we didn't have access to the WGA library because of the pandemic, Legacies was an easy and obvious choice. I had already seen it inside and out and didn't need as much access to learning a show from scratch. So I wrote what I loved, wrote a season 2 legacies spec that embraced my favorite things about legacies: the high school soap of one tree hill, Lizzie doing wild dialogue, buffy-esque monsters, and themes of grief and humanity.

AND THE REST you know.

Here we are. I'm still lost as fuck. I'm still running full speed through a world I don't always feel like I"m ready for. I'm still a perfectionist and an obsessive overworker. I still take notes I don't need to take and do work at 10pm and come in early and stare at the story boards. There's a whole journey in all of this about representation and coming to find myself and queer media and wanting to make more of it but that's one I don't feel like I can fully get into until I'm decades out of it and the world is truly made better. But I'm here. And it feels like the end of a journey and liek I'm standing at the edge of a brand new clif because I've only just started.

[ptersparkers]

meeting the mother

summary: john b. meets your mom for the first time as your boyfriend and he’s starting to have his doubts.

warnings: mentions of death (it’s not that serious tho) and typos, probably.

notes: yall im sorry i didn’t proofread this. also this was a request, so anon, i hope you like it! 

add yourself to my taglist!

(gif is mine, please credit if using) 

“It’ll be fine, John B,” you coaxed, reaching out for his hand. He demeanor had changed when you brought up the subject of meeting your mother for the first time as boyfriend and girlfriend, and while he knew this day would come, that didn’t make him any less nervous. 

“I want to talk her, I really do,” he said. “I’m just nervous.” You kissed the back of his hand and met his gaze. The both of you were laying in the hammock sitting outside of the Chateau, listening to the natural sounds of the night. The sun had just set and you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your free time. Your head was perched on John B’s chest and he wasn’t shy about stealing kisses from you. 

“You have every right to be,” you reassured. “But my mom’s been asking about you and, I don’t know, I thought now would be a good time since everything’s calmed down.” 

John B. stayed silent for a moment. As the summer was coming to an end, he thought about the adventures his friends embarked on and the most important one: asking you to be his girlfriend. He had spent a year pining after you and ignoring JJ’s pleas to ask “ask you out already,” but with his help, he was able to overcome the fear of rejection. He was just glad that you liked him too. 

“Baby?” you asked, bringing him out of his daydream. John B. looked down at you and tiredly, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Okay,” he agreed. You smiled wordlessly and tucked yourself deeper into his side, letting your eyes fall heavier by the second. 

The next morning, you had let your mom know that John B. was going to be coming around for dinner. Despite being a full bred and born Kook, your mother was never one to take after her peers and had never adopted the classist views of her neighbors. Your father, who had passed away when you were in your childhood, grew up as a Pogue before leaving the Outer Banks for the mainland, where he met your mother. In the end, they decided to raise you in the place they knew the best. 

And if there was anything you were thankful for, it was the fact that your mother never judged you for hanging with the Pogues.

You met JJ first, befriending him in middle school and eventually worked your way into the hearts of the gang. You and Kiara had gotten along the best, since you grew up a few doors down from her family, and your mother was ecstatic to know you had found a group of friends who cared about you and vice versa. If you were being honest, you were sure your neighbors would’ve forced your family off of the island if it weren’t for the fact that your mother ran the most important shipping company in North Carolina. It was your father’s legacy, one that your mother carried on. 

So when you told her John B. had asked you to be his girlfriend, all she did was let out a heart laugh and winked. About time. 

You weren’t naive, however. You knew his disdain towards Kooks and his fear about being rejected by your mother, despite having known her for a while. He had never bothered to come to your side of the island and had only talked to your mom the few time she came to The Cut to pick you up. But meeting her for the first time as your boyfriend was a different playing field. This time, your mother would truly be protective. 

You arrived at the Chateau an hour before you were supposed to arrive at your house to find John B. in his room, staring a little too hard at his closet. He was shirtless, standing in nothing but dress socks and boxers. His eyebrows were creased and you swore you could see the frustration steaming from his head.

“You don’t have to overthink it,” you said, walking towards him. You stood behind him and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder and felt him relax underneath your touch. 

“I don’t want your mom to think I’m some Pogue,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I want to impress her.” 

“John B., you’ve met her before.”

“Yeah, twice!” You laughed and stood in front of him, your hands roaming his chest before you tapped the upper portion with your index finger. 

“She doesn’t care that you’re a Pogue, baby. So don’t overthink it. Don’t dress how you think she wants you to dress.” 

