#best car rental California

[longroadstonowhere]

huh

renting a car for a week cost more than the cost of my round-trip flight

wild

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series. 

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host. 

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night. 

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

Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions. 

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it. 

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now. 

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job. 

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely. 

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks. 

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard. 

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley." 

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt. 

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

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

Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too. 

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction. 

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer. 

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink. 

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool. 

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip. 

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer. 

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested. 

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

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

Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again. 

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning." 

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time." 

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned. 

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer. 

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold. 

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it. 

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked. 

"Immediately," he promised. 

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will." 

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute. 

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article. 

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here." 

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him. 

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink." 

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead. 

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk. 

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed. 

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?" 

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

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

The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him. 

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him. 

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed. 

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too. 

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room. 

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches. 

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him. 

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them. 

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off. 

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time. 

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort. 

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight. 

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper. 

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off. 

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you. 

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders. 

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself. 

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more. 

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back. 

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic. 

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair. 

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good. 

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly. 

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly. 

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing." 

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered. 

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again. 

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you. 

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

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

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

[honeyedmiller]

When You Wish On a Shooting Star | Javier Peña

dedicated to my babes @party-hearses and @ilovepedro. thank you both for getting me super excited to write this and encouraging me, always. big smooches to you both.

pairing: husband!javier peña x f!wife!reader

disclaimer: this one shot has elements that are inspired by @inthe-dark-tonight's Whatever's on Tonight getaway trope, and @kiwisbell's Honey-Do married couple wanting to try for a baby trope.

warnings: light alcohol consumption, established relationship (marriage), talks of starting a family, reader is depicted as shorter than Javier, reader's described to have a big family, smut (unprotected piv, praise, breeding kink, fingering, f & m oral, face fucking, making out, pretty vanilla love making lol), no use of y/n, 18+. minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.3k

synopsis: you and javier celebrate your third wedding anniversary at a little getaway.

dividers by the lovely @saradika

“Almost there, hermosa.” Javi brushes his thumb onto your thigh, and you reach down to give his hand a squeeze. 

Your wedding ring glints in the California sun as you head up the mountain to your little getaway in Lake Arrowhead. You were visiting family down in California, deciding to extend your vacation for your three year wedding anniversary. 

Being married to Javi was a dream in itself. He was your best friend, the love of your life, your soulmate. You’d met him at a grocery store back in Laredo, where he happened to help you reach something at the very back of the top shelf. He asked you for your number and took you on a date later that same week, and you both never looked back. 

The scenic drive up to your cabin was none less than breathtaking. Greenery surrounded the hilly road you were driving on, and in the distance, the lake glistened brilliantly under the sun. 

Javi pulled up to the driveway of the cabin, putting the rental car in park. You unbuckle your seatbelt and smile at your husband as he opens the passenger door for you, offering you his hand. You take it and hop out of the car, stretching your stiff limbs that’ve been stagnant for two hours. 

“This place is beautiful.” You murmur, taking in the scenery around you. 

“Not as beautiful as you, cariño.” Javi smiles at you cheekily, pulling a sweet laugh from you. 

“Ever the sweet talker, Mr. Peña.”

“Only for you, Mrs. Peña.” He grins down at you as he rounds to the back of the car to take out your suitcases and the cooler full of food and drinks for the weekend. 

You both take your stuff into the massive cabin, in awe of the sight before you. The cozy living room was right in your line of view as you walked into the house, kitchen right behind it with the dining room table next to the back door that led out to the huge wooden patio. There were floor to ceiling windows in the kitchen, giving you a perfect view of the patio and the trees that surrounded the back of the cabin. The brown leather recliners and couch were strewn with hand-knitted blankets and a quilt with a black bear printed across the entirety of it. Across from the couches was a small fireplace with fresh wood ready to be burned, should it turn too cold. 

Off to the left down a small hallway were two separate bedrooms, a laundry room, and a bathroom. To the right, next to the kitchen and living room, was the master bedroom. You started to walk that way with your bags as Javi set the cooler down next to the kitchen island. 

A California king bed sat in the middle of the master bedroom with a wooden bedframe and headboard. Two nightstands adorned either side of the spacious bed, and right across from the bed was a TV. To the left of the bed was the bathroom that had a double vanity and a long, dark tiled shower. 

The place was more than cozy, perfect for the weekend. You set your bags on either respectable side of the bed, sighing in content. 

You heard the wooden floors softly creak behind you, causing you to turn around and look up at your husband. His thick, dark hair was slightly messy from him running his hands through it a few times, tan skin glowing, and his once sad, dark eyes now glistened with pure joy as he set his gaze on you. You couldn’t help the smile that adorned your lips as he neared you, pulling you flush against his body as large hands gripped your hips. 

He leaned down to softly peck the tip of your nose, your cheek, then your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, hands landing on his sturdy chest as they slid up to connect at the back of his neck. 

He pulled apart from you reluctantly, sighing as he rested his forehead against yours. He rubbed his nose softly against yours, hands moving down to your ass to give it a playful squeeze. You subtly jump in surprise, gasping at his touch. 

“We should start making dinner, mi amor. It’s nearly five.” You suggest, pulling back slightly as your gaze meets his once more. 

“Mm, you’re right, but kissing you sounds so much better right now.” 

You giggle at his advances as you move back slightly while he tries to plant another kiss on your lips. He pouts at you, giving your ass another squeeze. 

“Relájate, Romeo, we have plenty of time for that this weekend. Let your wife make you a good home cooked meal, hm?” You grin up at him, carding your fingers through the thick hairs at the base of his neck. 

“As long as I get to help.” He negotiates, and you nod. 

“Deal.”

-

You both settled on making steak fajitas with rice and pico de gallo. It was a favorite of yours before you ever met Javi, and when you made it for him for the first time four years ago, it easily became one of his favorite meals as well. Spanish music played over the small speaker you brought along, and you were subtly swaying your hips to the beat as you started to cook the steak. 

Javi was chopping the ingredients for the pico before he set the knife down, wiping his hands off on a dishrag on the counter before moving over to you, hands gently resting on your waist. You look up at him and smile, puckering your lips so he’d meet you halfway to kiss you. His lips landed gently on yours before his hands moved to the front of your body, idling on your stomach. His thumbs caressed you gently over the tanktop you were wearing. 

He hummed along to the song playing, bending down to bury his face into the crook of your neck. His hips swayed with yours, lips ghosting your pulse point with a kiss. It was intimate moments like this that still gave you rumbling butterflies in your tummy after all these years of knowing him and being married. Javier had always secretly been a romantic, but he didn’t really  show that vulnerable side of himself until he met you. 

“Mi amor,” Javi said softly, and you hummed in response. “What do you say we start trying for a baby?” His voice is gentle, almost cautionary. 

You halt your movements and look up at him, brows furrowed. “You mean it?” You ask, lips unintentionally forming into that cute pout that Javi loves so much. 

He nods, splaying one hand across your stomach while the other moves up to slot your chin between his index finger and thumb in the gentlest manner. 

“I mean it, corazón. I want to start a family with you. Criar a nuestros hijos en el rancho.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the pure excitement that coursed through you, the thought of having and raising children with Javi and creating your own little family is a dream come true. You grew up in a big family, so you were very clear with Javi before you two even got married that you wanted at least two to three kids. 

“Okay, Javi. Let’s start a family,” You smile as you kiss him twice. “But let’s eat dinner first.” You laugh, and he chuckles as he gives you one final kiss before moving back to the cutting board at the opposite counter from you, a smile on his lips that never faltered. 

You two enjoyed dinner in a comfortable silence, other than Javier praising your cooking skills. You sipped on a glass of wine with your dinner as you both watched the sun set through the tall glass windows, the kitchen and living room basking in hues of gold and orange. It was nightfall before you knew it, and Javier helped you clean up all of the dishes in the sink before you two stepped out onto the back patio. 

There was barely any light pollution, so the stars were crystal clear to the naked eye. You stared up at the sky in awe, gasping when you saw a shooting star graze across the black night sky. You closed your eyes and wished for what you wanted most at the moment: a family of your own with Javi. 

It may’ve been silly to others that you made a wish on a shooting star at your age, but you didn’t care. You’ve always found traditions like that to be special, and if it worked, all the better. 

Javier pulled you in tight to him, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed the crown of your head. You both stayed like that for what felt like hours, but you didn’t mind it one bit. Javi didn’t have to say much in order for you to know that he loved you with all his heart. He was an acts of service and touch kinda guy, so his hands were on you even in the subtlest of ways if he could help it, or he was doing small but kind gestures for you constantly. He rocked you back and forth slowly, indulging in the peace that surrounded you both out here. 

All that was heard was the song of crickets and the wind rustling the surrounding trees in the most miniscule way. 

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bubble of bliss you were enraptured in with your husband, pulling away from him as you rubbed his back. 

“Let's go take our showers and put on a movie, yeah?” You suggest, and he nods in agreement before kissing your forehead and leading you back inside. He made sure all the doors were locked up before finding you in the master bedroom, rummaging through your bag for your pajamas. While he was expecting you to pull out the oversized t-shirt of his you claimed you didn't steal back when you two first started dating years ago, he was surprised when you pulled out a satin pink nightgown that left very little to the imagination. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, nearly moaning at the sight as he pictured you in it. 

“Where’d you get this, querida?” He asks as he reaches out to thumb the material, dropping it back down after a couple of seconds. 

“Jessica and I went shopping a couple of weeks back. Told me to get something cute for our anniversary,” You laugh, recalling your cousin practically forcing you to buy the nightgown. “Why, you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows up and down, and Javi smirks down at you. 

“Mm, I love, bebita. Remind me to send Jessica a thank you text.” He chuckles, and you grin shyly as you tuck the material under your arm. 

“Vamos vaquero, let’s save water and shower together.” You nudge your head in the direction of the shower, and Javi tosses his infamous smirk your way. He gathers his things in his hands before setting them down on the sink counter, turning on the shower to a comfortable temperature for you both. You started to strip your clothes off your body, ready to wash the long day away and get into bed. Javier turned around to find you fully naked, and his eyes seemed to have turned darker in milliseconds. 

“Eres hermosa.” Javi murmured, stepping in front of you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“You think so?” You tease, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“I know so, baby. Even moreso when you’re carrying my children.” He presses a hand to your bare stomach, the coolness of his wedding band a stark contrast from the warmth of his body. 

“Guess we better start then, huh?” You tease, playing with the hem of his shirt before sliding it up his torso and over his head. You worked at his belt buckle, tongue darting between your lips to wet them as your concentration was zeroed in on getting the leather material off of your husband’s hips. You let the belt fall to the floor with a dull ‘clunk’, fingers moving deftly to get his jean button and zipper undone. He shucked his jeans off of himself along with his boxers and socks, now fully bare for you to admire. You placed both hands on his chest, lips colliding with his in such fervor. Your hands trail down his chest and torso, nails lightly scratching his tan skin. Your hands moved even further south, coming into contact with the coarse hair that sat right above his cock. 

Javier backed you into the shower, lips never leaving yours. The warm water cascaded down both of your bodies, relaxing your muscles instantaneously. One hand moved back up to Javier’s now-wet hair, while the other gently grasped his hardened length. You gave the silky flesh a few tugs before Javier groaned, separating your lips. 

“Bebita, fuck.” He gasped, jaw falling slack as he squeezed his eyes shut. You looked up at your husband in pure adoration, absolutely loving that you still had such an affect on him. Your touch sent Javier into a damn frenzy, whole body igniting from the inside out and succumbing to you. 

You started by leaving hot, wet kisses on his neck, trailing down to his chest where you gently nipped his skin and soothed the assault with your tongue. You moved down to his torso, kissing him everywhere he had scars from his crazy past chasing Escobar in Colombia. You eventually sank to your knees, still keeping a steady rhythm as you tugged his weeping cock in your hand. You placed soft kisses all around his thighs gently, tantalizingly, in an unbearably teasing manner. You looked up at Javi through your lashes, who was already breathing heavily as he watched you intently. 

A saccharine smile curled onto your lips before sticking your tongue out to lick the tip of his head, salty pre cum glazing it. You hum in delight, wrapping your lips around the tip fully before releasing him once more. You gave his cock a couple of more gentle tugs before licking the vein that ran underneath his thick length, causing him to twitch. You knew exactly what made him tick, how to please him instantly, and what would make him practically beg for mercy. He knew all of those things about you too, so it was a fair trade. You two have explored a lot throughout the years you’ve been together, so knowing what made each other come undone came naturally to the both of you at this point. 

You put him back into your mouth, this time moving all the way down until your nose met the curly, coarse hairs at the base of his heavy cock. You swallowed around his tip as it hit the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes as you tried your hardest not to gag. 

“Just like that baby. Feels so fucking good.” Javi praised, threading his fingers through your wet hair. You moved back up, hollowing your cheeks out as you did so. Javi was panting above you, looking down at you with a nearly animalistic stare. 

“Pretty fucking mouth wrapped around my cock. For my eyes only, baby, nobody else’s. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” His encouragement had you whining around him as you set a steady pace on him. You gripped the back of his thighs as he started to set his own pace, practically fucking himself into your mouth. 

You moaned around him as you rubbed your thighs together, clit practically pulsating with heavy desire and need. You were a patient woman, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on for. 

“Fuck, cariño, I’m gonna—fuck.” He hissed, and you tightly wrapped your lips around his tip as he came, swallowing everything he gave you. He gently pulled you up by your arms and pushed you against the cold tile of the shower wall, causing you to suck in a breath through your teeth. He smashed his lips to yours, kissing you with such a sense of urgency. He kissed you like he’d practically die if he didn’t have your lips on his. His tongue slipped into your mouth, hand moving up to softly cradle your face. 

Your lungs burned and begged for air, but you didn’t care. Kissing the love of your life so passionately was a hell of a way to go. 

“I love you, my sweet girl.” Javi said, panting against you. 

“I love you too, handsome.” 

“Yeah? How much?” He grinned against your lips as his hand slotted itself between your legs, wasting no time as he started to rub your clit gently. You groan at the sensation, hips grinding onto his hand. “Enough to let me put a baby in you? Hm?” 

You whine at his words, nodding feverishly. “Yes, Javi.” Your voice was coarse, breathing labored as his thick fingers kept toying with your heat. He slid his fingers through your folds, completely coating them with your slick before inserting his ring and middle finger into you. You cry out at the sensation, arching your back off of the wall and into him. He wraps his arm around you to hold you and keep you steady as he scissors his fingers in and out of you. 

“Javi.” You moan, nails clawing at his back. He groans your name and kisses your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin. 

He got down on his knees this time and attached his greedy mouth to your clit, licking and sucking the swollen bundle of nerves as he kept moving his fingers at a delicious pace. He moved his free hand up to cup your breasts one by one, toying with your sensitive peaks as you cried out his name. One of your hands gripped the back of his head, the other holding onto his shoulder as you steadied yourself. You felt your legs start to shake as your orgasm rapidly approached, a hot flame licking its way all through your body. You tossed your head back as you kept chanting Javi’s name like a prayer, moaning loudly as you easily tipped over the edge. Your orgasm came crashing down on you like waves to a shore, your whole body engulfed in the blissful feeling. Your knees buckled under you for a second, but Javi made sure to catch you. 

He was always there to catch you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as he removed his fingers from you, standing up to kiss you on the lips. Javier has been the only man who’s ever been able to make you orgasm every single time you both got intimate, and you joked to him on your wedding night after the reception that that was a reason why you married him. 

Javier took pride in making you feel good. He always wanted you to feel comfortable, and hell, even blissful, especially if he could help it. 

“How do you feel, cariño?” He asks, stroking your wet hair. 

“Amazing.” You breathed, grinning up at him. He kissed your lips and smiled down at you, and you both continued with the rest of your shower. He insisted that he washed your hair and body, you doing the same for him. 

Once you two were all cleaned off, Javier turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, and you, one around your hair and another around your body. 

Javier watched you lovingly as you applied your skincare generously, thinking to himself how lucky he was that you’re his wife. You both brushed your teeth and slipped on your respective pajamas, combing out your hair and climbing into bed. 

“What movie do you wanna watch?” He asks softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You rested your head on him, easily hearing the thrum of his strong, steady heartbeat. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” You said, tracing mindless patterns on his torso. 

He ended up settling with Dirty Dancing. 

About twenty minutes into the movie, his watch started to beep on his nightstand. He grabbed it and looked at the time, noticing it was 12:00 a.m.

“Feliz aniversario, amor de mi vida.” You look up at him with a smile, leaning up to capture his lips into yours. 

“Happy anniversary, Javi.” You rub your nose against his, maneuvering your body so you straddled him. He grabbed onto your hips, rubbing slow circles into your hip bones. You looked down at him with pure adoration, tracing his facial features and the shadows that were casted on his face from the light of the TV. 

“I love you,” You lean down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you,” You repeat, moving to kiss his dimple that you adore so much. “I love you,” Your voice is nothing but a whisper as you kiss his ear, nibbling softly on his earlobe. “I love you.” You kiss his neck tenderly, letting your lips linger there for a few seconds before moving your face in front of his to look at him once more. 

