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#And for two schools are kept cold as fuck. Like I would be dyin if I were her
jackest-jack · 3 years
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Ahaha totally not redesignung sam manson no siree
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musicnoots · 5 years
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Stay
Bill Guarnere/Reader
Synopsis: Turns out you aren’t the only one having difficulty sleeping when Bill shows up with the same issue.
Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew
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You slept. Peacefully and soundly, a small snore escaping your slightly parted lips as you lay on your side. Small gusts of wind from the ajar window running between the blanket and your body making you pull the covers even closer.
You were asleep. That was until you suddenly woke up, heaving and sweating through the chilly night in Holland. You were a mess, tearing rolling down your face because you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Imagining how he died as you read that letter, realizing that he isn’t in this world anymore. Was he shot in the head? Grenade? Shrapnel? Machine-gunned? God, no. You hope it’s not that. You can’t take the imagine of him lying lifeless on some island, bullets riddling his body.
Small whimpers escape your lips when you let your imagination get the best of you, your heart wanting to get rid of all the blood and gore from your mind. You want to feel pure and clean as fresh linen sheets, but you’re stuck in this dirty world known as war and you can’t escape no matter how bad you want to. You knew what you were getting into. You want to think of the happy memories with him, your brother, but you can only think of the ways he could have died. The image of him lying lifeless on the ground, his last thoughts being that of—
“Y/N.”
You snap out of your trance and look over to the door, seeing none other than Bill Guarnere. Wild Bill. Your favorite boy from Philly.
He welcomes himself into your room, hair tousled and messy, and his eyes begging for sleep. “Can’t sleep either?”
You shake your head. “What time is it?”
“Two a.m. or somethin’ like that. You okay?” He notices your shiny cheeks from the dried tears, and you immediately touch them, realizing how much you actually cried.
“Yeah...yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Why can’t you sleep?”
“Can’t stop thinking about somethin’ I don’t wanna think about.” It’s his brother. He remembers when he found out—reading Johnny’s letter when he accidentally got it. The pang of shock of hurt running through his body was a familiar feeling tonight, he felt it the moment he woke up in cold sweat. He wanted to dream of nice women from Philly, not his dead brother.
Bill Guarnere is one of the most trustworthy men you’ve met in Easy. While his wild persona doesn’t radiate it, you’ve found comfort in him back in Toccoa. The first time was when you got a Dear John letter from your ex-boyfriend who left you for your neighbor. Bill saw you leave the mess hall in tears and ran over to tell you that your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve someone as pretty as you. The second time was in Aldbourne where Sobel told you that you were going to be the first person to die in the jump because you were a woman. Bill reassured you that you weren’t going to die at all because you were one of the strongest people he’s ever met. The third time was right before the jump when he learned that his brother had died in Italy. You were the only person he’s told.
“Is it your brother?” you ask quietly, almost a whisper, not wanting to invoke a reaction from mentioning his brother.
He nodded sadly. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to,” you say, your eyes looking at him in comfort. Bill was always a tough guy in front of the men, but you were the only person to know his softer side. You were never judgemental about it, just supportive and he was grateful to have that.
Bill walked closer to the side of the bed and looked back up at you. “Can I?”
“Yeah.” You scoot over and open the blankets to a spot next to you, and Bill freezes.
“Oh, I was thinkin’ about sitting on the edge of the—“
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t—“
He doesn’t wait for you to finish your answer because he takes the blanket from your failing arms and climbs in. His face is close to yours now, closer than he’s ever been to you physically. He is so close that you could just kiss him. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know it’s been a couple months now, and I should be over it, but I had a dream about him.”
“Was it good or bad?”
“I...I don’t know,” he sighs. “We were back in Philly, my brother and I. We were home. We were racin’ to the ice cream parlor down the street while my ma was yellin’ at us to slow down. It was hot, too. At some point, he tripped and fell, and when I went to help him up, all of a sudden I was seein’ him lying dead in Monte Cassino.” A pained took over his face, and he immediately hung his head low, not wanting you to see him so hurt. He was Bill Guarnere, he was supposed to be tough and stubborn to the core. “What ‘bout you? What’s on your mind?”
“My brother’s dead.”