You turned around and sifted through his shirts before settling on a clean button down with subtle vertical stripes. You were grateful he had finished laundry a few days prior and picked out a pair of clean jeans and a pair of sneakers before turning around and putting it on his bed. 

“There,” you said. “Go put it on.” 

When John B. emerged from the bathroom, you bit your lip and couldn’t help but feel proud at how willing your boyfriend was to meet your mother. That, and you were aware of how incredibly good looking he was. 

“By how you’re looking at me, I think this is a success.” You snapped out of your daze and smiled at him, unbuttoning a few buttons of the shirt and whacked his chest. 

“You don’t have to be uptight, JB,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve told my mom about you and she just wants to get the know the John B. that’s my boyfriend.” 

“Is it bad to say my heart’s racing?” 

“Not at all,” you said, interlocking your hand with his. “I’m honored that you’re doing this for me.” 

***

You had to admit, John B. hadn’t loosened up by the time that you two arrived at your house. He was standing up a little too straight, kept one hand either in yours or on the small of your back, and it looked like he had painted a smile on his face. But by the looks of it, your mom didn’t seem to notice. Or she did, but welcomed it regardless. 

He started to relax when your mother brought out the mandatory baby photos and awed at the sight of your childhood, cracking jokes with your mother about funny hairstyles and your questionable fashion choices. You excused yourself to use the restroom and left the two in the living room. It wasn’t until he reached a photo of you sitting on your father’s shoulders that he sat in silence for a moment. 

“Are you okay?” your mother asked when John B. had lingered on this photo for a while. He touched the photo through the photo album.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “I, um, I know how much Y/N’s dad means to her.” John B. didn’t dare look up. He missed the look of adoration in your mother’s eyes. “My dad disappeared almost a year ago and we really bonded for the first time when he didn’t come home. I think that’s the first time I realized I liked her more than a friend.” You watched from the hallway as your boyfriend relaxed. Truly, that was all you wanted. 

By the end of the night, you were sure John B. had become your mother’s best friend. It was around eleven in the evening when John B. had said goodbye to your mom and you walked him out to the front to drive him home. 

His hand was wrapped in yours. You kept one hand on the wheel as John B. fussed with your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it every few minutes. When you reached the his space, you parked in front and turned towards him. 

“That meant a lot to me and my mom,” you said. “Thanks for tonight.”

“I think your mom’s replacing you as my best friend.” You laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. “I don’t know what I was so worried about.” You reached forward and ran your hand through his hair before letting your hands rest on his jaw, feeling a slight stubble grow. 

“I love you, John B.” 

***

taglist: 

@princessdolan​ @ashyramblings-ficrecs​ @fanficscuziranout​ @caswinchester2000​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @karleeluv​ @briannarto @pogue-h​ @hyluas @angelic-ashleyaileen @mfmaddyperez @sspidermanss​ @outerbankslove​. 

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the slumber party

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 3/?

masterlist

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cursing (but when isn’t there any)

read it on wattpad

playlist

-

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one in three chance of survival."

Rosie watched from her spot on the wooden railing of the deck of the under-construction house as John B waved his foot off the edge of the roof.

John B hummed in contemplation, "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, you should jump," Pope held up a drill as if it were a gun, "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You're gonna shoot me?" John B held up his hands to form the shape of a gun.

"Yeah"

Rosie laughed at her friends' banter and took a sip from her half-empty can of beer. Before John B could do anything stupid, Kie sauntered out onto the deck.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," she cried with a look of disgust.

"Of course they would, why wouldn't they?" JJ piped up from his spot on an elevated board. Kie continued ranting about turtle habitats, but was drowned out by JJ, "I can't have cold towels!"

Kie paused and gave John B, who was still teetering on the edge of the roof, a judging stare, "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"No no, let him. I believe in you, JB! Spread your wings and fly!" Rosie giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. John B shot her a devious grin.

"Don't spill that beer," JJ eyed his friend on the roof, "I'm not giving you another one."

As if on cue, John B nearly lost his balance and dropped the can of beer onto the deck below. The dark liquid spilled across the deck with a loud clatter, "Oh, shit."

"Of course you did."

"Smooth"

"Might as well jump now!"

"Dumbass"

John B groaned in distress as his friends laughed at him. He was saved from their torment by the screech of wheels against concrete.

"Hey!"

Rosie's eyes shot towards the driveway and widened upon spotting a familiar, plump security guard. She hopped off the railing just as Pope called out to the others, "Hey, uh, guys? Security's here!"

Pope, Rosie, Kie, and JJ all moved to clear out while John B lingered for a moment longer.

"Humpty Dumpy! Let's roll," JJ called out to grab his attention.

While the group of Pogues climbed down from their spots around the deck, JJ continuously taunted the security guard, Gary, drawing even more unnecessary attention.