“You’re the light of life, baby. I wake up so grateful every day that you’re the one I get to come home to. You’re the one I get to spend the rest of my life with. You’re the one I get to have children with,” He trails off, easily flipping you over so your body is under his. He slots himself between your legs, grinding his crotch into yours. Your bare heat caught on the fabric of his boxers just right, eliciting a strangled moan from your throat. “I love you. Let me make you a mom, please.” He whispers, nosing along your jawline to press a kiss at the spot right beneath your ear. 

You nod frantically, and he easily discards his boxers so he’s left bare once more. He looks down at you, admiring your body adorned in the pink satin nightgown that was already ridden up past your hips, exposing your glistening pussy to him perfectly. 

“So perfect, baby,” He whispers, grabbing his cock as he lined his tip up with your entrance. “You ready?” He asks, though he already knows the answer. 

“Put a baby in me, Peña.” You tease, and he chuckles as he pushes into you. You gasp while he groans, Javier easily sliding to the hilt with how wet you were for him. 

“So fucking tight.” He grits, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds before opening them to look down at you. You smile softly up at him, lips parting as he starts to rock his hips. He’s gentle; a switch up from your normal pace with him. The thought of him making love to you on your anniversary just absolutely melted your heart, but you knew as soon as you got back from your plans in town later on in the day, he wasn’t going to go so easy on you. You liked when Javier was rough with you, but this was a nice change in pace while it was going to last. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the bottom of his back. “Feel so good, mi amor.” You breathe, focusing on every ridge and vein that was sliding in and out of you. 

“So do you, bebita. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re carrying my child.” He drops his head down, kissing you gently. You card your fingers through his damp hair, grinding your hips up into his. You moan into his mouth, cock stretching you so divinely. Even at this slower pace, it made you cry out for him, the push and pull of his cock so heavenly. 

He separated his lips from yours, trailing them down to your breasts. He swirled his hot tongue on one sensitive peak while he tugged at the other, licking and pulling in a synchronized pace with his thrusts. A whine was bubbling in your throat as you tugged on his hair, eliciting a groan from him. 

In that moment, all that surrounded you was your loving husband. The feeling of him on you, in you, the smell of his shampoo, the heat radiating from his body—all elements entirely engulfing you in the man that is Javier Peña. 

You couldn't imagine your life with anyone else. You didn’t want to imagine it. Javier was yours, the love of your life, and the father of your future children. 

Javier groaned your name as you clenched down on him, cunt fluttering as you felt the familiar heat lick inside of your core. 

“I love you, hermosa.” Javi whispered, moving a hand down to your clit to give you that little extra push you needed to come undone. 

“I love you too.” You threaded your fingers together behind the back of his neck, pulling him down once more to kiss him. He swallowed your wanton moans, hips bucking as his pace picked up and his fingers on your clit didn’t let up. 

“Javi, baby, I’m—” You cry, barely able to focus as your orgasm was so close. 

“I’ve got you, bebita, you can let go.” He softly encourages, albeit breathless. 

That white hot ball of fire engulfed your body as a whole, making you clench around Javi’s cock rhythmically. He groaned out your name before kissing you once again, eyes screwed shut as he came undone, his warmth spilling into you. 

He dropped his head to your shoulder as he rode out his orgasm, kissing your skin before moving his head back up to look down at you. 

“You’re so perfect, mi amor.” Javi praises as he slowly slides out of you, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest in one swift motion. You were still dazed from your orgasm, so you just kissed his chest and nuzzled into him, whispering how you loved him and ‘happy anniversary’. You were happy. Content. So enamored with your husband, and this new journey of trying for a baby was nothing short of exhilarating. 

You were just hoping that your wish upon that star would come true.  

tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ; @amanitacowboy ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @holesandlividity ; @pamasaur

[slexenskee]

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing. 

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots. 

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night. 

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel. 

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.” 

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time. 

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat. 

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!” 

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state! 

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time. 

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it. 

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together. 

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance. 

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that. 

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow. 

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?” 

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” 

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.” 

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?” 

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote. 

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.” 

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.” 

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner. 

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic. 

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?” 

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history. 

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours. 

//

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie. 

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly. 

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero. 

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk. 

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been  given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care. 

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has. 

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other. 

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.  

Actually, his childhood was awesome. 

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok. 

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that. 

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes. 

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.” 

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that? 

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best. 

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic. 

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more. 

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.” 

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him. 

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’. 

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly. 

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.” 

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly. 

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

--

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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[hardly-an-escape]

what's in a name? | Dream/Hob | 9300 words | rated E

this is my submission for @designtheendless's 3K commission giveaway: a Dreamling fic based on their fanart above!

tags: alternate universe - human, photographer Hob Gadling, artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, model Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, strangers to lovers, snowed in, only one bed, light dom/sub, oral sex, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, anonymous sex, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, and Hob is no less of a horny little weasel, brief Princess Bride references, alcohol consumption, impulsive decision making, callous disregard for the geography of northern California, they go from 0-60 because they’re both nuts, neither of them are in a great place but they do make each other better rather than worse

Hob is on an ill-fated road trip through California. He’s making his way slowly down the coast toward Los Angeles when, trapped by a snowstorm in a small town near Mount Shasta, he meets a mysterious stranger in a diner. They share a night of anonymous passion – but when the sun rises, Hob finds that he can’t just leave the stranger behind…

this story developed partially from Picture Perfect, one of my Fluffbruary 2024 fills. I also incorporated some of designtheendless's other suggested image prompts, so do make sure you check their original post! and thank you so much for extending the deadline, it meant I had time to get my CHBB fic submitted before pivoting to finish this... and even so I'm still barely getting it done in time just because of who I am as a person :D

Hob leans forward over the steering wheel, brows furrowed as he peers through the driving snow at the street ahead. The windshield wipers are going like mad; he’s seen a plow or two out, but they seem to barely be making a dent, so traffic has slowed to a crawl. Which is, frankly, for the best, since the weather is bad enough that only a true nutter would be out in it at all.

Well… nobody’s ever accused Hob of being sane.

His GPS instructs him to take the next right and informs him that his destination will then be on his right. He can just make out the neon sign through the thick flakes: Townhouse Motel. “Vacancy,” it says below the old-timey script, blinking on and off. In the distance, the sun is just beginning to settle behind some mountains that he’s sure would be beautiful if they weren’t hidden behind such inclement weather.

He pulls in the driveway. The lot is nearly empty, so he parks right next to the office door and jams his winter cap on his head before hurrying through the flurries.

The bored teenager behind the front desk barely looks up from the reality show playing on her tablet as she runs Hob’s credit card and gives him his door key – an actual, physical key. Room 1389. He decides it’s not worth it to ask why the room number has four digits when the motel has maybe a dozen rooms total.

He does ask if there’s somewhere nearby to get a bite to eat and a drink.

“There’s a diner across the street and down a block,” the teenager says, “but they don’t serve booze.” Then, finally looking up, perhaps seeing the bags under his eyes and his generally downtrodden demeanor, she relents. “There’s a liquor store about two blocks past that. You can bring stuff back to your room, I guess. It’s not like anybody is going to ask questions around here.”

That, Hob thinks as he heads back outside and moves his rental car a little closer to his door, is obvious. There’s a general air of neglect clinging to the motel, and indeed to the whole street, from what he can see: the buildings are a little more weatherbeaten than can be plausibly explained by a cute vintage aesthetic, and at least one storefront seems to be permanently boarded up. The recession has clearly hit Northern California just as hard as it has the rest of the United States.

What a time to be playing tourist. What a time to be – well, he won’t think about that right now.

His room is clean, at least. Someone, at some point in time, has made a half-hearted attempt to decorate it with a seaside theme. The bedlinens are various shades of blue, rather than your typical beigey-white. There’s an unfortunate painting of a mermaid hanging over the outdated television, and a slightly less unfortunate painting of a lighthouse above the bed. The bathroom wallpaper has little seashells on it.

Hob leaves his camera bag on the desk and his duffel on the end of the bed, grabs his wallet, turns his collar up against the cold, and heads back out into the snowy evening.

The diner is, as promised, only a short walk down the street, but Hob is shivering by the time he gets there. The wind cuts right through him – silly British man that he is, he thought California would be warm, even in winter. He hadn’t really reckoned with unpredictable mountain weather, or with the cold front that was chasing him down through the southern end of the Cascades. The weatherman on the radio had been calling it “freakish.”

A little bell tinkles merrily when he pushes open the door. A waitress calls out a greeting, tells him to sit wherever he likes and she’ll be right with him. There’s only one other person in the diner, a slender man dressed all in black who is hunched over a cup of coffee at the counter. He glances up and immediately back down as Hob stomps the snow off his boots and takes an empty booth far enough away from the front door that he won’t feel the rush of cold air if anyone else comes in.

The waitress bustles over, bringing him a cup of coffee without even asking. Hob wraps his fingers around it gratefully. He doesn’t normally drink coffee this late, but it’s been the kind of day that calls for it: so cold, so uncomfortable and distressing, that the sturdy ceramic mug is exactly what he wants. The bitter note of slightly burnt coffee is tempered by the cheap, artificially flavored vanilla creamer he only ever uses at this kind of greasy spoon diner. He breathes deep and feels something inside him start to thaw.

When the waitress comes back with a menu, he warms up even more. She is middle-aged and comfortable, nice and no-nonsense, the sort of person with an indeterminate American accent who could have come from anywhere: Illinois, or Florida, or five minutes down the road. She recommends the olive burger with fries, and a side of fried pickles, because they’re the best in the county, and then her excitement simply bubbles over.

“I’m just so darn tickled to have two Brits here in the same night!” she enthuses. “Oh gosh, is that okay? Can I call you Brits or is that rude?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Hob laughs. “Two of us, eh? That is a coincidence.”

“I know, right? Okay hon, lemme just get your order in and I’ll be back to warm up your coffee in a sec.”

She bustles away again, and Hob looks curiously at the man at the counter. He must have heard her comment, but he hasn’t turned around, or indeed acknowledged Hob in any way since he came in. He shrugs mentally and turns away to look out the window at the thickly swirling snow. It’s dark enough now that streetlights have come on, casting cones of light in which the flakes dance like a very slow sodium-tinted tornado.

He wishes he had a book. Or a crossword puzzle, or one of those packets of crayons they give to kids at restaurants. Something to keep his hands occupied and his mind off of everything that was threatening to consume it, off of the last few days, off of her –

Then the man from the counter slides into the booth across from him.

“Hello,” Hob says.

“Hello,” the stranger says. His voice is surprisingly deep and resonant, coming from his slim frame, and he looks to be in his late twenties, perhaps a few years younger than Hob. He is very pale. His dark hair is sticking up rather wildly and his eyes are a cold, clear blue that reminds Hob of the way the sky had looked this morning, before the clouds had descended.

“Who are you, then? Aside from a fellow Brit?” asks Hob.

“No one of consequence.” He’s lugging around a small backpack, which now rests on the bench beside him.

“I must know,” Hob says in a very bad Inigo Montoya accent.

“Get used to disappointment,” the stranger says with a smirk, and Hob laughs.

“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine,” he says, holding his hand out across the table. “My name’s Hob, yes that’s my real name, and yes, it is a long story.”

The stranger shakes his hand briefly. His palm is warm from cupping his coffee cup, but the tips of his fingers are cold. “Pleased to meet you, Hob.”

“And do you have a name, stranger?”

“I do. Several, in fact.”

“Any of them for public consumption?”

The stranger shrugs. “Will you forgive me if I maintain a certain level of mystery?”

Hob shrugs too. “That’s your lookout, mate. No skin off my nose.”

They chat. About the weather, and how odd it is, and how different to England. About books – the stranger appears to be a voracious reader, and Hob had loaded up an old iPod with audiobooks in preparation for a lot of driving, which sparks a lively debate on the merits of printed books vs reading aloud. In the midst of this, Hob’s food arrives, and he is derailed momentarily from the conversation by an overwhelming need to unhinge his jaw and stuff as many chips into his gob as humanly possible. The stranger watches in amusement.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Hob says, muffled by his burger. “Been driving pretty much all day and I didn’t really want to stop, so…”

He’s suddenly self-conscious, very aware that the man sitting across from him is slender and willowy and dressed all in black, and that he himself is very much… not that. Dressed for comfort and warmth in slightly baggy jeans and a flannel shirt and his puffy jacket balled up on the bench beside him. But the stranger seems unbothered, simply smiling slightly and snagging a fried pickle off the plate between them, which Hob had invited him to share moments after it had arrived.

They are good; crispy and salty and uniquely American. Hob is certainly prepared to believe they’re the best in the county.

“So are you staying here in town, or is that shrouded in mystery as well?” he asks, once he’s slowed down a bit.

“I’ve been staying in a cabin up the mountain, a little way out of town. With my family.” He said the word family as though it is faintly dirty. “One of my siblings thought it would be good for us to get away together. But I have found it… trying.”

“Up the mountain, eh? Are you going to be able to get back in this?”

Hob tips his head toward the window. It is very dark now, and the snow is falling more thickly and wildly than ever. A crease appears between the stranger’s eyebrows.

“To be honest, I had not thought that far ahead.”

“Do you have much experience driving in the snow?”

To Hob’s surprise, the stranger actually blushes, just a gentle stain of pink across his cheekbones. “I… walked.”

“You walked?”

The waitress, stopping by the table to warm up their coffees, echos Hob’s surprise.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “In this? How are you fixing to get home?”

“I was planning to walk back,” the stranger says with some asperity. “But I admit I was not anticipating this kind of weather.”

“Let me check on the roads for you,” the waitress says kindly. “Which cabin did you say you’re at? My brother-in-law lives up that way, I’ll give him a call. I’m sure we can find you a ride.”

She goes back behind the counter and picks up the phone.

“I’m happy to give you a ride,” Hob says quietly. “If she thinks it’s safe.”

“You do not have to do that.”

“‘S okay. I want to.”

“Bill? It’s Jan. I have a question for you,” says the waitress.

Hob realizes, suddenly and with some surprise, that it is quite true, that he is not just being polite: he does want to help this mysterious stranger, who talks like a 19th-century Byronic hero and dresses like a college goth. His stomach is doing the tiniest little swoop every time they make eye contact, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

The waitress calls over to him.

“You got four wheel drive, hon?”

Hob thinks about the little Honda Civic in the motel parking lot. Thinks about mountain roads and snow. Shakes his head no.

Scraps of the waitress’s conversation float across the diner and Hob takes another bite of his burger.

“– well they’re foreign, Bill, they don’t –”

He snickers just a little; can’t help himself, really, because the waitress is just so kind and helpful and also clearly more than a little bit befuddled by their presence in her diner. These two Brits, total strangers, so unalike one another – and yet here they are, sharing a booth and a plate of fried pickles, five thousand miles and change away from home. He exchanges a look of camaraderie with the stranger and eats some more chips. They’re good too.

“– and tomorrow? What’s the overnight –”

After another minute or two the waitress thanks her brother-in-law and hangs up the phone. Her face is serious when she comes back to their table.

“Well, boys,” she says, “I don’t think anyone is going anywhere tonight. Bill says it’s pretty bad up there, and only getting worse. The plows aren’t even going out yet on account of the snow’s still coming down so hard, it doesn’t make sense to try and clear anything. You going to be able to find a place to stay?” she asks the stranger.

He looks at Hob. “Did you mention a motel?”

“Yeah, the Townhouse?” Hob says, and the waitress nods along. “I don’t know for sure if there are rooms available, but it didn’t look like the parking was full.”

“Probably not, this time of year,” interjects the waitress. “It’s a fine place, and Paulie can certainly use the business. I’ll bring your checks by in a minute, guys.”

She leaves them again. Her sensible sneakers squeak against the floor tiles as she walks.

“Thank you again for your offer of a ride,” the stranger says quietly. “That was very kind of you.”

“Course. I’m just sorry you won’t be able to get home tonight,” Hob says.

“It is my own fault. I should not have behaved so impulsively. But my siblings…” The man frowns. “As I said, they can be difficult. I would have done something regrettable, had I remained in the house.”

Hob waves a hand. “Ah, it happens to the best of us. Especially around family. You should hear some of the fights I’ve had with my sister, we can scream the paint off the walls when we get going.”

“Indeed,” the man says darkly.

“I’m glad you did come to town, though. It’s been kind of nice,” Hob says tentatively. “Having someone to talk to tonight.”

“Indeed,” his stranger repeats. But this time one corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. “It seems to have worked out in my favor.”

Hob smiles back. “So, are you really not going to tell me your name?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun, eh?” Hob glances down at his own hands, folded on the table, back at the stranger. “Is that what this is?”

The stranger smirks. He leans forward and plucks another fried pickle from the plate. He opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue just a little bit farther than necessary to pop the slice into his mouth. He chews, and smirks some more, and gives Hob an unmistakable up-and-down appraising glance, and underneath the table he presses one ankle against Hob’s instep.