Bill’s head shot up and he stared at you like you just announced you were pregnant. “Shit…”
You never talked a lot about your brother to the other guys. The most you’ve ever said was that he was a year older and that he’d enlisted a two days before you did. Bill knew the most about your brother, but he never pressed for more information. He understood your privacy and stood his ground. “I opened the letter from my mom last night. He died not too long ago.”
Silence filled the room once Bill processed the information that had been relayed right in front of him. It turns out that the reason why you and Bill couldn’t sleep weren’t so different. It was the grieving of your dead brothers. Bill’s pain was much more long term and persistent while yours just kicked in with a sharp knife to your chest. He thought no one in Easy would ever feel the pain of losing a sibling while serving, but he wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I never knew him, but I bet he was a really good person.”
“He was. I just feel bad for my mom because both her babies are—were serving in the war. Now, one of them’s dead and the other’s in Europe.”
“Your brother, was he...was he in the army like us?” he whispers, wondering if he died in Europe somewhere, possibly closer than he thought.
You shook your head. “No, he enlisted for the marines. He was sent to the Pacific.”
“Shit—sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“It’s okay, Bill.”
Bill didn’t have a lot to say, just like how you were when he told his brother was dead. He didn’t want to invoke an irrational reaction from mentioning your dead brother, but he also wanted to know. You were a phenomenal soldier and an exquisite person, he imagined your brother was the same. Whenever you talked about him to Bill, your eyes would light up and sparkle as if you were under the streetlights back home. Your lips would curl into a smile and Bill’s heart would melt from seeing you so happy.
He sighed, shifting to lay on his side, not knowing that you would be facing the same way. “Did you dream about him?”
“Yeah...I kept dreaming about how he died ‘cause I have no idea how he did. I keep seeing him lying dead on the ground of some island in the Pacific over and over again. Bullets all over the place and his body in a puddle of his blood.”
“Looks like we aren’t that different after all.”
“Seems so.”
An uncomfortable silence passes by, something you’re not used to with Bill. Usually, you two are talking for hours on end, yet, you both are silent. Bill clears his throat to speak, and you look up. “Hey, Y/N?”
“Mm?”
“Are you scared?”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Scared of what?”
“The war. Dying in the war,” he says. “‘Cause I am. I know it looks like I’m not scared of shit, but I’m scared of dyin’ and never seeing any of this ever again. Like, one day is going to be my last and I won’t know.”
“Yeah,” you say, finally overcoming the panic you woke up with minutes earlier, “I’m scared. After I read that letter, I always wonder if I’m next. Y’know, my brother’s dead, and I might be next for all I know. I won’t even get to go home and see my family again.”
“It’s scary. Scary shit. And I’m not even supposed to be scared of anythin’, but I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared, ever since I found out.” Bill doesn’t have a problem admitting that to you because he knows that you’re understanding. He has no idea how he came across such a great person, but there’s nothing he’d trade you for. He can be as real as he wants with you, and you’d still treat him the same as everyone else. “I ain’t scared of being shot at all, Krauts can shoot at me all they want, but I just don’t want to die. Y’know what I mean?”
“I do, Bill. I don’t want to die, either. I don’t think anybody does. I guess, after reading that letter, I’m more conscious of where I am now. I just want to come home after all of this is over. I don’t wanna be buried in a foreign country.”
“I wanna go home, too.”
“What do you think they’re doin’ back home?”
He shrugs. “Ma’s probably makin’ dinner while listening to one of my sisters talk about this guy she’s been seein’, and I don’t like him one bit. My brothers are probably yappin’ ‘bout the Phillies and shit and then my Ma would yell at them to shut up ‘cause she can’t hear my sister’s story.”
“I miss my mom.”
“Me too. Y’know she made me go back and finish high school?”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Even after I got a job makin’ railroad locomotives, she still made me go back and finish. Like, what was the point of that? I had six months! I know she wanted—“
“Okay, okay,” you laughed, “maybe we should go to sleep. It’s getting really late, and I’d hate to be dead tired tomorrow.”
“Okay, fine.” Bill was actually enjoying the small conversation you had going—it was much better than tossing and turning in his bed, waiting for slumber to take over his world. He was about to slip out of the covers and leave back to his own bed, but he stopped and paused for a brief moment. “Y/N, do you mind if I?”
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “If you what?”
“God damn, you’re really makin’ me say it—” he sighed, “do you mind if I stay here with you? Just for tonight, though. I just don’t feel like goin’ back and—”
“Yeah, ‘course you can.” You smiled and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, looking over at Bill who looked uncomfortable facing the ceiling. “Bill? Do you mind if I....if you could just...hold me?”