"JJ, shut up," Rosie lightly shoved the blond to get him moving. "Let's go!"

The teenagers wove their way through the poles and wooden planks littered around the house, cheering the whole way. Rosie laughed as Pope nearly tripped over a pole. This time JJ shoved her to keep her moving.

The next 20 seconds were a shit show, to say the least. Sprinting full speed towards one exit, only to turn abruptly go to the next. Running into multiple security guards and escaping their clammy grip. Trying not to get caught, but also having fun doing so. The more the old men shouted after them, the more the teenagers laughed. They jumped one by one over a newly-constructed wooden fence. Rosie hauled up Pope, who fell face-first onto the grass.

John B's van pulled out into the street with perfect timing. JJ, Rosie, and Pope hopped into the large car one by one. They all cheered in victory once John B zoomed off, leaving the guards in the dust. But the moving van didn't discourage Gary the security guard, who continued to chase after them on foot.

"Check out Gary gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughed.

JJ stuck his head out of the door with a grin, "Come on Gary!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack," Kie warned him, but couldn't contain her laughter.

JJ turned back to John B driving the car, "Hey slow down." The van slowed, allowing the old man to catch up, but not enough. "You're so close, you can do it!" JJ taunted him, and tossed him his empty beer can, "there you go!"

"Stop, JJ, Stop."

Kie yanked the blond boy back inside the van as she began to feel bad for the security guard.

"He's gonna go into cardiac arrest if you keep it up," Rosie added, sliding the side door of the van shut.

"Oh come on, that sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ protested but let her close the door regardless.

Adrenaline still pumped through Rosie's veins. She subconsciously bounced in her seat in excitement. The teenagers fell into scattered conversation as John B drove through the Figure Eight. Rosie stared out the windows at the pristine white houses and matching boats. She often forgot that she had once lived the Kook life when her father was still around. It was so long ago now—nine years—that she tended to forget that part of her life ever existed. Slowly the white mansions morphed into wooden shacks and unmowed lawns.

The Cut. Her home.

"Where we goin'?" John B called out to his friends.

"The Wreck for me and Rosie," Kie replied.

Rosie sent her a soft smile. She was lucky to be working alongside one of her best friends, but Rosie knew that she'd have to start working full-time soon. The money she'd saved for the past few years was good for now, but certainly wouldn't last forever.

"Got it. Pope, JJ, how does touron-hunting sound?" John B glanced back at his guy friends with a devious grin.

"Perfect. They're just in season, too," JJ smirked, earning a slap in the gut from both Kie and Rosie.

"I mean, I don't have a choice, do I?" Pope laughed.

"Nope," JJ and John B spoke in unison just as the van pulled into Kie's dad's restaurant.

"And this is where we part ways," Kie slid the van door open and jumped out, quickly followed by Rosie.

"Don't do anything too stupid," Rosie added. She gave a pointed look to JJ, who raised his arms in surrender.

"Can't promise anything," JJ taunted before closing the car door again, effectively cutting them off. The beat-up van pulled out of the parking lot and drove off down the road—most likely towards the beach full of clueless tourists.

"Boys," Kie shook her head and laughed. The two girls entered the restaurant for their night shift.

The rather large restaurant was nearly empty apart from an old couple sitting in the far corner. But the peace and quiet didn't fool the two girls. 4:30 PM was the prime time to get ready for the dinner rush.

"You're late," Kie's dad peeked his head out from the kitchen with a glare. The teenagers made their way to the back of the shop and into the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mike, we completely lost track of time," Rosie put on her infamous puppy dog eyes. She grabbed her apron from the wall rack. "It won't happen again!"

Kie's dad scoffed, "Yeah. That's likely," he shook his head at the two. "Just finish up meal prep, and I might forget you were late."

As he walked to the table with the older couple, Kie turned to face her friend, "You are such a suck-up, Rosie. I don't understand how you do it."

"Years of practice with these babies," Rosie fluttered her eyes before widening them again to resemble those of a kicked puppy.

Kiara rolled hers, "Yeah, yeah. Might've worked this time, but they won't save us from my dad again if we don't start chopping tomatoes."

Rosie nodded in agreement and the teenagers set to work, chatting the entire time.

Dinner service went off without a hitch. Before anyone knew it, the last customers had exited the restaurant leaving the Carrera's and Rosie. As they got ready to close up, the previously boring news report on the TV suddenly became interesting.

"Hurricane Agatha is moving closer to the coastal Carolina's as we speak. Citizens are advised to take shelter and brace themselves for the storm. We'll likely see the worst of it tomorrow evening," the voice of the reporter reverberated throughout the restaurant. Rosie frowned and looked out the window to see that it was, in fact, raining.