Oh. Hob feels a surprising but not unfamiliar spike of arousal in his gut. So that’s where this is heading – has been heading, since he pushed open the door and the stranger had glanced up at him. Had he blushed, when his eyes met Hob’s? Or is he applying more detail to that brief interaction after the fact, now that he thinks he knows what his stranger is thinking?

And when had the man become his stranger?

“I see,” he says, and presses back against the bony ankle under the table.

Ten minutes later, they’ve settled their bills – his stranger had apparently eaten a club sandwich before Hob had arrived, and he’s weirdly relieved that the man has consumed something more substantial than coffee this evening – and are gearing up to head back into the cold. Hob is zipping up his coat when he realizes the other man appears to have only a thick black hoodie and a knit beanie (also black, of course). He glances out the window, where it’s still snowing pretty hard, and raises an eyebrow.

“You going to be okay in just that?”

“You said it is only a couple of blocks? I will be fine. I tend not to feel the cold. And,” he adds defensively, “when I originally walked down the weather was not quite so… inclement.”

“If you say so,” Hob says as he opens the door. The waitress calls out a good night and he waves to her over his stranger’s shoulder. Wonders, just for a moment, what she thinks of the fact that they’re leaving together, or if she will ever think of them again at all. They step out into the snowy evening. “The girl at the motel said there’s a liquor store down the street. Mind detouring there? I was thinking of picking up some whiskey, or something. Something to keep a man warm.”

The man chuckles and they head down the street. It’s not until they’re away from the diner windows that he takes Hob by the elbow and gently draws him just outside the circle of a street lamp.

“Surely,” he says, voice low, stepping into Hob’s space, “there are many ways for a man to… keep warm.”

And he kisses him.

His lips are warm and dry, a little chapped. It’s a simple kiss, a chaste one, just their lips touching and the barest pressure of the stranger’s belly and chest pressed against Hob’s, swathed in layers of winter gear. It lasts for a heartbeat, two, and then the man steps back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Oh?” says Hob, giddily. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Obviously,” responds his stranger.

“Well, I don’t know, mate,” says Hob as they make their way down the street. He resists the urge to link their arms together. “Maybe you play footsie with every guy you meet in random diners in Northern California.”

“Perhaps.”

The liquor store is a brief respite from the wind and the snow. Hob selects a mid-range bottle of whiskey and they trudge back to his motel room. The snowflakes and the streetlights and the swirling wind make everything feel more than a little bit surreal, like something out of a dream or a fairy tale. The two of them could be adventurers, explorers, wading through an arctic wasteland in search of shelter. The mountain looms behind them, dark and mysterious, like a great castle or some monstrous beast.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” asks his stranger, kicking off his boots dropping his backpack by the desk. “I’m afraid I did get rather sweaty, hiking down earlier. I wouldn’t mind cleaning up.” His gaze, beneath his long eyelashes, feels heavy and significant.

“Go right ahead.” Hob gestures toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to nip down to the lobby and get a bit of ice.” He retrieves the ice bucket from the desk, brushing close to his stranger as he does. The brief contact jolts him back to the real world. They’re not in the arctic waste; this handsome, ethereal man is here, in his motel room. He is pulling off his somewhat sodden hoodie and draping it over the back of the chair, and sniffing dubiously at the sweater he wears underneath it. He is real.

Hob waits until he hears the shower turn on to slip out the door.

Although he has his moments of cluelessness, Hob is not a stupid man. He knows where this is going. He recognizes the signs, the coy little dance they’ve been doing around each other for the past two hours, and no, he’s not a stupid man, but if he were a better one he might be able to resist the temptation of falling into bed with a beautiful stranger who won’t even share his name.

But there’s something about this man. Hob wants him. Already can’t resist him. Wants to wrap him up and keep him warm and kiss his collarbones and, yes, wants to fuck him, wants to feel him shudder and moan and wants to watch his cheeks flush and his head fall back in ecstasy. He hasn’t felt like this for a long, long time, and now it’s come out of nowhere to slam into him and hook into his gut, this wanting.

He throws a few scoops of ice from the machine in the motel lobby into the bucket and goes back to the room.

He’s kicked off his boots, unwrapped one of the shitty plastic cups, and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey by the time he hears the shower shut off. There’s the usual shuffling noise of towels, a brief blast of the cheap hair dryer mounted to the wall. Then the door opens and the stranger emerges, and Hob is slammed from the real world right back into a surreal dream.

The man is even more beautiful without his clothes on: Hob would compare him to an elf or a fairy prince, but he’s too busy choking slightly on the spit that’s suddenly flooding his mouth at the sight of long, slim limbs, a narrow waist, and a temptingly well-defined Adonis belt that disappears under the cheap motel towel wound around his hips.

There’s a long moment of silent eye contact. Hob’s leaning up against the desk, cup cradled in one hand. His face heats as he watches his stranger’s eyes travel slowly down the length of his body and back up, pursing his lips slightly. His mouth is very pink, with the kind of full bottom lip that’s made for nibbling on, and the rest of his skin is as pale and smooth as… well, as snow, with just a touch of redness from the heat of the shower spreading across his chest.

Hob downs half of his whiskey without even thinking about it. He can’t look away. He can’t think, can’t even blink. He’s afraid that if he does, this vision will disappear and it’ll just be him, alone, a saddish man alone in a motel room with a bottle of booze and a bag of expensive camera equipment, and then who knows what will happen?

His stranger gives him one of those tiny half-smiles, suggestive, not quite a leer, and stalks across the room toward him.

He widens his legs and his stranger steps in to stand between his feet. He takes Hob’s drink out of his hand and tosses back the last swallow of whiskey before setting the plastic cup aside. Then he hooks one finger into the collar of Hob’s flannel shirt and pulls him into a kiss. His mouth is a study in contrasts: warm from the whiskey and cool from the ice, soft tongue and sharp teeth. They sink briefly, gently, into Hob’s bottom lip, and Hob pulls the man close against his chest and returns the favor.

The kiss is turning wet and messy when the man pulls back far enough to start fumbling with Hob’s shirt buttons. He’s pulled the tails of the shirt out of Hob’s jeans and has it about halfway unbuttoned when a phone starts ringing.

It’s not the room phone – it’s coming from a pocket of the man’s backpack.

“Ignore it,” he mumbles into Hob’s neck. “We are busy.”

The phone rings three times; four times. The stranger has finished with Hob’s shirt and is pulling the tee beneath it out of the waistband of his jeans by the time it finally stops.

His fingers are toying with Hob’s belt buckle and ghosting over the seam of his fly when it rings again.

The stranger groans audibly.

“Do you think,” Hob says with the carefully deliberate cadence of the very turned on, “that your family might be worried about you?”

“I do not care,” his stranger grumbles, and sinks gracefully to his knees.

Eventually the phone stops ringing again.

He’s worked Hob’s belt and fly open and is nuzzling into the opening of his jeans, nosing at the base of Hob’s cock through his underwear and Hob is panting, his stranger’s hot breath so close to where Hob wants him most – when the phone rings a third time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” snarls the stranger, and stands.

He fishes a slightly battered-looking BlackBerry out of an outside pocket of his backpack and stabs at the call answer button.

“What.”

He turns away, so all Hob can see is the furious, stiff line of his stranger’s back. He can’t hear the other half of the conversation, and he doesn’t think he wants to; every fibre of the man’s body radiates anger and discomfort and perhaps a little bit of shame. Hob adjusts himself discreetly, rezips his jeans, and tiptoes over to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Obviously I am alive. I am fine.” A pause. “I took a walk.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, I know what time it is. No, I am assured that the roads were too bad to make it back to the cabin. I am in a motel room in…” He looks over to Hob. “What is the name of this place?”

Hob supplies the name of the motel, and that of the town as well, just for good measure. The man relays the information into the phone. There is another long pause.

“That is none of your business. Shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you speak to me like that again I will hang up the phone.”

There is another, longer pause, during which the stranger’s face grows progressively redder. He is very deliberately not looking at Hob.

“No. I said no. I will arrange for my own transportation in the morning. I –”

The person on the other end of the phone must say something truly outrageous, because his strangers eyes bug out in a way that looks almost uncomfortable.

“Do the entirety of the known universe a favor and crawl back into whatever slime hole you emerged from and leave me alone,” he hisses. “Goodbye.”

Hob can’t quite muffle a snort at this crowning line. Siblings.

His stranger hangs up the phone with a vicious jab of a button and slams it down on the desk; then seems to reconsider, retrieves it, and shuts it off entirely before throwing it into his backpack. He sighs, a surprisingly tired sound.

“I will have another drink, if you don’t mind,” he says. “And then I would like it very much if you would fuck me. Please.”

Hob’s cock, which had been feeling distinctly neglected, gives a twitch.

“I think that can be arranged,” he says. “Are you –”

The stranger waves a dismissive hand. “I am quite sober enough to have sex with you. And I could easily afford my own room, if that’s a concern. I am here because I want to be.”

“Glad to hear it, but that actually isn’t what I was going to ask,” Hob says mildly.

“Oh,” the man says. A faint blush rises on his cheekbones. He scoops up the whiskey bottle and uncorks it, taking an unceremonious swig. The towel hangs dangerously low around his hips. “What were you going to ask?”

His stranger pauses with the whiskey bottle against his lips. Hob watches the long line of his neck work once, twice, as he swallows, and figures he may as well put his cards on the table.

“I was going to ask if latex condoms are okay. For when I fuck you into the mattress in a minute here.”

The man clears his throat. “Oh,” he says again. “Yes. Latex is fine.”

“Good. Anything you don’t like? Hard boundaries?”

He pauses. “I do not enjoy being choked. Or having my hands restrained in any way. But I like… I like it a little bit rough. It feels good. To be used.”

Hob leans back on one elbow. “Is that what you want me to do? Use you?”

“Yes.”

The word drops into the quiet room like a handful of snow might drop off a tree branch – soft and muffled and sending the same delicious shiver down Hob’s spine.

“I can do that.” Oh, yes. Hob can use this beautiful man, if he is offering himself up to be used. “C’mere, then.”

His stranger walks slowly across the room to where Hob is half-reclining on the bed, feet still planted on the floor. He kneels between Hob’s legs and runs his hands slowly up and down his thighs from knee to hip. “And you?” he asks. “Your boundaries?”

Hob considers. “I’m with you on choking, not a fan,” he says. “I’m not big on pain, generally, but I can give it to other people, if they need it.”

“Alright.” His hands are still rubbing up and down Hob’s thighs, a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. When he speaks again his voice is thick. “Would you consider the preliminary negotiations to be concluded now?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your mouth than spout off like a horny nineteenth century robber baron?” Hob counters.

His stranger smiles, a proper smile that crinkles the corners of his blue eyes, and unzips the fly of Hob’s jeans.

In short order he’s pulled them open and pushed Hob’s boxers down just enough that he can get his cock out. He’s not quite hard, not yet, but he gets there quickly between his stranger’s gentle, surprisingly soft hands and the way he immediately buries his nose in Hob’s pubic hair and breathes deeply as he looks up through his eyelashes.

Then he opens his mouth, and wraps his tongue around the head of Hob’s cock, and Hob’s brain makes a noise like radio static.

Oh, he is good at this. Unfairly good. Supernaturally good. He teases Hob for long, long minutes, working up and down his shaft with light touches of just his lips and tongue, ducking down now and then to mouth gently at his balls, until Hob is twitching and swearing and straining, perched on the edge of the bed. When he finally has mercy and takes Hob’s cock fully into his mouth, it is barely a relief. He is so wet, so hot, and he sinks down on Hob with no resistance, no trace of a gag reflex. Before he can stop himself, Hob’s hips jerk forward that final fraction, and suddenly his stranger’s nose is brushing his pubic bone and his throat is contracting around the head of Hob’s cock.

He’s expecting the man to pull back, to splutter in indignation, but instead he makes an encouraging noise and squeezes Hob’s thigh before folding his hands almost primly in his lap.

“Fuck,” Hob mutters. He makes an experimental shallow thrust into the tight, wet heat of his stranger’s mouth. “Really?”

His stranger can’t nod, not with Hob’s prick in his mouth, but he moans. Hob feels it vibrate all along the length of his shaft and has to stifle a whimper of his own. He sinks one hand into the soft riot of the man’s hair, still a little damp from the shower, and cradles the back of his skull. The bone feels sweet and finely formed in his hand.

“You want me to fuck your pretty face?” he asks, soft and just a tiny bit mean. “Yeah? That’s what your mouth is good for, isn’t it?”

He thrusts again, in and out, and the stranger’s eyes roll back a little in his head, so he does it again, and again. Soon he really is fucking his face, not too hard but deep, fingers tightening in his stranger’s hair as his eyes fall nearly shut, narrowing to crystalline blue crescents.

Hob pulls back briefly to let his stranger breathe. Runs his thumb along his bottom lip, dripping with spit, before he pushes back in. He doesn’t stop until he can feel the first tendrils of orgasm beckoning to him; but as tempting as it is to keep going, to empty himself into this perfect mouth, he’s made a promise. And Hob is a man of his word, so he pulls the man off his cock by the scruff of his neck. He makes an obscene noise as he goes, and another thing string of saliva dribbles from his puffy mouth. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks up at Hob.

“Get up on the bed, baby,” Hob orders gently.

When the man stands up the towel is just barely clinging to his narrow hips, and his erection is stiff and straining against the terrycloth. He’s so hard, Hob thinks wonderingly, just from having Hob’s cock in his mouth for a few minutes, and his own prick throbs in sympathy.

“Hands and knees,” Hob says, and the man crawls up on the bed. The towel falls away as he goes, languid but obedient, so that he’s entirely naked when Hob positions himself behind him. The contrast between Hob’s clothes and the other man’s nudity is delicious – Hob’s rough denim against the man’s soft thighs, Hob’s hairy wrists poking out from worn flannel as he runs his fingernails along sharply elegant shoulder blades.

He allows himself one long, gentle caress, from the nape of his stranger’s neck down to the shallow dimples in the small of his back, before he grabs at the man’s buttocks and unceremoniously spreads him open.

His hole looks surprisingly loose and relaxed already. Hob runs the pad of one thumb over it.

“Were you prepping yourself in the shower?” he asks, delighted. He presses gently and the furl of muscle gives, just a little, pink and fluttering.

“Hng,” says his stranger, shuddering. “Yes. I thought – I thought about your hands. Oh. I liked the thought that you were just outside the door. While I had my fingers inside myself.”

“Impatient little minx,” Hob says fondly. He kisses one of the lovely knobs of his stranger’s spine and pinches his backside for good measure before pulling away. “Stay here.”

He has to dig down to the bottom of his duffel bag in order to find the box of condoms and the little travel sized bottle of lube. He’d felt a little self-conscious when he’d packed them back in his flat in London – like he was presuming something – but then again he had been preparing for a supposedly romantic road trip with his girlfriend.

He’s glad, now, that he has them.

His stranger has remained on his knees, pitched forward to rest on his elbows, face pressed into a pillow and cock hanging heavy between his legs.

“Good boy,” Hob praises, and runs his hand along the man’s flank. “Beautiful. Oh, darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. And then you’re going to make me feel so good, aren’t you? You already have,” Hob coos, drizzling lube directly onto his arsehole. “And I know you’re going to keep being a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Before the man can answer, Hob slips a finger inside him, right up to the first knuckle. He’s rewarded with a whimper and the feeling of his stranger pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

And then not so silently. “More,” moans the stranger. “Fuck. More, please.”

Hob strokes his finger in and out, petting the velvet inside his stranger.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll get more.”

He tries to spend as much time torturing his stranger with his fingers as his stranger had spent torturing him with his mouth, but by the second finger he finds his resolve dissolving like so many snowflakes on warm skin. The man is making such wanton sounds, and his knees skid wider and wider on the slippery motel bedspread, opening him inexorably to Hob’s hungry eyes and questing hands.

“Oh. Oh,” he says. “Oh, yes, fuck,” he moans. No more well-crafted phrases or erudite words; the only thing dropping from that perfect mouth are noises, guttural and breathy by turns, only half-muffled by the pillow his face is smashed into.

“Please,” he begs, “please, in me, I – please, I need –”

Hob obliges.

He’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life as he shoves his jeans down around his thighs and rolls the condom on. He has to do it one-handed, clumsily, because some frantic corner of his brain is convinced that if he lets go of the stranger’s hip then the man will disappear, between one blink and the next, and this whole night will turn out to have been some snowblind fever dream.

But his stranger stays where Hob has put him, desperate and writhing, begging for Hob’s cock, and when he finally pins the man down to the mattress and pushes into him, that first hard thrust is enough to silence both of them.

The room is utterly still for a heartbeat, and then another, and then one more, until Hob pulls out in order to thrust in again and his stranger wails and then Hob is fucking into him in earnest, fucking him hard, until the sound of their skin slapping together almost drowns out the sounds his stranger is making beneath him.

Almost.