He looked at you as if you said the most complex word in the world, as if you said that you loved him, and as if you said that you were going home. Bill had nothing against you and holding you, but he’d never come across such a request from you.
“Yeah. Get ova’ here.”
You scooted forward and snuggled into Bill’s chest. Your head fits perfectly under his chin, his hands rests on the cup of your back, the other on your hip while your cheeks is smushed up against his chest. You can hear Bill’s heartbeat, something that didn’t seem intimate in the book that definitely felt like you were back in high school with your first ever crush. You never noticed the split second Bill’s body tensed up when you touched him, it felt like he scooped you up with no problem at all, and you wished for it to last forever.
Bill smiled above you. He knew that you didn’t know, that’s why he did it. He doesn’t know when to let you know. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Next week? Definitely not tonight.
Tonight was something he may never get to experience again.
“Y’know, you’re the kind of girl my ma wants me to bring home,” he said.
Your lips curl into a small smile. “Really?”
“Yeah, and you’re the kind of girl I want to bring home. Good night, Y/N.”
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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years
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Dance With Me
Prompt was: Dance on your grave
It’s early fall in Kepler, West Virginia. In the Monongahela National Forest, the green of summer is slipping away, replaced by luxuriant yellows, golds, and reds. 
Beneath this canopy of warm tones, Indrid Cold and Duck Newton walk side by side. There was a time when they would have walked hand in hand, the connection between them so new and fragile that they each feared breaking contact would cause the other person to disappear. 
Now there is no such fear; they’ve been beside one another for years, weathered a variety good days, bad days, and all the mundane that exists within that spectrum. 
They reach a particular grove, one they’ve passed countless times. 
“I ever tell you this was where I first fell in love with this place?” Duck gazes skyward.
“Not that I recall.” Indrid looks up as well, red glasses catching the rays of the setting sun.
“I’d come out here when I was cuttin school, liked how quiet it was, how there was no one around to hassle me about anythin. One day I was just sittin out here, in this grove, lookin around and seein how everythin fit together, how there are layers upon layers of life out here, and I kept thinkin about how those layers of life ripple out; trees make it so we can breathe, their roots keep hillsides from slidin away into town, rivers mean we ain’t all fightin mad max style for water. Don’t rightly know if it counts as a spiritual experience, but suddenly everythin made sense. I could care for this place, keep the trees from dyin or plant new ones, and that’d mean I was makin it so that my kids, and their kids, and on and on stood a snowballs chance in hell of havin a decent world to live in.”
“An awful lot of responsibility to put on ones’ shoulders.” Indrid muses.
“Made a hell of a lot more sense to me than what Minerva was goin on about at the time. Didn’t know what the fuck bein a chosen one might mean for me but this” he touches the trunk of one tree reverently “this was a responsibility I knew I could handle.”
Indrid rests his hand on the trunk next to Ducks own, although his eyes are on the ranger’s face, rather than staring up into the trees. 
“I wanna be buried here. Or scattered, dependin on what you do with my body.”
“Should I be concerned you’re bringing this up now?” Indrid asks wryly. 
“Nah, don’t plan on dyin anytime soon. But just, I dunno, guess I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you, my love.”
Duck takes his hand, turning them to face each other, “You need me to take you back to Sylvain when you die or do some special mothperson funeral or whatever, I’ll do it.”
Indrid draws him closer, “That won’t be necessary. Wherever you are laid to rest, I would like to be put as well.”
“Sap.” Duck wraps his other arm around his waist, feeling it’s strange bony angles even through the three layers his husband is wearing. 
“Me? Come now, of the two of us you are clearly the more sentimental.”
“How d’you figure?”
“I’m not the one who picked that ridiculously syrupy song for our first dance.”
“True. But I sure as hell weren’t the only one who liked it.” He sways back and forth absentmindedly, Indrid bringing his free hand to the shorter mans’ shoulder. 
“It has a rather pleasant melody.”
“Yeah?”
Duck hums the song, a bit off key, and sways Indrid in time to the notes. Indrid laughs brightly lifting his arm to spin Duck, the ranger returning to his embrace and twirling them in a slow dance across the dry leaves and soft earth. They move as one, hearts beating soft and steady, stealing kisses as they sway beneath the autumn sky.