"Well shit," Kie mumbled.

"That doesn't look good," Rosie added.

Kiara's dad redirected the teenagers' attention from the TV screen, "We're good to lock up now. Don't bother coming in tomorrow," he nodded his head from Rosie to the news report. "Do you need a ride home?"

Rosie gratefully accepted his offer to avoid a miserable walk through the rain. The rest of the night went by in the blink of an eye and before she knew it, Rosie was passed out face-first, still fully clothed, on her bed.

-

Rosie spent almost the entirety of the next day prepping for the oncoming storm, napping and reading. It was by far her most boring day in the Cut since she'd returned a few days earlier. The wind and rain were picking up rapidly, causing anxiety to erupt in her stomach. Rosie wasn't afraid of storms, but she'd never had to wait one out alone. She reached for her phone to call John B and ask if she could spend the night at the Chateau, but there was no signal. The girl tried to calm herself by picking up another book, but the howling wind and pouring rain made it impossible.

Frustrated, she slammed the book down and grabbed her dad's old raincoat from the coatrack. Rosie went to pick up her car keys but decided against driving. Her car was parked in a safe place now, and she certainly couldn't afford a new one if it were to get destroyed.

With an exaggerated huff, Rosie zipped the massive coat up to her chin and threw the hood over her head. The layer of protection proved useless as soon as she opened her door. The piercing wind blew her hood back and rain pelted her face and hair.

"You've got to be kidding me," she grumbled to herself.

It was difficult to see more than 10 feet in front of her, but Rosie forced herself to continue onwards. The thought of the Chateau and a warm set of sweatpants from John B motivated her to break out into a run. The sooner she got there, the better.

In just ten minutes, Rosie had reached the old fisher shack. She sighed in relief. For a moment, she thought she'd get blown away by the wind and never be seen again. The teenager broke into a sprint and didn't stop until she was at the front door. She took off her coat and swung the unstable door open.

Sure enough, there sat John B on the striped couch with his partner in crime, JJ.

"You can walk, Rosie. It'll be fine, Rosie. Don't take your car, Rosie," the girl strode into the room, "God, I'm so fucking dumb!" she cried. She tried to wring out the water from her soaked hair but to no avail.

"Hey, we actually agree on something!" JJ shouted with a stupid grin. He held up his hand awaiting a high-five, only for Rosie to swiftly hit him upside his head.

John B tried not to laugh at her drowned-rat appearance, but his attempts were futile. She really did look horrendous. "Here," he tossed her a nearby towel.

Rosie took it graciously and began to dry off her hair. "At least one of you is helpful. Do you have any spare sweatpants and a shirt I can borrow?"

"You're staying?" John B asked, only to get a smack upside his head like JJ.

"What, you'd rather me go back out into that?" Rosie screeched.

"What? No, I meant—

"Yes."

"—shut up JJ—of course, you can spend the night. I'll go grab you some clothes," John B rushed off to his room and away from the fuming girl.

Rosie huffed and turned to face JJ, who was still wearing a smug grin.

"Of course, you're enjoying this," she glared at the unfazed blond.

Before he could retaliate, John B came rushing back into the room with a pair of grey sweatpants and a tie-dye shirt.

"Here," he handed them to the soaking girl.

She snatched them and rushed to the bathroom to get out of her soaking clothes. The oversized pants were instantly warming as she slid them up her shivering legs. Rosie pulled the large t-shirt over her head and attempted to detangle her hair with her fingers. 'Of course, John B wouldn't own a brush,' she thought to herself. Once she'd deemed her appearance half-acceptable, she folded her wet clothes into a neat pile and exited the bathroom.

Now warm and dry, Rosie fell back onto the comfy striped-couch next to John B with a sigh.

"Better?" he laughed.

"Much."

JJ and John B carried on with whatever conversation they were having. Rosie let her eyes flutter shut and her body sink into the couch. She was just on the verge of sleep when John B's voice pulled her back,

"Oh my God, our 7th-grade yearbook photos were legendary. Pope had that huge zit that looked like a third eye, my head was shaved, you had that massive black eye, and Rosie was missing one of her front teeth!" John B and JJ howled in laughter as they reminisced on their past.

"Yeah, thanks to Blondie, over here. Do you have any idea how much money it costs to replace a missing tooth?" Rosie grumbled with her eyes still closed.

"That was one of my finer moments. Golf ball to the face? Genius. And it wasn't even on purpose. I'm just naturally that good," JJ praised himself as if 'unintentionally' injuring her was an art.