His stranger moans and pants, and Hob answers him, thrust for thrust and moan for moan, Yes and Ah and Christ and Fuck, fuck me, use me, yes. He grips his stranger by the hips, so hard that his fingers leave little white divots behind when he shifts his grip, so hard that he worries he might leave bruises, and still the man pushes back against him and begs for more.

He comes, when he finally comes, untouched, rutting gracelessly against the mattress. Hob stills, grits his teeth, not wanting to overwhelm the other man as he seizes in pleasure, but his stranger continues to move against him, if anything even more desperate, even in the throes of orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, “don’t, oh God, fuck me through it, don’t stop –”

So Hob hauls him up and pushes him down, one hand on his waist and one shoving his chest down into the mattress as the man’s hands scrabble at the sheets and he sobs and Hob pistons into him until he empties himself, until his prick is oversensitive and his stranger is twitching around and beneath him, and the room is finally quiet.

Then Hob takes the condom off, knots it and tosses it towards the wastebasket. He rolls them both away from the wet spot with only middling success, but he’s too tired to care. He shucks the rest of his clothes off. He is boneless and spent, and his stranger is inserting himself relentlessly into Hob’s personal space. They lie there for a long, long moment, sweaty and panting, until their breathing starts to even out and the desperate closeness has receded into normal cuddling. Hob presses a kiss to his stranger’s sweaty temple and marvels at his luck.

“I realize I neglected to ask you why you find yourself in Northern California,” his stranger says, tucked against Hob’s side, voice drowsy and hoarse. “Do you care to share?”

“It’s a long story,” Hob says. “I was – well, I am – on a road trip. With my, ah. With my girlfriend. Well. Ex-girlfriend, now. Actually.”

His stranger tenses slightly, and Hob doesn’t blame him; he knows how it must sound. “It sounds like there is a story there?” the man says, almost tentative.

“Yeah, we… we came over together, about two weeks ago. We flew into Seattle, were planning this whole big trip, right down the coast and all the way to Los Angeles. See the redwoods, do some wine tastings, the whole bit. I’m a photographer, I was thinking I could turn the whole trip into a photo essay, maybe even a book.” He sighs. “Then she heard about this yoga retreat, ashram sort of place. Bit culty, I don’t really go in for all that, but she absolutely had to check it out, so we did. Two days later, out of the blue, she tells me our chakras are misaligned and gives me the boot. Turns out Guru Todd Thingummy, who ran the retreat center, was very aligned with her chakras. As well as other, less… metaphysical things.”

There’s a sound from the vicinity of Hob’s armpit that he realizes with delight is a snort. The snort blossoms into a chuckle, and then his stranger is laughing, a frankly horrible honking sort of laugh, shaking in Hob’s arms with it, and Hob laughs along.

“I’m sorry,” his stranger gasps. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t laugh at you. It’s just… Guru Todd.”

“I know!” Hob snickers. “You can picture him, right? White boy dreadlocks and a fucking… shell necklace. Utter tosser.”

“I feel like I’ve probably met someone almost exactly like him, truly.” Eventually his stranger’s horrible laugh subsides. He shifts against Hob, playing idly with his chest hair, curling it around one finger. “In a way, I am also escaping a recent ex. She was the first person I dated after some… difficult experiences I had about a year ago. But in the end I was far more invested in the relationship than she, and she became. Uncomfortable. With my ardor.”

“She’s a bloody idiot then,” Hob says automatically, and his stranger looks up, startled.

“Do you think so?”

Hob briefly considers backpedaling. Don’t come off like a madman, he thinks to himself. Not when he’s finally talking to you. But there’s no hope for him. “Well, yeah. I mean, I’d say your ardor is my favorite thing about you so far.” He lets one hand drift down and gives his stranger’s arse a cheeky squeeze, and is rewarded with a squeak and another snort.

“You are kind to say so,” the man says, and interrupts himself with a yawn.

“It’s true. I… I’m really glad I met you,” Hob says honestly. Too honestly. He can’t help himself; the man is just so beautiful, mouth kissed red and limbs loose, fucked out and soft everywhere he’d been hard and prickly before.

Hob still doesn’t know his name.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” the man says softly.

Hob snuggles them both down into the lumpy motel pillows and pulls the blanket up firmly around their shoulders. The wind blows outside, he reaches up to switch off the lamp, and they fall asleep.

He wakes in the night and stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss. When he comes back, his stranger has starfished out and is taking up a full two-thirds of the bed, sleeping like a stone. Hob manages to reinsert himself into the remaining third and then simply lies there for a long few minutes, looking at the other man.

The skies must have cleared, at least a little, because there’s a few strips of moonlight filtering through the blinds. The pale light turns his stranger into marble, a work of art; he practically glows against the blue sheets. Hob’s fingers itch for his camera.

“You’re going to fuck me up,” he whispers. “I’m going to wake up next to you and never want to leave, and it’s going to fuck me up so bad.”

The sleeping man does not respond, of course; doesn’t even stir. Hob lies there, and gazes at him, until he slips back into sleep himself.

When he wakes again it’s fully morning. The sun is that peculiar thin shade of blue that you get on very cold mornings, but when Hob peeks out the window, the sky is clear and the snowplows have clearly been out making the rounds. He tries to tamp down a sudden feeling of disappointment.

He gets a drink of water, and when he returns to bed his stranger is stirring. First one blue eye opens, then the other.

“Morning,” Hob says.

The man hums and stretches luxuriously, rolling from his belly to his back. The sheets fall down around his hips, revealing one elegant hipbone and a tempting glimpse of dark curls. His pale skin practically glows against the blue sheets in the morning light.

“Enjoying the view?” his stranger asks, and his voice is rough with sleep and slightly hoarse.

“You could say that,” Hob says. He puts one knee on the bed, reaches out to run a hand lightly down the long, lean line of the man’s thigh. “God, you’re… you are so beautiful.”

“Come here to me,” the man says, beckoning to Hob.

Hob ducks his head and kisses up the ladder of the man’s ribs, takes one pert nipple gently between his teeth.

“Can I take your picture?” he says suddenly. “Not in a creepy way. I can even keep your face out of it if you like, I just… there’s something about you, in this light.”

“I don’t mind,” the man says.

Hob’s heart leaps.

A few minutes later, he’s gotten his camera out and adjusted. The room is so quiet, so still, that each click of the shutter sounds almost sacrilegious. He shoots in black and white. He thinks the sheets will show dark, almost black, and the man’s skin will show light and luminous against them. His stranger poses like a dream, languid and biddable, moving here and there on the bed, wherever Hob arranges him.

“You’ve done this before,” Hob accuses. He’s kneeling above the other man, shooting straight down, and his stranger has one arm thrown over his face so only one eye is visible. “Posed, I mean. You know how to move for a camera.”

“I have,” the stranger admits. “Mostly for life drawing classes, though I imagine the principle is more or less the same.”

“Incredible. Are you an artist, then?”

“I suppose.”

Hob tugs the sheet a little lower, so that it’s just barely covering the stranger’s prick, which has plumped up a little – whether from the attention of Hob himself or of the camera, he’s not sure, but it’s one of the sexiest things Hob’s ever seen. The neat patch of dark hair blending into the dark sheet. The gentle swell beneath it. His mouth waters.

“You suppose?”

“I find it difficult to call myself an artist. To claim that title. But I make art. If that is the same thing.”

“Hmm. I reckon so.”

Hob pulls the sheet another fraction of an inch lower. He can feel himself getting distracted. The itch he’d felt to photograph the beautiful stranger, now mostly satisfied, has transformed into an altogether different kind of impulse. He takes one more shot, barely paying attention to the framing. Catches himself licking his lips.

“Hob.”

“Yeah?”

“Put the camera down.”

He hastens to obey.

He’d pulled his boxers back on at some point last night, but they do little to hide his arousal as he slides under the sheets and slots himself in behind his stranger, rubbing his nose in the riotous bedhead and kissing his neck as the man tilts his head to one side to give him better access.

“I like how you say my name,” Hob murmurs. He grinds against his stranger’s narrow arse and reaches around to make a loose fist around his hardening cock. “You’re really not going to tell me yours, are you?”

“Mine?”

“Your name.”

“I –” The man’s breath hitches as Hob tightens his grip, stroking slowly up and down. “I haven’t – decided yet.”

“Well,” Hob says against the smooth skin between his ear and his shoulder. “Let me know what you decide.”

They writhe together under the sheets for a few minutes, until they’re both fully hard, until Hob’s chest is slightly tacky with sweat where it’s rubbing against the stranger’s sharp shoulder blades. He’s grunting, underwear pulled down, making quick little thrusts in the crease of the other man’s thigh, sticky and warm and so good.

“Fuck me again,” his stranger says. “Please.”

“Don’t be a madman,” Hob chides. “You’ll be so sore.”

But he doesn’t say no. And he slides a finger between the man’s arse cheeks and pets over his hole, still a little loose from the night before.

The stranger twists his neck around to look Hob in the eye. “I don’t care. I want you,” he says. “I want to feel it.”

And Hob tries his best to be a good person, he really does, but when confronted with this bald-faced desire he is only, after all, a man. So he mumbles Fuck, okay, yeah, okay against his stranger’s shoulder, and tears himself away to retrieve the lube and a condom. He fingers him open, as slowly and as carefully as he can bring himself to do it, and rolls the condom on, and he fucks him again. Face to face, this time; one knee hooked over his elbow, and long arms clinging to him like a drowning man, and panting, open-mouthed kisses that are as much simply breathing the other’s breath as they are real kisses.

The stranger comes first, his beautiful face screwed up in ecstasy, and Hob follows him over the edge mere seconds later.

The other man falls back into a doze almost immediately, drifting off as soon as Hob has disposed of the condom and wiped them down with a handful of tissues, but Hob is buzzing with too much energy to lie back down. He cleans himself up, splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth quickly, before dressing quietly and creeping down to the motel lobby to look for breakfast.

There’s a coffee machine, a few muffins – prepackaged, not fresh – and a rather sad fruit bowl with some mealy-looking apples. He assembles what he can and shoves some creamers and sugar packets in his jacket pocket. He asks the bored teenager at the front desk (a different one than the night before, although bearing a distinct family resemblance) about the weather report, and learns that although it’s supposed to stay cold, no more precipitation is in the forecast. Then he goes back to the room.

His stranger stirs again at the rush of cold air when Hob lets himself back into the room.

“I come bearing provisions,” he says, setting the coffees on the bedside table and dropping the rest of his meager bounty in the man’s lap.

“Foraging for our survival?” he asks dryly.

“Something like that. It’s slim pickings out there, I’m afraid. But hey –” he picks up a muffin and wiggles it “– chocolate chip!”

His stranger snorts and mutters something about being spoiled.

Hob is very careful not to say anything about how he’d like to spoil this man very much, actually, for the foreseeable future and possibly beyond that, because Hob has so longed for someone to care for, and because this man so obviously needs it. Hob eats his muffin, and very carefully does not say anything reckless or emotional.

They finish their motel snacks, and drink their coffees (Hob’s with a little creamer and one sugar; the stranger’s with no cream and an absurd amount of sugar). And eventually Hob broaches the subject that’s obviously hovering between them.

“So,” he says. “What do you want to do now? I’m still up to give you a ride to your cabin, if that’s what you want. The roads are supposed to be cleared by now.”

“I suppose I should,” the stranger says, fiddling with his styrofoam cup, not meeting Hob’s eyes. “I did tell my sibling that I would return in the morning.”

“Okay.” Hob clears his throat. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes them another hour to leave the room. Hob showers, and then his stranger decides he needs to rinse off as well, and then there’s a frustrating search for car keys that turn out to have been kicked or dropped halfway under a bedside table at some point the night before.

Then the stranger stops Hob in the doorway with a hand on his elbow and kisses him, long and slow and wordless, before they step out into the brilliant snowy sparkle of the late morning.

The drive is very quiet. The stranger directs Hob out of town and along a rather steep road that winds up the thickly forested mountainside. It’s certainly not a road that Hob would have wanted to drive in last night’s weather, and even with clear skies and plowed roads he takes it slow, acutely aware of the grip of the rental car’s tires on the snowy highway.

Only one time does the stranger wince and shift uncomfortably when Hob cannot avoid a bump in the road. Hob smiles, and swallows his smile, and deliberately wrenches his mind away from the vivid memories of just why his stranger might be wincing and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His stranger is silent, except for when he briefly tells Hob when and where to turn. The farther they drive up the mountain, the stiffer he becomes, until he’s gripping the seat with white knuckles and his mouth is one firm line.

Hob doesn’t think it’s the wintry roads that are making him so tense.

They pull over, eventually, at the base of a long driveway. Through the trees Hob can see a large house – not really a cabin by any stretch of the imagination, but built of logs, and with a wisp of woodsmoke floating up from a picturesque brick chimney. They both gaze up at it through the trees. Hob puts the car in park but doesn’t turn it off.

“Well, here we are,” he says.

“Indeed,” his stranger says, and his voice sounds tense and slightly strangled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Hob waits for him to open the door and walk away.

The man does not move.

A minute stretches by, and another, and another, and still his stranger has not opened the car door.

Hob dares to hope.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly.

His stranger looks up, startled.

“I mean it. Come with me. Go get your stuff and we’ll just. Drive away. Go down the coast, find somewhere it’s actually warm. Or don’t even get your stuff,” he adds hurriedly, aware that his voice is sounding increasingly unhinged. “Say the word and I’ll just turn the car around. We’ll go. Anywhere you want, just… come with me.”

The man looks at Hob with an unreadable expression for a long moment. “You know nothing about me,” he says finally.

“I know I like you. A lot,” Hob says. “I know last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, maybe one of the best nights of my whole life. I know I’d regret it if I didn’t at least ask. So, I’m asking. Come with me.”

“I haven’t even told you my name,” says his stranger. “I could be a serial killer.”

“You could be, yeah. But I don’t think you are. I think… I think you just want someone to want you.” Hob reaches across the gear shift and briefly touches his stranger on the cheek. The man’s eyes flutter closed and Hob doesn’t think he’s imagining the way he leans ever-so-slightly into the gentle touch before he looks down. “I want you.”

There’s another long silence, punctuated only by an occasional call from the chickadees flitting through the trees.

“My name is Morpheus,” he says to his hands, clenched in his lap. “But some people call me Dream. People – people close to me. Call me Dream.”

Hob smiles. “Can I call you Dream, then?”

Dream nods. “Let’s go,” he says. Hob’s smile widens.

“Want to get anything from inside?” he asks.

“No. I think not,” Dream says. All of a sudden it’s like the tight strings of his body are loosened: he leans back in his seat, crosses his ankles, looking relaxed for the first time since they’d gotten out of bed. He lolls his head to one side and peeks at Hob and his face looks fey and happy in the afternoon light. “I believe I have everything I need for now.”

Happiness wells up in Hob’s chest, a rushing feeling like a mountain spring swollen by melting snow. He puts the car in gear and reaches over to take Dream’s hand.

“Right then,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Read on AO3 >>>

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hangman x female reader

Hangman falling in love with wolfmans daughter,she was so overly sweet and gentle,she couldn’t ever stay mad at someone and he didn’t understand why but she was the one girl who truly made him feel weak to his knees.They we’re best friends and she never once judged him for how he held himself around others,through the arogence and the cockyness somehow she saw straight through it all an when he was having a really hard night and nobody seemed to know because he was great at hiding that,she ended up just sitting in his lap after he finished playing pool and running her hand through the back of his hair not saying anything at all,it was her just trying to relax him though jake found himself making getting excited about something else.

southern belle

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader

warnings: none

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i hate to be THAT person but sorry this took so long, i had this uncompleted in my drafts and i scheduled to post it last week but a hurricane deadass annihilated my state but anyways i decided to make jake and the reader in an already established relationship i hope that’s okay!

“I’ve been hearing some talk about you around base, Bagman,” Natasha said while finishing her turn in pool.

“Well, what can I say? Pilots are big talkers,” he responded, bending over the table to take his shot.

“Saying you’ve got someone back home,”

Jake looked up at her, “Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“So it’s true?”

“Yeah,”

“Are you fucking with me, because it’s not funny.”

Bob, Javy, Bradley, and Mav walk up to the area where they normally hang out in the back of the Hard Deck.

“What’s Jake doing this time,” Bradley asks, handing a beer to Natasha.

She takes a sip of her beer and looks around at everyone, “Is Jake actually married or is he fucking with me?”

“He’s married,” almost everyone says in unison.

“Bagman? Like Jake Seresin? Is married?”

Maverick laughs, “Yep, his high school sweetheart if I’m correct,”

“Yes sir,”

“How do you know that? How did everyone know he’s married?”

“He’s married to my Goddaughter,” Natasha’s mouth dropped open and it was like her jaw was going to hit the floor.

“And one of my childhood friends,” Bradley added.

“What?”

“Yeah. None of us have met her but Jake’s said things here and there about her,” Javy says, taking a seat and pointing in between himself and the rest of the squad, excluding Jake, Bradley, and Maverick.

“This is unbelievable. How is Jake Seresin married and I’m not?”