----------------------------------------------
In Kepler, West Virginia, many years in the before, Duck shivers with a small “brrr.”
‘You okay there Duck?” Juno turns to look at him as they close up the station.
“Yeah, just one of those little chill things. Guess someone must’ve walked over my grave.”
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calpalirwin · 4 years
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You’ll Always Have Me
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Summary: Alyssa and Ashton have been best friends ever since Alyssa moved in across the street the summer before second grade. Together, they were tackling the stereotype that boys and girls can’t just be friends. That is, until they almost kissed right before their junior year of high school. Can their friendship survive the jealousy that stems from their newfound feelings? And what happens when they realize these “newfound feelings” really aren’t all that new?
And away, and away we go!
Chapter 6
~Alyssa~
I slammed the fridge shut a little harder than I meant to. “Jeez, you okay?” Sierra asked me, already halfway done with her water.
“I’m fine,” I smiled. In truth, I wasn’t. Why had he tried to kiss me? Why hadn’t I let him? Why did he have to get a girlfriend? Why did she have to come over? And why did I care so much?!
“Bull, you’re jealous as hell!”
“Yeah, no shit!” Sierra had been the first, and only, person I had told about my feelings for Ash and the kiss that didn’t happen, and I had sworn her to secrecy to never tell a soul. “What do I do?”
“Tell him the truth?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“So?”
“So, it’s weird! God, Si, do you know how many times I’ve seen him without a shirt on? It’ll ruin everything.”
“Suffer in silence for the rest of your life?” she suggested.
I nodded, “Much more plausible.”
“Yo.” Ash stuck his head through the door connecting the garage to the kitchen. “You two done hogging the water? Lu and I are dyin’ out here.”
“Quit bitchin’,” I said, tossing him two water bottles.
He caught them effortlessly and grinned, “I love it when you’re feisty.” He followed it up with a wink before disappearing back into the garage.
I slumped against the counter. “That,” I pointed towards the garage. “What was that?”
“The same shit he’s been saying to you for years. It’s just different now that you like him.”
I groaned. “This was so much easier when boys had cooties…” I pushed myself away from the counter and forced myself to relax, before I went back into the garage, Sierra on my heels.
Kayla had already arrived and was wrapped up in Ash, giggling. “Oh, hey, Aly!” she waved at me.
“It’s Alyssa,” I said through gritted teeth. Not even my own family called me “Aly”. Just Ash. Only Ash, and only because he had laughed with that 8 year old smile and his missing baby teeth. Fuck, I thought to myself as I allowed the memory to play in my head, had I always loved his dumb ass?
“C’mon, Lys,” Ash said with a hint of begging, causing me to cringe. Just like I hated when anyone else called me “Aly”, I absolutely hated when Ash called me by anything else.
“Whatever. You guys ready?” I asked, needing a distraction that only loud music could provide.
Luke and Sierra nodded, before picking up their guitars while I slid my guitar strap over my shoulder. “Ready, Ash?” I asked, looking over at him still tangled up in Kayla.
He pulled his lips away from Kayla’s and gave a twirl of his drumsticks with a practiced ease of having done so thousands of times before that I only now realized had always made my heart race. He took the lead in counting us in and we worked our way through our same set we had run through earlier, Kayla clapping and laughing the whole way through.
I wiped the sweat from my face and took a drink from my water bottle. “Call it or keep going?” I asked, breathing hard.
“Aw, is someone tired?” Ash teased, as he slicked back his hair.
“We all know you got plenty of arm strength, Ashy,” I shot back, getting him both with a joke at his expense and usage of the now-hated nickname.
“Whoa! One, too far with the “jacking off” joke. And two, ‘Ashy’? I thought we agreed that was off limits when we were eleven.”
“You started it,” I told him, sticking my tongue out at him, reverting to grade school tactics.
“And I’ll finish it,” he threatened, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle and coming towards me.
“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, if you get my guitar wet, I swear I will end you,” I warned, my voice a low growl. 