"Yeah, 'cause your black eye was so much cuter," Rosie scoffed, now opening her eyes to look at JJ. "Soccer ball to the face is fucking classic."

John B laughed at his bickering best friends. Having met the boys in 4th grade, Rosie had so many priceless memories with them. Rosie transitioned from a Kook private school to the Pogue public one after the death of her dad, and they were the first (and only) friends she made. Rosie didn't mind the transition—she and her mother had always been Pogues at heart with a Kook father and husband. But switching schools is never easy. Truth be told, Rosie, JJ, John B, and Pope hadn't changed much since elementary school. In part because they grew up together, but also because they still had a similar childlike inkling for adventure.

"How did your feud even start?" John B asked with an amused grin.

"He broke my arm."

"She broke my nose."

"Well yeah, we all know about that. But it started before then," John B laughed. His two friends both stared at him like he was crazy. "Like, JJ. Obviously you pushed Rosie off her bike and broke her arm for a reason," he tried to explain further.

"I dunno, cooties?" JJ shrugged.

John B rolled his eyes but dismissed the subject regardless. Instead, the group continued reminiscing on their favorite stories growing up together. The more they talked, the louder the storm raged and the darker the sky grew. The lights flickered before going out completely, leaving the three teenagers in darkness.

"I think that's a sign," John B sighed. "It's getting late anyway."

JJ and Rosie both nodded in agreement. Rosie suddenly realized how tired she was.

"I got spare room," JJ announced, walking off towards the room in the back of the shack.

"I'll take the couch then," Rosie yawned, searching for a blanket.

"Rosie, you can't sleep in here," John B said.

She furrowed her brows, "What? Why not?"

He gave her an incredulous look, "Um, hello? Raging storm? Room surrounded by windows and an unstable door? No way," he pulled her off the couch.

"Well, where am I supposed to sleep then?" Rosie frowned. A smirk tugged at John B's lips and realization dawned upon her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, "No. Absolutely fucking not. I will not be sleeping with JJ," she cried. Rosie ignored the muffled laughter coming from the bedroom JJ was in.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's a big bed, and it's just one night. You'll be fine. And if one of you kills the other, I'll take full responsibility," John B called out while walking backwards towards his own bedroom.

"Why can't I just sleep in yours?" she whined.

"Because my bed's a twin. Suck it up, buttercup. Sweet dreams!" John B laughed and shut the door to his room, leaving Rosie alone in the hallway.

The girl groaned, but trudged towards the spare bedroom, nevertheless. JJ was already underneath the covers in the middle of the bed with a dumb grin.

"Slumber party!" he shrieked in a feminine voice.

"You make sleeping outside in a hurricane sound more appealing," Rosie grumbled. She attempted to shove his body over to one side of the bed, but he wouldn't budge.

"Move."

"No."

"Move!"

"Ask nicely. What's the magic word?"

"Please move, you brainless fool."

JJ scooted a few inches to the right giving Rosie about 1/3 of the bed. She readied herself to physically haul him over, but was far too tired. Instead, she made a show of getting under the covers, making sure he could sense her displeasure.

"Bastard," she mumbled.

Rosie turned so her back was facing the boy and closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible. They immediately shot back open as she felt an arm drape itself over her waist.

She violently slapped JJ away, "Absolutely not!"

"Aw, don't be a party pooper, Rosie. We're having a slumber party! You can't have a slumber party without cuddling," the blond laughed, tightening his grip around her.

"I don't cuddle with idiots," she hissed and attempted to push his arm away. He wouldn't budge, and she quickly grew tired of pushing. Rosie paused for a moment to recollect her strength, before trying to push JJ off again.

"Hmmph, someone needs to hit the gym," JJ mumbled into his pillow. Rosie sighed and gave up her struggle. She'd just wait for him to eventually move his arm instead.

But minutes passed, and JJ's arm remained around the girl's waist. JJ's heavy breathing soon turned into soft snores, and Rosie felt his grip begin to relax slightly. She decided to seize the opportunity and lifted his arm. Just as she began to move it away from her body, the boy shifted in his sleep. He subconsciously retightened his grip, this time pulling her even closer than before so that her back was against his chest as if she were a teddy bear.

Rosie stiffened, but the body heat radiating off of JJ and the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder were undeniably soothing. The tired girl gave in and relaxed in his grip. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she felt herself slipping from consciousness. In a matter of seconds, Rosie was lulled to sleep by the sweet sound of the raging storm outside and JJ's soft snores.

And what a good sleep it was.

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taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil​ @flick24​ @books-netflix-and-pizza​

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this chapter was mainly filler and def not my best work, but I tried to make it cute at the end :)