—

This weekend was one that wasn’t too busy for the aviators, so you decided to come up to go house hunting with Jake. You wanted to be with him, but you also wanted him to stay at his base in San Diego. So you compromised and decided to move out to California.

Of course you were going to miss your little place in Texas, but it was worth moving if it meant you would be with Jake again. You had been apart for almost 3 weeks while he worked and you got the moving details sorted out.

You flew in around 7 and texted Jake that you were there. He told you to come down to a little bar called the Hard Deck. You heard your stomach rumble, yeah, you could eat.

You managed to get a rental car and drive yourself out there. When you arrived, you couldn’t help but to feel nervous. You hadn’t met any of his fellow pilots or friends in California, well except for Maverick and Penny.

You grabbed your phone and hopped out of the car. Walking in, you spotted Jake across the bar, and you felt like you had butterflies in your stomach. Even after 6 years, he could still make you feel like a high school girl with a crush.

You divert your attention away to behind the bar where you spot Penny. You walk over to her and lean against the bar. She’s pouring a beer, “I’ll be right with you,” she slides the beer down the bar and turns to you.

She gasps and smiles widely, exclaiming your name. “What are you doing here?” She tells someone to cover for her and walks out from behind the bar. She engulfs you in a big hug.

“I’m up here for a while to look for houses with Jake. I mean he’s got a place but we just figured we would rather have a bigger place with a yard, you know, just in case,” you winked.

“I see,” Penny smiled back. She worked her way back behind the bar, “Well what can I get for you tonight?”

“Get me one of whatever Jake is having,”

“I’m on it,” she winked and smiled while going to pour your drink. You kept yourself leaning against the bar.

Jake spotted you from across the bar and got butterflies. Even after 6 years, you could still make him as flustered as the day you met. He set down his cue stick and walked over to Natasha, “Hey, Trace, how much do you bet that I can get that girl’s number,” he pointed over to you.

She looked at him confused, “I thought you were married?” I mean, he had to have a little fun tonight. Jake pretended to slick back his hair and made his way over to you. Natasha watched with a shocked face, but Maverick knew exactly what was happening, this wasn’t the first time he had pulled a stunt like this.

He finally got to where you were standing and leaned against the bar next to you, “Hey, Darlin’, what are you drinking tonight?”

You turned and smiled at him, “You know, I’m havin’ whatever my husband is havin’,”

“Shame you’re married, we could’ve made a good match,” he pretended to pout. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck and he leant down and kissed you softly.

Across the bar, Natasha dropped her pool cue in disbelief. She watched Penny come back with a beer and talk to Jake and the mysterious woman. The woman grabbed her beer and Jake grabbed her hand, leading her back to the group. Natasha’s mouth was still wide open.

The pair came over, laughing. “This is my wife,” he introduced you to the Dagger Squad. Natasha shut her mouth, which was now dry and she watched your interactions with the rest of the team. You walked over to Maverick first and he engulfed you in a fatherly-like embrace. “It’s good to see you kid,”

“You too, Uncle Mav.” Okay so Maverick wasn’t lying about you being his Goddaughter. This was unbelievable for Natasha Trace. How in the world is Jake “Hangman” Seresin, married to a sweet thing like you?

You made your way around the area, introducing yourself to all of Jake’s friends.

“Bradshaw,” you smile.

“Wolfe,” you squint your eyes at him, “Not anymore, Bradshaw, I’m a Seresin now, I have been for a while too,”

“Really? You’d rather take on this dip’s name, rather than keep the cool one?”

“Alright, Bradshaw, that’s enough slander on my humble family name,” Jake cut in. Natasha watched the interaction between the three of you, well I guess Bradley wasn’t lying about you being childhood friends.

Maybe she’s in some sort of nightmare, this can’t be real. You walked over to Natasha last, “Hi,” you tried to introduce yourself to her, but Jake interrupted you, “This is the Mrs.,” he said proudly.

You rolled your eyes at him and introduced yourself to her in the way you wanted, “You must be Natasha, I’ve heard so much about you from Mav. He says you’re an amazing pilot,” you smiled at her and she smiled back, in a forced kind of way. She wanted to reach out and touch your face to make sure you were real.

“So you’re married to Jake?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Like, you?”

You giggled, “I am,”

“Natasha, seriously–”

“Jake, this is your wife? But she’s so sweet and you’re so… not,”

You gasped, “My Jake? He could never even hurt a fly, his momma raised him better than that. He’s the sweetest man I know!” You knew he wasn’t, but you had to have a little fun. You’ve been with Jake for 6 years, of course you knew he had a temper, teasing tendencies, and a bit of an attitude, but you’d never admit it out loud.

“See, thank you, sweetheart. At least someone has my side,”

“Of course, baby,”

—

You spent the rest of the night trading stories and sipping beer. The bar began to empty and soon enough it was only your group in there.

Jake was sitting across from you, watching you tell stories of when you two were in high school. He didn’t know how you did it, but just the looks you gave him made him weak in the knees. He began to get more tipsy and more emotionally overwhelmed.

He came over to you and sat down, he laid his head on your shoulder and you didn’t even think twice. You ran your hand through his hair as he lay down, you didn’t even blink when he came over, you just continued to tell your story.

When you were finished talking, he pulled himself up to your ear and whispered to you, asking to go home. You nodded and waited for Bob to finish his story.

When the end of the story came, you stood up and grabbed Jake’s hand, “I think it’s time for us to head out. It was wonderful to meet you all tonight, we should do this again soon.” You all said your goodbyes and you dragged Jake out to the rental car.

“Baby, my truck,” he pouted.

“We can come back for it tomorrow, honey, right now let’s get you home,”

He nodded and followed you to the car, you helped him in and you got into the driver’s seat, you having had much less to drink than Jake. You pulled out of the parking lot of the Hard Deck and began to make your way home to the apartment.

A perfect ending to a perfect night.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

TW: violence, choking, mentions of bdsm, abuse of authority, cops, unfair power dynamics, harassment, body fluids and drug use mentions, mentions of harm/accidents

For California, it’s a bit chilly out this morning. The sun is getting a lazy late start, just beginning to yawn golden orange and fiery yellow over the horizon. Julian’s hair in that light is the high shine of fashion magazine model locs, and you’re, as usual, opening your mouth before you think. “What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”

He seems thoroughly amused. “Honestly? You’re going to be mad about it.” 

“Try me,” you prod, slipping inside his little sports car that smells like lemon air freshener and coffee. 

He seems a little cramped in the seat, knees bent up and head almost touching the ceiling, and you wonder if he actually even tried to get into this thing before buying it. 

“It’s a rental,” he explains.

“Did you get into an accident?”

“A truck hit mine while it was parked.” 

“How are you so calm about that? I’d punch someone.” 

He looks over at you with a sculpted, raised brow. “I just cannot imagine you hurting a fly, y/n.” 

“Flies are innocent, truck drivers are free game.” 

He gives you a big laugh that strokes the flame of your ego. “You’re hilarious. I use men’s body wash.” 

“What?” Okay, he’s right, you are a little mad. You use shampoo and conditioner that are specifically supposed to soften your hair, but the poof on your head absolutely pales in comparison to his soft, beautiful mane that gets the luxury of … what? Old spice? Axe body wash? 

“I told you,” he sings, turning on the engine. 

Genetics is a bitch. 

He takes you to a fancy little French inspired coffee shop cuddled into the center of an outlet mall with salt lamps and big ferns and comfy chairs. You settle into a nook closests to the sunned windows so Julian can keep an eye on his rental, which is understandable. No part of LA is good to have a Porsche in, but especially not the inner city. 

“This is delicious,” you tell him through a mouthful of warm croissant, covering your lips in embarrassment when you realize that your table manners are less than adequately prepared for a date with a doctor. 

“They have the best coffee,” he agrees, taking a sip of his steaming latte. 

You don’t have time to stop your brain from comparing Julian to a certain cop you know who prefers his coffee black and bitter, or at least that’s what he told you when he saw you drinking your vanilla cream cold foam at the nurse’s station. 

Julian is talking, you think, and you’re only half listening while you remember how Tom had snatched that drink right out of your hands and held it up in the air. 

“Give it back!” You hissed, reaching up on tiptoes while he laughed at the pathetic rescue attempt. 

“Careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself for this pathetic excuse of caffeine. What is it anyway? Is there even coffee in here?” 

After he walked away with his discharge paperwork, your coworkers were understandably curious about the tall, puckish cop who fucked with you any chance he got. 

Miguel watched his ass move the whole way down the hallway and out the glass exit doors while literally clutching the rosary under his scrub shirt as if a devil had just walked by, then looked over at you. “What a man.”

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, bringing you back to the present conversation with a hand over your forearm. He does seem concerned, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit. This guy is a gentleman and here you are on a date with him fantasizing about the brute that is Tom Ludlow. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You wave away his concern. “Tell me about you, Julian. What do you do for fun? Doctor-by-night, Violin-player-by-morning? 

He chuckles. “Nothing that cultured. I like riding motorcycles.”

“Really?” You ask, genuinely surprised and trying to imagine Julian in a gang of bikers with cracked leather skull and snake jackets. 

“I love them.” He nods. “I have three that I take for long rides along the coast. You get lost in it, the wind and salt and sand. The rumble of the engine under you.”

“I’ve never been on one,” you tell him, “and I’m honestly surprised you ride them after what we see in the ER. Don’t you remember that guy that had his calf hanging on by a tendon? Or that woman who had half her face missing?” 

“Yes, I do. But I go the speed limit and wear the proper gear. And I like the thrill.” 

It’s not just the casual t-shirt and worn jeans or the way the light halos his thick silk nest of hair or the roguish grin that makes you see Julian in an entirely new way, now. “You’re wild, Dr. Mercer.”

He licks spilled cream at the ridge of his coffee cup, rubs at the skin of your forearm with his fingers, and winks. You wonder what he would look like between your legs doing the same thing, except with your fingers gripping that luscious hair. 

“You should let me take you for a ride, sometime,” he suggests, and for a minute you forget you’re talking about motorcycles. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Julian.”

“C’mon.” He nudges your knee under the table and relaxes back into his seat, now reminding you too much of someone else you know. Same height, same hair color, same facial structure. 

Fuck. Really? 

“Good boyfriends take their girlfriends on long, romantic motorcycle rides.” 

“But you’re not my boyfriend.”

His smile droops a little bit and it makes you feel bad for being so illiterately ignorant. Well, you feel bad until he opens his mouth. “I am, though.”

He paints it playful, but it sounds a little bit pushy-bossy, even. “I don’t know about that, either, Julian.”

He tries a different angle. “You know, believe it or not, most women would consider me quite the catch.” 

You hope your face doesn’t betray the little bit of ick you get from him saying something so egotistical. “I don’t doubt it, and you deserve someone that can give you what you’re looking for.” 

“You think you can’t give me what I’m looking for?” He leans across the table in sudden intensity, and you balk at the notion. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Why?”

You start to say something, but he cuts you off. “And, I really mean why? Why can’t you give me what I’m looking for? Enlighten me.” 

“I’m not-I have too much baggage.” You unconsciously lean away from his swelling intensity. 

“That’s a little vague.” He frowns. 

“I’m not normal, Julian. You seem like you would like normal women.” You cringe at the childish sentiment, but truly have no idea how to get the point across except for basically telling him that you’re a freak with a bad past and worse coping mechanisms. You eat slices of bread for dinner and drink out of the milk carton. Julian probably irons his shirts. This will not work. 

“You’re assuming I’m normal?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” You lean back and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ll prove it to you.” He takes out his wallet, pulls a laminated card from it, and slides it over the table to you. 

“What..” It’s a little red card framed in black with big bold letters on the front advertising a BDSM club in the heart of downtown Venice. “What is this?” 

“BDSM is bondage, domination-“

“I know what that is,” you interrupt. “I just meant.. You go here?”

“I do.” He nods and takes a drink. “I occasionally engage in scenes.”

You decide that you should coat your suddenly very dry mouth and drink a big gulp of your coffee. “Like with a dominatrix?”

He laughs at you, puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “No. I prefer to be the dominant one.” 

You look at-really, really look at this man for the first time and honestly cannot imagine him taking that role. 

He must see the confusion on your face, because his laughter grows. “That’s the usual reaction I get.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the-you know what, fuck it. 

“So, what do you do at the club?” 

“A typical play scene, you mean?” How in the hell he can be so casual and relaxed about this you’re not sure. Because you can already feel the cold sweat breaking along your shoulders and neck. 

“I guess? Yeah.”

“Well, ideally the woman is tied up in some fashion, and of course there’s a safe word, negotiated limits. Perhaps a punishment scenario with pain play. Are you okay?” 

He looks at your table-clutching, white knuckled hands, searches your face, giving you a genuine concerned expression that makes you wonder what actually is going on with you right now. You feel like you're on a tightrope over a ravine of crocodiles and Julian’s on the other end lazily sawing at the rope with dull scissors.

“I’m fine,” you say breathily, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about all that.”

His gentle smile is nothing less than kind, though maybe also, a little disappointed. “I get that a lot too.”

“Is that…the only way you enjoy sex?” you ask quietly, leery of the blue-haired old lady just two tables away.

“No,” he seems happy to tell you. “Though it is…the way I enjoy sex most.”

You blink, digesting this with understandable trepidation. He’s basically telling you that it would be impossible to be in a relationship with him without dipping into this eventually. And you…? 

Are definitely intrigued, and you’re not really sure why.

“You said you have baggage,” Julien probes cautiously. You can feel him looking at you, but you’re not quite up to eye contact with him yet. You fix your gaze out the window. “Well, I do too. I haven’t had a perfect life. No one does, and I’m not interested in a perfect girlfriend. I like you, y/n.”

You feel your breath go out in an audible whoosh. It actually makes him smile-you feel it like rays of the sun. How can this man be so warm, and yet have such a dark side?

Well, maybe it’s not a dark side, you reason. Maybe it’s just…a thing he likes, and between consenting adults, what’s the harm?

“So…” You can’t help but think about how odd this is, discussing this in this coffee shop filled with mild-mannered caffeine addicts. What you really want to ask, is what happened to him that makes him like this kind of sexual play, but you know it would be too far, and you damn well don’t feel like talking about your own fucked up past. But there is something you do feel you have a right to know. “Is this something you want to do to me?” 

Again, he fixes you with that bad boy smirk that gives you chills and utterly ruins your panties. “Since the moment you stood up to me over that patient,” he admits. And maybe that should alarm you, that he wants to tie you up and hurt you for being defiant about something that deserved defiance. It does alarm you, but… It also… It sounds a little thrilling. “In fact-“

Julian and the rest of the world and even your own thoughts disappear when you meet a pair of familiar, sun tinted eyes out the window of the coffee shop. He’s grinning-when is he not grinning at you like he knows what it does to your helpless insides?-and licking his fingers, tearing off a yellow parking ticket to slap it under the windshield of Julian’s rental.

“Uh, Julian-“ 

“Just let me finish,” Julian insists. His bossy tone irritates you, but Tom brightens the mood by making a jerking off motion towards the doctor, and then winking at you. 

You can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly involuntary, the loud wheeze that tears from your chest and makes Julian look outside to see the yellow ticket shining under his wiper as Ludlow’s ass saunters away. 

You’re not sure what Julian’s plan is when he storms outside to catch Ludlow by the arm, but you’re definitely following ten strides behind to prevent his untimely death. 

“I’m parked legally.” His voice is a menacing growl instead of the smooth honey you’re used to, and yeah, maybe now you can see a little bit of that Dominant Persona he was talking about. 

“Not after 9AM,” Tom says, unbothered by Julian’s anger, still grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s eight-thirty,” Julian argues, tugging on Tom’s sleeve-that earns him a bent back arm and even the appearance of handcuffs. 

“Tom, stop it, fucking really?” 

“Sorry, honey, your boyfriend’s going to jail.” 

“For what?!” You and Julian both demand at once. 

“Putting his pristine fucking hands on what’s mine.” Tom tugs Julian up on his toes and clicks one handcuff into place. 

You hope he means his uniform, but you have a feeling he doesn’t. 

“That’s way too tight and you know it,” Julian grunts. 

“What, someone likes to dish it out but can’t take it? Don’t be a bitch,” Tom muses, grabbing Julian’s other arm and twisting it-not gently-behind his back. 

“Tom, you fucking dickhead.” 

He looks at you as he’s putting the other cuff on your date. “Oh, I’ll deal with you later.” His grin looks more like a snarl at this point, and you think that Julian could probably take some pretty good Dom pointers from Tom, because your heart is galloping and your clit is pulsing despite the absolute absurdity of the situation. Also-it's a miracle-your sassing mouth has snapped shut. 

After Officer Ludlow practically throws Dr. Mercer into the back of his Charger, slamming the door, he turns to you with a smirk and his thumb in his belt. Goddammit, if that fucking look doesn’t go straight to your lady parts.

“Tom…you cannot do this.” 

A tow truck has pulled up, and is in process of impounding the sweet little Porsche.

He steps up to you in those big black boots that make him a mile tall.

“You’d be surprised what I can and cannot do, sweetheart.”