“Alyssa Renee Clifford,” Ash fired back with the full name in fake-shock, “I would never.” The fake shock in his voice faded as a devilish grin crossed his face, and he leaned closer to me, “You, on the other hand…”
I gasped as the still-cold water dripped onto my hat and down my face. He turned away from me, laughing. Recognizing my chance, I threw myself at him, tackling him to the ground. He started to turn so I would bear the weight of the fall, but at the last second turned back so I wouldn’t get a face full of concrete. Both of us safely on the ground, he grabbed both of my wrists and rolled, pinning me to the ground. “Truce?” he breathed- those once-crooked-but-now-perfectly-straight teeth smiling at me, his dimple a crater in his perfect cheeks, shocks of his curly sandy blond hair falling into his dancing eyes, and the scent of his cologne bleeding into my shirt- leaving me a breathless, heart-racing mess beneath him. 
“Truce,” I grunted, “Now, get off!”
He laughed again and pushed himself up before offering me his hand.
Kayla was eyeing us suspiciously, while Luke and Sierra, fully used to our antics ignored us. “Do you always fight like that?” she asked, chewing her lip.
“That wasn’t a fight, babe. That was just us messing around,” Ash reassured her, going to her and wrapping her in a hug.
“You’d know that if you ever took your lips off of his long enough,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” Ash asked, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Nothing. I was agreeing with you.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything back.
“Oh, fuck!” I said, smacking my forehead in a fake sudden realization. “I gotta finish that essay for English class.”
“I thought you...” Sierra started until I shot her a death glare. “Oh! Right, you said you still had to write it,” she lied with me.
“Yeah, I should probably head over to my dad’s,” Ash huffed. He loved both his parents, but he hated going to his dad’s on the other side of town.
“Oh, shit, it’s Mark’s week?” I asked, even though I knew fully well that it was. “Tell him I say hi, yeah?”
“Yeah, for sure. He keeps hounding me that I don’t invite you over. I keep telling him it’s nothing personal, just all our stuff is here,” he said, resting a foot against his drum kit which had remained in its same spot in my garage for the past 2 years.
“Yeah,” I laughed, trying to make him feel better. Ash’s room at his dad’s still felt foreign, even after six years. Plus, I missed being able to look over at his bedroom window and see him, although I would die before I ever admitted that to anyone, including Si. “But, I’ll be over Wednesday with my dad.” Every Wednesday Ash’s dad hosted a poker game for all his dad friends.
“Yeah, we can practice some of our acoustic stuff!” Ash agreed, perking up again.
“What about me?” Kayla pouted, no doubt feeling ignored.
“Babe, you can come over whenever. Just give me a heads up, so I can clean my room.”
“Give him at least 2 business days, Kayla!” I cackled, a real laugh this time. Ash’s room had always been a mess. His version of clean included crooked stacks of books, his clean clothes dumped on a chair, and his bed made haphazardly. His parents had long ago stopped threatening to ground him over it once they realized that 1.) that was clean by Ash’s standards and 2.) he was going to sneak over to my place anyway. It helped that he kept his grades up, which is what they really cared about.
“Fuck off,” Ash laughed, crossing the garage towards me. “I’ll see ya later, ok?”
“Yeah, man.” Then, we did our secret handshake, which wasn’t really a secret so much as second nature at this point.
“What the hell?” Kayla asked, snickering in her hand. “Ashton, you’re too much.”
Ash turned bright red and my heart sank a little for us both. He passed his hand through his hair, giving it that cool disheveled look. It was something he did when he was nervous or embarrassed, and as much as I liked how it made his hair look, I hated when he felt the need to do it. He used to do it a lot as a kid, but now that he was developing some confidence in himself- a product of not looking like a dweeb anymore- he didn’t do it as much. I both missed it and was glad it was a fading tick. “Right, well… yeah.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, my heart racing again.
He picked up his water bottle, taking a last drink before grabbing Kayla’s hand and dashing across the street to his mom’s. I watched as the door swung shut on him and Kayla. “Hey, Lys, we’re headed out,” Sierra said, pulling me back into reality.
“Oh, yeah, cool. See ya, guys.”
“You okay?” Luke asked. “You look a little sick.”
I shook my head, “I’m good, Lu. I’m just…”
“Jealous as hell?” Sierra suggested.
I shot her a look that both begged her not to say another word and threatened bodily harm if Luke got wise of my crush on Ash..
Luke chuckled. “You know Lys hates sharing Ash. She only got comfortable with you being around him because you’re more her friend than his. She only lets me around him because I was friends with him first.”
“Yeah, Si,” I agreed. “I just like having my friend.”
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