“Please.” You hate how desperate you know you sound. 

He taps his chin. “Well, I do like the sound of that. But it would be a lot more convincing if you got on your knees and said it.”

“You asshole,” you seethe, even as you can feel the moisture pooling between your legs.

“That kinda language definitely isn’t going to get Doctor Bitch Boy out of my car.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” You know it was a stupid question the moment it flies from your mouth. He’s going to reply with something filthy, and demeaning, and-

“Have dinner with me.”

You’re going to need another tow truck just to get your jaw up off the ground. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” you say. “This isn’t harassing a lowly broke-ass nurse. He is going to sue the shit out of you.”

Tom just snorts at that, unimpressed. “Did you know your friend likes to hang out at a BDSM club in Venice Beach? Whips and chains and shit? Bet this asshole has mommy issues from here to Pasadena. Come on, y/n, you don’t need that in your life.”

It almost sounds like he’s…worried about you?

Officer Ludlow has no idea how badly he’s misjudged you, now that he’s pissed you off. “Maybe I like it,” you snipe back, stretching up so you’re almost in his face. “Fact is, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Ludlow just narrows his eyes down at you, those dark orbs glinting like sharp obsidian. “Well, sorry, guess he’s not tying you up tonight, baby. He’s gotta cool down in the tank.”

He makes to go, but you reach out, not grabbing him, per se, but just touching his chest. He freezes, and you can practically feel him vibrating beneath your hand. With excitement, because he fucking lives for being an asshole, or…you hate to think you know the real answer.

His mitt of a hand covers yours, holding it just above his heart.

“Tom….” Caught up in this tension between you, you’re not even sure what you’re asking now. 

You expect him to say something dirty, or snide, but instead you swear that just for a moment, his gaze softens as he looks down at you. “Dinner?” he asks again, with a note of hope in his voice that is almost endearing, if he wasn’t being such a class A jerk.

“I can’t.”

His demeanor changes in less than a second, drawing up to his full height, his shoulders squared. He flicks down his sunglasses that were on his head, so you can no longer even see his eyes. His voice changes, drops an octave, something. The authority in it makes you shudder inside. “Wave to Dr. Bitch Boy, y/n, we’re going for a little ride.”

Before you can grab him, or do anything, really, Tom is behind the wheel, speeding off with a very pissed off Julian in the back seat.

Your heart drops to your feet as you are left standing there alone on the sidewalk without a ride, and completely at a loss as to what to do.

***

“I’m going to fucking sue you,” Julian grits, kicking the back of Tom’s seat for good measure. 

“Yeah, yeah, with your doctor money,” Tom grumbles, taking a big swig of coffee with one hand and steering recklessly with the other because it’s fun to watch that skinny fuck bounce around helplessly in the seat. 

“I’m not getting booked tonight, Officer Ludlow. I’m calling my fucking lawyer.”

“Sorry, Doctor Bitch, your Lawyer’s busy until tomorrow afternoon, didn’t you hear?”

“You son of a-“

Tom gasses the car over a big pothole and it sends Julian flying into the opposite door. It’s a sight he could almost get off to.

Julian, big goose egg swelling up on his temple, gets yanked out of the squad car and tossed on the shit smeared, needle peppered streets of South Central. “They probably need you here more than the hospital, Doctor. Have fun–”

“Wait! Fuck. I’m still cuffed for fuck’s sake!” Tom gives the little guy credit for being able to get up on his feet so fast with his hands behind his back and a probable minor concussion. “You can’t leave me here.”

Tom pauses with his hand on the lip of the hot car door, but only to memorize the sight of a sweat-stained, wild eyed, trembling distinguished doctor about to get his shit wrecked on the mean LA Streets. He’s guessing Julian’s never visited much outside of Hollywood, Venice, and Santa Monica, and the cute little horrified expression on his face is testament to that. 

Tom taps the hood of his car. “See ya, Doc.” 

“You know,” Julian says, “this isn’t going to stop me from seeing her, Tom.” 

Well, if he wants a fight. 

Tom slams the charger door, whips off his belt, backs Julian up until he falls on his ass into a steaming puddle of unknown origin, and loops the leather around his neck. 

He tugs him up by the belt, onto his toes, eliminating that fraction of height difference just so he can see the whites of this prick’s eyes. 

He doubles the wrap of the belt in his fist, and Julian sputters something unintelligible through a thick choke. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you liked this shit?” Tom pretends to wait for an answer that he prevents. “Oh, that’s right, you like being the one doing the choking. That gets your dick wet, huh? Beating on women?” 

He wants nothing more than to choke this fucker unconscious and leave him on the streets for the hepatitis rats to chew on his toes, and, fuck it, if he ends up passing out by the time Tom’s done saying his peace, then so be it. 

“You can see her all you want, asshole. Take her on as many dates as you like. But if I see one fuckin’ bruise on her-one red mark on that pretty skin-I’m gonna make the rest of your short life very fucking unpleasant. Comprende?” 

[sjelaine]

"Louisrock" July 7, 2024

I had a friend who lives in Turku where Ruisrock is held, so as soon as I saw that Louis would play it (back in November,) I contacted my friend to see if she would be home - she said yes!  I bought an early bird ticket to the festival and had my lodging all set, so then I just needed an airplane ticket from California to Helsinki and a rental car.  I then found out another friend (from the same fandom as my Turku friend) was going to Ruisrock as well, to see Käärijä, who as it happens was playing on the same stage as Louis but 2 hours ahead of him, so I had a friend to go to the concert with me!  Normally I have to see Louis by my lonesome because none of my friends are in the 1D fandom, but it's okay because Louies are the nicest friendliest people out there and I am never short of new friends to scream all the words to Louis' songs with at the concerts.  IMO this is the very best thing about being a Louie -- all the other Louies!

We got to the festival site two hours before doors opened so we would be sure to be toward the front.  All the festival signs were in Finnish and my friend is Swedish and I'm American, so we had to rely on the locals to translate for us.  I'm old and slow so I wasn't able to run when the time came, but by the time I got through the gates and located the line for Louis' show, I was only about 50 people back.  The festival was INCREDIBLY well organized, clearing out each stage area after each performance so the people who had lined up for a specific artist could have a good chance of getting a good spot.  And thanks so their expertise in handling crowds, I was able to maintain my position in line without having to run and thus got a spot at barricade!  Thank you Ruisrock organizers and security *thumbs up*

I will mention that while waiting in line for 6 hours we were comfortable and there was a breeze and no rain.  We also got to listen to Blind Channel and Käärijä's shows which were pretty hard-hitting and all in Finnish - the best part about that was all the Finns surrounding us joining in to yell the lyrics and pogo along to their favorite songs.  The energy was amazing and I'm sure the other foreigners in line with me were appreciating the Finnish love of live music as I was.  Don't forget we also got the Oli walk-by which was funny because he acted as though he was just passing us to get to the food stalls, but then he came back a few minutes later with no food and acting just as nonchalantly, so clearly he was there to check us out and report back.  You go, Oli!  Be sure to tell Louis what in idiot he is if he thinks we're not going to show up.  Faith in the Fans, maybe?

Back to barricade: I had a spot right next to the staircase Louis would use to come off stage for Silver Tongues, and I took quite a few videos and photos although most of the songs are partial recordings and the pictures are basic iphone quality, but here's a link to all of my files in a Google folder.  Please enjoy!  Do with these as you wish :-)

Some observations I made while enjoying my 7th Louis show was that Joshua would run to a certain side of the stage, Louis would catch sight of him, and then he would head to that side of the stage... so it was almost like Joshua was calling the shots of where Louis should "pose."  It also clued me in to start recording whenever Joshua came to our side because I knew Louis would follow - I got some great shots of Louis looking our way which I choose to believe were him looking at ME ;-)  I also noticed that Steve would put a drumstick in his mouth to adjust something on his set mid-song, which I hadn't noticed before.  And of course Michael and Matt were always heading to the center stage to join Steve in "getting down" which was fun to see.  It would be great to see Louis playing the guitar and jamming with them, but then it would be harder for him to interact with the fans...

One of my favorite live show elements is the Baba O'Reilly mash up in WDBHG so I was very happy that Louis walked over and pointed my way when he sang it - so excited in fact, that my video suffered accordingly, but oh well.  I didn't get lucky with him coming to our side of the barricade but hopefully at some show in the future I will.  Faith in the Future!

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.  Love you guys -

[sunnysidevans]

Nothing Else Matters - J. Seresin

Summary: Together since Top Gun, you and Jake are called back to California and thrown head first into the past, its put into perspective for the two of you that nothing else mattered but the family the two of you built together.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Pilot!Reader + Ex!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Pilot!Reader. - Callsign: Joker

Warnings: 18+ , swearing, angst centeral, DAD JAKE DAD JAKE, some dad! rooster too, mean phoenix sry, soft jake & protective jakey, rooster is a lil bit of a jerk in a lil bit of this.

The California sun felt the same on your skin as your eyes closed, standing on the beach. The waves crashed as hard and as fast as your thoughts were moving. It had been almost four years since you stood on this beach.

This time it wasn’t just you.

“Momma?” you look down at the four year old beside you, who smiles up at you. “Can I go?” she points to the water with a smile. You nod with a smile matching hers, scooping her up and running towards the water. She laughs, holding onto you tightly as you set her feet in the water.

“It’s cold!” she giggles as you smile, watching her own smile grow as she continues into the water. “Stay where I can see you please” you say, hands on your hips, standing to your full height.

Being called to be a commander of a base was a big deal, something you were excited but scared of. You weren’t sure why they decided you were the right candidate to run Top Gun as well as the base but you were excited to see the pilots who came up in the same way you did.

“C’mon sweet girl” you smile, reaching a hand out to your daughter, who laughs and runs to meet your hand. Picking her up and placing her on your hip, grabbing both sets of your shoes as you walk towards the rental car. “Do you think I’ll see daddy?” she asks, her voice was soft. You frown, looking down at your daughter.

“I don’t know sweetheart, I will certainly keep an eye out for him” you squeeze sides as you set her in the car seat. She nods, falling back into the seat with a yawn. 

Within minutes she was asleep in the backseat, making you smile. You drove through Fightertown quietly. It was quiet for a Sunday night but you knew most pilots were on detachments or deployments.

The beach house you rented was down the road from the base for you to be close by. Smiling at the toddler in the back seat, who fell asleep instantly in the car ride. Parking outside of the home, you take in the saltiness that followed with the waves. You enjoyed the small breeze that came with the evening. Picking up the sleeping toddler slowly to not wake her, you walk inside the house, closing the door with your foot.

Gently laying her in bed, you tuck her in with her favorite stuffed animal and a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight honey” she yawns, nuzzling into her sheets. You close the door quietly behind you, sighing.

“God make this easy for me” you whisper to yourself with a heavy sigh. Tomorrow was a big day for you and for Evelyn. Making your way to the bedroom, flopping down face first on the made bed, you sigh.

The phone on the bedside table buzzes, pulling you from your thoughts. Sitting up, you lean over to pick it up, smiling. "Hi" you whisper falling back into the pillows. "Did you make it okay?" his voice is soft as you smile. "We did, we miss you already Cowboy" he smiles on the other line.

"I miss you already too, kiss my girl for me. I love you" chuckling softly, a smile permanetly on your lips. "I love you too" after bidding goodbye, you toss the phone back onto your nightstand.

‘This was for the best’ your brain is telling you, as you continue to fight the thoughts as if you knew your subconscious was right. It was for the best. 

You never thought you’d be dropping your four year old at a bar. Let alone the Hard Deck bar. Standing in uniform, pulling Evelyn from her car seat, you motion for her to run inside. “Is that who i think it is?!” You can hear Penny's voice and her smile.

“It's me, Aunt Pen!” Evelyn yells from her spot at the doorway, with a laugh. Following her inside, you smile at Ameilia who sat on the edge of the bar. You hired Amelia to watch Evelyn in between school and life and Penny would be helping her.

You kept in contact with the bar owner  after your time at Top Gun, she was family to you. She was more than excited to find out you made it back to California. “There’s my girl” she picks her up, spinning the four year old around in her arms as the two laugh.

“There’s my favorite Commander," she smirks, looking at you with a laugh. You roll your eyes, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much for doing this, it's just until school starts” you smile, kissing your daughter's head. She nods, “I don’t mind one bit, now shoo, you have a big day” she winks, kissing your cheek as you walk towards the door.

She sets Evelyn to the ground as she runs to Amelia’s awaiting arms. You smile, waving as the door shuts behind you.

The base was still as beautiful as it was four year ago. Knocking gently on the door, the two voices invite you in. Looking between the two men that sat infront of you, you stand straighter. “Admirals”  you smile at the two of them.

Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and Solomon “Warlock” Bates. “Welcome aboard, Joker” you grin, shaking both of their hands. “We are happy to have you here” Cyclone says with a smile. “I’m happy to be here, do we have recruits already?” you ask, looking through the notebook set in front of you. “We actually need your expertise on something” Warlock says, sitting beside you as he taps away on the tablet.

“We’ve called back twelve of Top Gun’s finest for a detachment that is quite dangerous” you nod, looking over the mission information. you look back at the two of them, "And you want my expertise?" Cyclone nods.

"We know your skill, which is why you are here". A knock at the door stops the conversation, the two of them looking at you then the door.

“Come in”. Beau sits at the head of the table, “Captain Mitchell '' you roll your eyes as internally as possible at the sound of Maverick’s name.

He makes his way into the office, smiling kindly at the three of you. “I will admit, I wasn't expecting to be called back here” he admits, looking between the three of you. “You have been called back at the reques to of Admiral Kazansky" Beau sits up in his seat. "You were not my first choice" he nods towards you, "she was".

Maverick looks at you then back at Cyclone. "But, I respect Iceman and he sees something in you" he looks at Warlock as Warlock nods, clearing his throat. "a uranium plant set to start operation in three weeks, we have been tasked to put together a strike team" Warlock says, pulling the diagram back on the board. You avoid eye contact with Maverick, looking through the notes given to you.

“I mean, I could definitely do it with a good team” Maverick says, looking back at the two admirals then back at the screen, “not in an f-18 though”. Beau chuckles, looking at him.

“You aren’t flying it, we want you to teach it, with Joker” he motions to you as you look up. Looking between the two men in front of you then back at Maverick and then back at the board.

Three faces screaming back at you. ”Let’s get started” Warlock stands, dismissing the two of you.

“Attention on Deck!” all the aviators stand as Warlock and Cyclone make their way into the building. “Be seated" he clears his throat "you are all top gun graduates, the elite" Warlock looks around the room, watching the faces of the aviators.

“A mission that some of you could not return from” he continues, looking back at Cyclone who nods.

“We have two very important people here to train you on this to bring you all home safely. Two of Top Gun’s greatest pilots" the group looks between the others, all with faced of confusion. "Well decorated with three confirmed air kills'' he moves aside as he grins. “I welcome your first instructor, Captain Pete Mitchell, call sign, Maverick” he moves from the podium as Maverick walks down the rows of seats.

“Good Morning” he nods at the group, eyes falling to Bradleys as he looks back over at Cyclone and Warlock. “Your other instructor, Commanding officer here at Top Gun and also well decorated" Jake sits in his seat, twirling the toothpick between his teeth.

"A Top Gun graduate also with two confirmed air to air kills" Jake pulls the toothpick from his teeth. He knew exactly who the other instructor was, a knowing smirk grows on his lips.

"I introduce you to Commander, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) callsign Joker” taking a deep breath, you follow the line of seats. You pull the aviators off your face and face the group of aviators.

Jake grins from his seat at the sight of you, Natasha does her best to hide her disgust, looking away. Bradley looks everywhere but you.

“I look forward to working with all of you” you nod, smiling at Maverick as you motion for him to begin. You move to stand beside Cyclone and Warlock. “The F-18 Natops” Maverick holds up the book with a nervous smile, "everything to know about your aircraft, i assume you all know it inside and out".

The group all pipe up, Jake still hasn't wiped the smirk off his lips, "damn straight". He looks straight at you. "So does the enemy" Maverick tosses the book into the trash beside him.

“The enemy knows your limits, I don't. Show me what you're made of, fifteen minutes and I want you all on the tarmac” he dismisses the group as the aviators file out slowly.

Walking to stand beside the two admirals, Warlock speaks first, “What do you think?”. Putting the aviators back over your eyes, you nod “I think we have quite the group, I'm familiar with a few of the pilots and their skill sets” Cyclone nods, looking at you. “Let’s see if Maverick can teach em” you smile walking out the door.

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls you aside, a squeal falling from your lips in surprise.

Looking up you are met with eyes as green as the forrest. “Hi cowboy” you smile at the man in front of you, who has his own smile. “Commanding officer?! Are you shitting me Jokes?” his smile was as bright as the sun, bring a smile to your own face. He pulls you into his arms, hugging you tighter.

Laughing, you wrap him in your arms. “Just took effect this morning cowboy, I wanted to suprise you” you mumble into his shoulder with a laugh. He pulls you to arms length with his own smile, hands moving to cup your cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, Commander” he grins with a laugh, it brings a blush to your cheeks.

“You brought Eve I assume?” nodding, you smile. “I need to see her,” you laugh, nodding. “Of course, I want you to see her" reaching over, squeezing his hand gently, you nod. “Go get ready, I want to see you fly cowboy” you grin, kissing his cheek as you walk down the hallway.

“Hey!” he yells after you with his own smirk. “I missed you” he winks as you laugh. “Missed you too Cowboy” walking to your office, you miss the looks of the other aviators.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin was the best person in your life. The one person who stood by you no matter what.

The cocky exterior left nothing to the soft man he was underneath for the people he loved. Jake was also the man who picked you back up when he found you in shambles.

“Joker?” Jake shuts the apartment door quietly, there was not a single light on, showing him it was likely one was home. You sigh from the bathroom floor, wiping your cheeks on the towel sat beside you. “Hey cowboy” your voice is hoarse from your hours of crying. He’s moving quickly at the sound of your voice, stopping in the doorway of your bathroom.

There you sat, a hoodie you borrowed from him with a pink stick in your hands. “Oh (Y/N)” he knew a pregnant woman when he saw one, living with his sisters and his mother from her pregnancies.

“It’s Roosters” you whimper, looking up at him, on the verge of more tears. “Please don’t be disappointed in me Jake” your voice shakes as he shakes his head quickly. He drops to his knees, scooping you into his arms as your body shakes with sobs. “I’m never gonna be disappointed in you” he whispers, kissing your hairline. “I’m gonna take care of you, both of you” he promises you, placing another kiss to your hairline.

Standing in the doorway of the squad room, you listen over the radio at the two teams in the sky. Payback,Fanboy and Rooster. “Working as a team, you have to shoot me down first, or else” Maverick says as Payback's voice is heard seconds later, “or else what?” he asks.

You roll your eyes slightly, listening as a fly on the wall. “I shoot back” you can hear the grin in Maverick’s voice. “I shoot either one of you down, you both lose” continuing to listen in, you don’t miss the sound of Jake’s voice.

“This guy needs a serious ego check” you scoff mostly to yourself, but he hears you, looking up at you with a smirk.

“How about we put some skin in the game?” Payback asks, “What did you have in mind?” payback chuckles, “whoever gets shot down first, has to do two hundred push-ups”.

The amount of testosterone in the room was suffocating as you listened. “That’s alot of push-ups” Rooster says, breaking his silence.

“You got yourself a deal gentleman, let's turn and burn”. The dog fight continues on silently. “That’s a kill” Maverick says, fanboy and Payback curses follow.

The fight is only on for about five more seconds before Maverick's voice cuts over the comms, “That’s a kill” Rooster is cursing on his own comms.

There’s a knock at the office door, furrowing your brows as you look at the time. Everyone should have gone home by now. “Come in” Maverick walks in, shutting the door behind him. You stand, “Maverick, this is a surprise” he nods, handing you a folder. “I want you to look this over, tell me your opinions” you take the folder, nodding slowly.

“Okay, I can do that," he nods, biting his lip before he turns to face you. “Sorry if this is over-stepping commander but is there going to be an issue with this?” he asks, looking at you. Looking up from the folder, you set it down on your desk with a shake of your head. “And why would it be?” you ask, hands on your hips. “I support these pilots, every last one of them” he nods slowly.

“I notice some tension in the room, I don't want this to jepordize this mission and these pilots due to personal reasons” he says, looking at you. You knew exactly which pilot he had in mind. “I do have a past with some of these pilots, but I am here to protect them and bring everyone home safely.” you say, watching his face.

"Sometimes water under the bridge should stay just that, under the bridge" he says, walking towards the door. "Thank you for the concern Captian. My personal relationships will not be a concern for this mission, go home and have a great evening" you dismiss him, watching as he crosses the room, shutting your door behind him.

The Hard Deck was still quiet for the early hours rush, skipping two steps at a time you push through the door. Evelyn being the only thing on your mind.

You don’t hear the whispers of the aviators sitting in the back of the bar as you walk in.  “So, who is Joker?” Fanboy asks, looking at the squad as everyone shrugs.

“She's a badass is who she is” Jake sits down beside him. “First woman with an air to air kill, let alone two” he smirks, sipping his beer. “Sounds like you're in love with her Hangman” Coyote smirks from his seat, knowing Hangman was indeed in love with you, the two of you in love with each other from the moment you met in Top Gun. 

The bar filled in with Top Gun candidates, the first night on base. Natasha Trace smiles at you from your left. “First drink is on me!” she grins, you were the only two women in this top gun class. “Well, what do we have here?” looking from Pheonix, you met the greenest eyes you think you’ve ever seen. “Hi Bagman” she mumbles, standing to her full height. “Phoenix” he nods, looking over his shoulder at you with his own smirk. “And this is?” he asks, he knew exactly who you were. You move in front of him, looking up at him. You smirk, holding out your hand.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you smirk as he shakes your outstretched hand. “Callsign Joker” he winks, kissing your knuckles. You furrow your brows, looking him over. “And how do you know that?” you ask as he grins, “first active duty woman with an air to air kill”.

You nod slowly, thinking back before it hits you. “Jake Seresin, Hangman, only active duty with an air to air kill” you smirk at the slow smirk that grows on his face. “My god” Phoenix rolls her eyes, walking away from the two of you. “I’d love to know how you got the call sign Joker” he sips his beer, eyes never leaving your face, “over dinner maybe?” you chuckle, taking your own beer from Penny.

“Earn it, Bagman” you wink, bumping his shoulder as you pass him. He watched the way your hips swayed even in the khaki’s that adorned your body.  

You smile as Ameila comes through the swinging doors, Evelyn in toe. “There’s my girl” you grin, crouching down to scoop the four year old in your arms. Jake’s ears perk up at the sound of her laughs. He knew that laugh. He looks over to watch the moment, setting his beer down and walking towards you.

Looking up you meet his eyes as he crosses the bar, you smile. “Eve, hey” you whisper to the girl who has her head buried in your shoulder. “Look who’s here” continuing to whisper, you smile as her head shoots up and eyes lighting up like stars.

Jake loved the girl on your hip as if she was his own, being her own father figure for the majority of her life.

“Jakey!” she squeals as she holds her arms out to him. His smile was brighter than the sun as he laughs, scooping her out of your arms and into his. “Hi babygirl” he laughs, kissing her face as she laughs, holding onto him tightly.

The squad watches on as Jake wraps an arm around your shoulder with a smile. “You two headin home?” he asks, looking between the two of you. Nodding, you smile up at him.

To anyone else it would look like a family reunion, and it was as Coyote knows that smile on your face. You were swooning for Jake Seresin. “We are” you smile “Let me grab my things, I will come with!” he grins, setting Evelyn to her feet. “Jakey!” she whines, taking his hand as he goes to walk away. “Alright, c’mon” he smiles, taking her hand as they walk back to the table.

“I’m heading out," he nods to the group, tossing money on the table to cover his tab. The table falls silent at the little girl hugging his leg. “Have a goodnight” he scoops her back up, putting her on his hip as she laughs.

The team watches as he wraps an arm around you, walking back out the doors. “Now, I know I'm just observing here," Bob speaks up from beside Fanboy, “That kid looked a lot like Rooster'' Payback finishes his scentence for him.

+

“So Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?” Hangman's voice over the comms was cool as always. You watch from the window as if you could see the three of them. “Would it matter if I did?” he asks, looking anywhere but Hangman. “What's the story with you and maverick?” you sigh, pinching your nose.

The tension in sessions was getting to the point everyone could see it. “Seems like he’s got you a bit rattled” he smirks behind his mask, checking his own surroundings. “That’s none of your business, now where is he?” Maverick’s voice kicks in seconds later as he moves from his position below Rooster to above him upside down,“been here the whole time”.

The dog fight then continues as you stand with hands on your hips, shaking your head. Grabbing your aviators, you push out of the room, making your way out to the tarmac. “Hondo!” you yell as he turns to face you with a grin. “Commander” he nods, looking at you with raised brows.

“Send Mitchell and Bradshaw to my office as soon as they land” he nods slowly, watching the way you showed almost no emotion. “You got it Joker” he says, walking towards the now landed jets.

“Are you two insane?!” you yell, looking between both men. “You both are so lucky it was me here and not Cyclone!” you point, looking at them. They stood like two wounded puppies. “You broke the hard deck and you both are letting this personal shit get in the way of why we are here!” you yell, hands on your hips. The conversation from days ago with Maverick nagging in the back of your head.

“I’m sorry ma'am," Maverick says, looking from Bradley to you. “I am grounding you for the next two days, I will be teaching” taking a deep breath, you look over at him. “I want your lesson plans in writing, the four of us will now be going over them every morning!” you seeth.

The two nod, “Dismissed!”. The office falls silent as you sigh, running your hands over your face.

The flight plans all began to run together as you shoved another folder aside. Maverick dropping off the last three days of lesson plans. You freeze at the sound of a knock on the door, looking up at the same time Bradley is opening the door.

“I was hoping you would still be here” he sighs, shutting the door behind him. You stand, “what is it?” you ask. “I don’t want this to be awkward,” he says, looking at you. “I’m talking to you as (Y/N) here, not Commander (Y/L/N)” he says.

“I know we haven’t really talked since that night and I’m sorry” crossing your arms, you nod. “It’s not awkward Bradley” you say, putting on a brave smile.

“Then why is everyone asking me if I have a kid?” he asks, looking at you.

“Something about a little girl who looks like me?” he asks. It felt like you just took the coldest shower your body could take, blood running cold. He looks down at the photo on your desk, picking it up. A framed photo of you and Evelyn.

 He notices the brown eyes first, it was his own eyes staring back at him. “Who is this?” he asks as you sigh. “That is my daughter Evelyn” you say, watching his face. “How old is she?” His voice is soft. “She is four” he looks up from the photo then, face hard with emotion.

“Joker, is this my daughter?” he’s got nothing but venom in his voice as you sigh, closing your eyes. “Answer me!” he yells, hands slamming on the desk. You jump slightly, looking at him.

Jake stops at the end of the hall, he can hear the rise of Rooster's voice. He also knew when he was leaving the locker room, Rooster was on his way to your office.

“Don’t raise your voice with me” Jake hears the unease in your voice as he approaches the office. “Is she?” he asks, ignoring the nag in the back of his head.

You notice Jake makes his way into the office, his shoulders back. “Rooster” his voice is stern. Bradley sighs, turning to face him, “this doesn’t concern you Hangman” Jake shakes his head, watching you.

“It does when it concerns my girls” he seeths, looking between you and Bradley.

“Oh for god sakes, Jake?!” Bradley looks at you, pointing to Hangman. “You don’t need to talk to me like that” you say, voice calm. “Jake and I have been together since Top Gun, he’s also been taking care of Evelyn” Jake moves to sit in your desk chair, sitting behind you like a guard dog. “Is she mine?” he asks again, hands on his hips, “yes”.

He sighs, eyes falling closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t tell me” he whispers as you nod, hands on your hips. “I told everyone I didn’t know who her father was, only he knows” you motion to jake behind you, who sits up in the chair.

“She’s four (Y/N), you didn’t think to tell me?!” he yells, Jake tenses behind you. “No, I didn’t because she has a father!” you yell back, letting out a deep breath. “This is bullshit” he tosses the framed photo on the desk, shaking his head.

“When did you find out?” he asks, voicesoft. “Remember the day after I had a birdstrike? You saw me in the hospital?” he nods slowly, “that evening you took me home, told me how badly you were afraid to lose me” he nods in realization.

“I get it” sighing, he closes his eyes. “I found out the night of graduation, Jake found me on the bathroom floor'' you look back at your boyfriend with a smile. “He vow’d to take care of us and he has” you sigh.

Bradley stands, “I can’t believe he’s been raising her” he points to Hangman, who stands. “Do not talk to her like that Bradshaw” he stands behind you, watching the way your shoulders tense.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Bradley asks, looking between you, “So you could have your perfect family with him? I knew you'd fall into his bed eventually” he looks back down at the photo in his hands. "Bradshaw, you choose your next words wisely" your voice was low, full of venom.

"I had sex with you if you hadn't noticed. I don't appreciate you calling me a whore while we discuss something like this" Jake's hand reaches out, resting on our hip as he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“I had every intention on telling you, I pulled you aside at the Hard Deck after I found out” he looks up at you with tears in his eyes, ��and I had my orders” he says. You nod slowly, watching his face. “You basically told me we had fun but your naval career was important, I was dating jake at that point. I was not there to reminise” you say.

"I came to tell you that you were going to be a father" Bradley looks away from the two of you.

Bradley stood in front of you, “What is it?” he asked, watching the look on your face. You knew the minute you asked him out here, there was more on his mind than what you had to say. The breeze from the ocean was cold. He paced, making both of your nerves on edge, “Just spit it out” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. He sighs, looking over at you, “I’m being sent out, they haven’t told me yet exactly but right now it’s looking like Italy '' you sigh.

“I’m not going to let a relationship hold me down half way across the world” looking up at him, your face went cold. “We both know that this would not last long” he says, cupping your cheeks. “I enjoyed every minute and maybe if fate would have it, I’ll be back” he smiles, kissing your forehead gently. 

His head spins, “I’d like to meet her,” he says. Jake rolls his eyes as he moves from behind you, “No”.

You both look back at him, his face was hard as stone. “You have no right” Bradley moves closer to him, chest to chest. “This is not about your ego’s” you sigh, moving between the two of them, “this is about Evelyn and what is best for her”. Bradley’s shoulders fall as he nods. “We can discuss that after the mission,I’m not getting her hopes up”.

He nods in understanding, watching you and Jake. “Now, if you are done insulting me, I would like to get home to my daughter” Jake grabs his bag from the door, pushing past Rooster with a bump of his shoulder.

“Go home, have a goodnight” you say, following Jake out the door with your things. He stands in the office, holding the framed photo in his hands.

He had a daughter who was the perfect mix of the two of you.

The car ride was silent. You couldn’t bring yourself to even turn on the radio. There were enough thoughts running through your brain. You managed to make it home before Jake, head falling to the steering wheel as you sit in the silence of your vehicle.

Closing your eyes, you don’t notice the headlights of his truck pulling into the driveway. Jumping, you look over at Jake’s face in your window with a small smile. You push the door open, grabbing your things and climb out, pushing the door closed.

“I’m sorry” he says, taking you by surprise. Turning to face him, you furrowyour brows. “Why are you sorry? you weren't the one to call me a whore when I fell into the bed of his nemesis" you ask as he sighs, walking to you.

He was still in his Khakis, his boots making him even taller than you. “I shouldn’t have butt in, I also don’t like the way Rooster spoke to you'' you nod slowly, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think we are all gonna be in this planning, you are her favorite person and-” you stop, closing your eyes to compose yourself. “And I can’t let her lose you but gain him. I also can’t have her meet him and lose him” you whisper. He nods, using your hand to pull you into his chest, resting his head on top of yours.

“We are going to figure this out, for Evelyn" he whispers, kissing the top of your head. “I love you” he whispers, you sigh into his chest, arms falling around him, “I love you cowboy”.

+

The sky was clear, blue. “Alright, you know the rules,” Maverick says. After his stunt with Rooster and being benched, the two of you were working together well. You smirk from your own plane, looking over at the group on the ground, sending them a salute and in seconds, you were in the sky.

“Phoenix, where is your wingman?” Maverick asks as the woman rolls her eyes, “probably looking at himself in a mirror”. You roll your own eyes, flying low. “Uh Phoenix, we’ve got another boagie on radar” Bob says nervously. You smirk, pulling the mask over your face. “Hangman, a little help please” Phoenix seeths.

“Don’t worry Phoenix, Hangman’s coming” Jake smirks, veering himself to fly just below the pair's right wing. She groans, looking over to notice Maverick, “let’s get this over with”. She sighs, veering off to the left and away from Hangman as Maverick makes his way to her. Veering to your right, avoiding the moutianside.

Slowly flying up on both Maverick, Phoenix and Bob. “Where’s your wingman?” you ask as they all are silent. “Joker?” you smirk as you move to fly to his right, “Suprise” you wink.

“Show me what you guys got” you smirk. “That’s a kill” Maverick mumbles, getting the lock on Phoenix and Bob. “Phoenix, how close am I?” You can hear Jake’s voice, a bit strained as the sun shined brightly. You smirk, coming up from behind him. “That’s a kill,” he groans. “See you on the ground” he can hear your smirk as you wink at him.

The opening of the canopy was refreshing as you pulled the helmet off your head, jumping down from the jet. “That is 200 pushups!” you point to Jake as he stands from his jet, a confused look on his face. “That’s not fair” he yells as you shrug walking past Maverick.

The sun was setting and the temperature was getting cooler. A day of trial runs and simulations. You walked to the Tarmac, stopping beside Hondo.

“What's he at?” you ask, watching as Jake grit his teeth through his push ups. “He’s at 130” you nod, dismissing Hondo as you watch your boyfriend. “Rooster wants to meet tonight” he stops, looking up at you with sweat dripping down his face. “What?” he pushes himself down and back up, looking away from you. “I said that it was okay but I told him not without you” mumblng, you pick at the hangnail on your thumb.

He grunts, looking back up at you. “Okay, of course I’ll be there” you smile, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Okay, keep up the good work hotstuff” he chuckles, counting quietly to himself.

Standing under the stream of cold water, you miss the presence of someone behind you. “So, I hear you are still messing with peoples feelings” you jump, peeking out the curtain at Phoenix, who stood with her arms crossed. “Excuse me?” Pinching your eyes closed, you wipe the soap off your face quickly.

“Bradley told me, the two of you have a child and you are refusing to let him see her” you roll your eyes, closing the curtain. “I am not refusing to let him see her, I am letting him get through this mission first” rinsing the last of the shampoo out of your face, you turn the shower off. “I knew you strung him along in Top Gun” you sigh, grabbing the towel, wrapping it around your body, stepping out to face her.

“I didn’t string him along, far from actually” she raises a brow. “And then you crawled right into Hangman's bed, you are similar from what I remember” her voice dripped with venom. Your face remains like stone, watching over her face, “and similar how?”.

She laughs, shaking her head, moving to size you up. “In the fact you care about yourselves and that is it, you don’t care about how your actions affect others, seems like a perfect match” You chuckle darkly, moving closer. "Just the way I remember you Joker, you don't care about anyone" she watches over your face closely.

“Watch the way you talk to me Trace, I am your superior and I won’t hesitate to take you off this detachment” you whisper, watching her face shift with a slight nervousness. “You wouldn't," she bites back as you shrug, walking past her.

“I wouldn’t underestimate me Phoenix, you should remember, I am a woman of my word" you stop at the doorway, turning to face her. “I also wouldn’t listen to the rumors you hear, but to clear it up” you move back to her, watching as she steps back from you.

“Bradley and I did have a fling here the first time and it was just that, a fling, something that happened one time, which yes conceived our daughter, but she’s my daughter” you stood face to face her moving closer into her face as you whisper.

“Jake Seresin is a man who picked up the pieces and stepped up when I needed him" she rolls her eyes with a scoff. You sigh, looking over her face, "You can think what you want about me and Jake, but you leave our daughter out of it" you whisper, shoving her shoulder and walking back into the locker room.

The Hard Deck was quiet for the most part at least at the secluded booth you and Jake hid in towards the back of the bar.

“Baby” Jake reaches over, his hand resting on your knee. “Calm down” he whispers, looking over your face with a reassuring smile. He squeezes your knee as you sigh. “I’m nervous,” you whisper, looking over his face.

He was the calm one out of the two of you. “I know” he whispers, pulling you into his side, arms wrapped around your frame.

You sigh heavily into his shoulder, eyes falling clsoed. You weren’t going to tell him about what happened in the locker room, knowing it would upset him more than this meeting would. A throat clearing pulls you from your thoughts, Rooster stands at the end of the booth, three beers in his hands.

“Sorry to interrupt” he says as you shake your head, motioning him to sit across from the two of you. “Don’t be” he nods, handing the two beers to you and jake. “Thanks” you sip it quickly, almost chugging as you sigh. “So, what would you like to discuss?” you ask as he sets his own beer down.

“I want to know about my daughter, I just- I want to know everything” you nod, looking at Jake as he sits back in the booth.

“Her name is Evelyn Carol (Y/L/N)” he nods, smiling, “I wanted her to have your mothers name somehow” he smiles wider. “Evelyn?” he asks as you smile, shrugging. “A name I heard once and fell in love with” he nods. “Her favorite color is orange” Jake says from beside you, smiling.

Rooster chuckles with a smile, “Orange?” he asks as you both shrug.

“I think it’s because she’s been around him too long” you motion to Jake beside you who sighs with a chuckle. “She’s an honorary Texan okay” he pulls his phone from his back pocket, sliding it over to Rooster. A photo of the three of you in Texan’s jerseys. “Cute” he smiles as Jake brings the phone back to his pocket. “Her birthday is in April” you smile at the thought of your daughter. 

The conversation continued to flow naturally. Rooster asking the questions he wanted to know about Evelyn as well as taking what you and Hangman had to say. “I will let you meet her after the mission” you say after a couple minutes of silence.

Both men turned to face you, furrowed brows. “I want you to fly this mission first, I want to bring you home safely first" you emphasize. "I don’t want to get her hopes up” you whisper, looking at the two of them.

“She will love you though I am sure” Bradley nods, sending you a smile. “Now” you lean over, kissing Jake’s cheek. “I am going home to my girl, you are welcome to stay” you nod to him, standing and sliding out of the booth. “I’ll come too babe, I gotta tuck her in” Jake smiles, following you. “Bye Rooster, see you tomorrow” he nods, smiling at the two of you as he loses the two of you in the crowd of people.

“I think that went well," he says in the silence of the car, looking at you. He notices the shift in your body as you look over at him. “Huh?” he repeats himself as you nod in agreement, “yes I do too”.

He furrows his brows, stopping at the red light, turning to face you. “What is it?” he asks as you sigh.

“the mission has been moved up, we have less than a week”. 

+

The bitterness of the ocean couldn’t cover your nervousness. The breeze from the ship as you stood on the deck. You wanted to get them in and out so you could go home to your daughter. “Joker” you look back at the sound of Warlock's voice, he nods.

“It’s time” you sigh, nodding and following him inside.

The room was seated all twelve aviators, all on the edge of their seats to see who would be picked. “Maverick, pick your two dagger teams” Cyclone stands beside Maverick at the front of the room. He looks around the room, sighing heavily.

“Phoenix and Bob and Payback and Fanboy” the set of four aviators look between the others with a sense of nervousness.

“And you wingman” Jake stood taller to give himself more appeal. “Rooster” Maverick sighs, looking at the rest of the group. “The rest of you will be here on the carrier for additional air support, let’s do this and bring you all home safely” the teams are dismissed, Maverick walking past you.

You stop him, grabbing his elbow as you sigh, “bring him home for his daughter Mav” you whisper, looking over his face as he nods slowly. “Of course,” he promises, walking out of the room.

Standing at the front of the room, you stand beside Warlock as he continues to go over the mission plans. “Lastly” he faces the group, “we want you brought home safely” he nods towards you as you walk to the front of the room.

“You all are exceptional pilots, I saw it in the time we’ve spent here and I know you will give them all you got. Get in, get out” you say, looking around the room as they all nod. 

“Dismissed” they all walk out of the room and onto the carrier to prepare for take off. You sigh as they all leave, closing your eyes. “Joker?” Cyclone makes his way to you, hand on your shoulder in support.

“I’m okay” you smile up at him, nodding. He nods slowly, “if it’s best I will send you home” he says, no threat behind his voice. “I know” you whisper, pulling the aviators over your eyes as you make way outside to the jets. Stopping at the door as you watch the two men stand in front of the other.

Jake looks at Bradley as the two of them are silent. “You give 'em hell” Jake yells over the sound of jets, “and come home, for Evelyn”.

Bradley nods, smiling at him slightly as they shake hands, walking off to their respective jets. “Bradley!” you yell, running to catch up to him, he turns to face you. “Good luck” you smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m coming home for her," he says, smiling at you.

Nodding, you look up at him, “she will be excited to meet you” he nods, climbing into his own jet. 

Standing beside Warlock and Cyclone, you listen to the fight over the comms, watching the maps. “Dagger one is hit I repeat!” Phoenix’s voice fills the room, looking over at the two men beside you, “we have to go back” rooster says. “That’s a death wish Rooster, he’s gone” Phoenix says as he grunts over his own comms.

“Sir, we’ve lost Rooster”the woman says, eyes falling to the screen.

“We’ve lost eyes on Rooster” Payback says with a heavy sigh. “Return to the carrier, there’s nothing we can do,” Cyclone says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dagger spare requesting additional air support” Jake says over the comms as Warlock shakes his head, “negative dagger spare”. The room falls silent as they continue to help the two additional daggers to the carrier.

“Si-” she stops at the notice of you, “Ma’am, we’ve got a signal from Rooster and Maverick, in an f-14..” she trailes off. You sigh, closing your eyes as you nod. “Okay, let them know” you push out of the room, closing your eyes tightly. “Joker! I am sending you out on the soonest chopper” Warlock yells from the room, you sigh.

“Okay!” you yell back as he’s standing in front of you. “It’s not personal” you shake your head, “I understand completely” he nods, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Boarding the chopper, you smile politely at the crew. You watch as the carrier gets smaller and smaller, your nerves even more on edge.

Jake was not on deck when you left.

+

The breeze flowed easily with the waves. Digging your feet in the sand, you watch as Evelyn runs towards the waves with cheers of glee. You smile to yourself, she was made for the ocean. California was doing her well. There was no news on the outcome of the Uranium mission, none you had the clearance to have. Jake or Bradley hadn’t  landed on your doorstep quite yet.

“I had a feeling you two would be here” you turn to look over your shoulder, Jake standing in a pair of jeans and a tshirt. “Oh my god” you run towards him, body colliding with him as he wraps you in his arms.

He pulls your body closer, burying his head into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Missed you," he mumbles, kissing just above your neckline. You smile, tangling your fingers in his hair, “missed you” you whisper against his hairline.

“Daddy!” Jake can feel your body tense, his own tensing as he looks up.

Evelyn is running full speed towards him. He moves to his knees, catching her as she collides with his chest. “Hi babygirl” he whispers, looking up at you.

“You okay?” the four year old asks, looking up at him. “Of course I’m okay, I’m okay now that I’m with you” he whispers to her, she smiles wider.

“Eve” she nods, looking between you and Jake. “Did you just call me daddy? You’ve never called me that” he notes as she shrugs. “You are my dad” she whispers, burying her head in his shoulder. You can see from your spot the tears in his eyes. “Of course I am sweetheart” he kisses the top of her head holding a hand out towards you.

Taking his outstretched hand he whispers, “I love you, both of you” he grins as she pulls away. He stands, watching as she takes off towards the water again with a laugh. “I-I can’t believe” you smile, cupping his cheek. He leans into your palm with a sad smile.

“I’m not her dad though, I just saved her dads ass" he whispers with a slight chuckle. You shake your head, gently caressing his skin with your thumb, “you are her dad Jake” he smiles sadly.

“You may not have conceived her but you are her dad, staying up with her when she got scared thinking something was in her closet to kissing her princess band aid when she fell off her bike and all she wanted in that moment was you, her dad.” reaching up, you cup both of his cheeks. he chuckles softly, kissing your palm.

“Bradley may be her father but it takes a man to step up and be a dad” he leans down, connecting your lips. His lips were softer than the bed sheets you slept on, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull your body closer. “I love you two so much” he mumbles against your lips, eyes falling closed.

“Nothing else matters, just us” he whispers in your hairline, watching as your daughter plays in the waves.

“Daddy c’mon!” Evelyn yells from the water, he laughs. “I’m comin babygirl” he kisses the top of your head, pulling the boots off his feet. Tossing his boots and socks aside, he runs towards the water towards the four year old as she continues to laugh loudly.

Standing in the sand, you close your eyes to take in the breeze from the ocean, memories flooding your brain.

“Are you insane?!” Jake yelled from his spot on the runway, watching as you walked away from him. “Joker!” he jogs to keep up with you, grabbing your arm. You rip your arm from his, looking up at him. “What?! Am I insane?!” you ask, looking over his face. “Yes! Obviously! I don't think, I just do and I couldn't let something happen to you!” he pants, looking over your face. “You can’t do that” he mumbles as you scoff.

“I’m so sorry that I was protecting my wingman” you throw it in his face, looking at him. “I can’t be responsible for your death, Joker!” he sighs as you begin to walk away from him. “I love you okay?” you stop in your spot.

You and Jake had started sleeping together on and off after your accident, hiding your true feelings behind lust.

“You are the most amazing pilot i’ve ever met and-and maybe I’m fucking shit up by telling you but I love you” he shrugs, panting. His chest felt like it was on fire. “You mean alot to me Jokes, alot, so you can’t pull shit like that” his voice is soft as he walks closer to you, cupping your cheek.

“Since I got here I've been protecting you,” you say, looking up at him. “I’m gonna keep protecting you, you are my wingman” he smiles, stroking your cheek. “I love you too” you mumble, looking up at him with a smile. 

 “C’mon momma” you smile, Jake's southern tongue slipping as he yells from the water. Opening your eyes, the sight meeting you melting your heart, Jake was knee deep in the water, your daughter on his hip. “Coming” you chuckle, jogging down to the water.

Nothing else mattered but your wingman and the little girl on his hip.

-

a/n: did anyone see this fic going where it did because i won't lie i didn't and I wrote it. LOL. I hope you all enjoyed this, if you would like to see more dad!jake/dad!bradley I would love to write more of these characters.

if you enjoyed this fic, you can find all my other fics in my library.

↓

here.

part two - part of me.

ps: let me know your thoughts, reblogs and comments are always welcome! <3.

[mamaestapa]

I love that idea!! What about one where you go on vacation with Joe and his family?

“Blurb night! What about one where joe takes you in vacay with his”

“Yay prompt night!! Could you do one where Joe and you go on vacay?!”

The Best Vacation Yet|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: You and Joe go on a beach vacation with his parents (i got a few asks for a vacation blurb, so i just combined them if that’s okay🤍)

•warnings: none, just fluff :)

"Joe!" his mom called from the top of the stairs outside of the beach rental, "can you grab these chairs please?” Joe unwrapped his arms from your waist and jogged down the stairs to help his mom load the beach chairs into the car.

The two of you were currently on vacation with Robin and Jimmy—Joes mom and dad. They invited you and Joe to join them on their vacation to Florida. Robin rented out a cute beach house not far from Clearwater Beach. It wasn’t too big of a place, but it was big enough for the four of you and perfect for a week long stay. You and Joe don’t go on vacation often, the only vacation you really go on during the off-season is to California when Joe works with his trainers. So it was nice to get away from Cincinnati and spend some time with his parents for a while.

You were helping Jimmy pack up the cooler in the kitchen while Joe and Robin packed up the beach chairs and umbrella into the rental SUV. As you grabbed water bottles from the fridge you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, causing you to jump. You turned around, smiling as you saw your boyfriend behind you. “Hi Joey.”

“Hey baby,” he greeted with a smile, “you ready to go?” You shut the fridge door and put the waters into the cooler next to you. “Yep,” you said with a smile, “let me get my sandals then we can head out.” Joe nodded and moved to the side so you could step out of the kitchen and put your shoes on. As you slid on your sandals with ease, you couldn’t help but laugh in amusement as you watched Joe slide his socks on over his feet. Joe glanced up at you, rolling his eyes. “Quit.”

“You look so silly, Joe. Who wears socks and tennis shoes to the beach?”

Robin walked out of the bathroom and shook her head, “My son.” The three of you just laughed.

Jimmy wheeled the cooler out of the kitchen as you, Joe, and Robin stood around and waited for Jimmy to grab his hat and slide his shoes on. Once everyone was ready, the four of you left and the house and went down to car to drive to the beach. You and Joe sat in the backseat, holding hands all the way to the beach, just like his parents did in the front. The ride to the beach was short, less than five minutes. Once you arrived at the beach, the four of you got out of the SUV and each grabbed something out of the back to carry. You took your sandals off and walked through the sand, enjoying the feeling of the warm sand beneath your feet. Joe glanced down at your feet and cringed as he watched the golden sand cover your manicured toes. You chuckled, looking at your boyfriend as you said, “I’m sorry Mr. ‘socks on the beach’, I actually enjoy the sand.” Joe just shook his head at your teasing as you continued to walk through the beach. Once you got closer to the water, the four of you set your things down and started to set up for your beach day. You helped Robin set out the chairs as Jimmy and Joe put up the beach umbrella. As you were helping Robin set up the chairs, the two of you engaged in conversation about Joe.

“I can’t believe he wears socks to the beach.” Robin laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at Joe’s socked covered feet. You nodded in agreement, laughing as you said, “I know, I tease him about it all the time.”

You looked over at Joe, your eyes full of love as you said in a genuine tone, “He’s lucky I love him so much.” Robin stood up straight, a genuine smile on her face as she said, “He loves you too, Y/n. You two are perfect for each other.”

Robin was so sweet, so was Jimmy. You always loved Joe’s parents.

“Thank you Robin, he makes me really happy.”

Robin smiled, “You make him happy too sweetie. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him whenever he’s with you.”

Your heart swelled, filling with a whole lot of love as you listened to her words. It was true, you made Joe the happiest he’s been in a long time.

After you finished setting up, you and Joe played catch with the football he brought. The two of you played for about an hour, you and Joe erupting into bouts of laughter every time you couldn’t throw the ball well or he couldn’t catch a pass. He tried giving you pointers and helped you with your form, but it never worked as his lessons always ended in the two of you laughing. After your fun game of catch, you and Joe took a lunch break, enjoying sandwiches and chips with Joe’s parents. The four of you spent the rest of the afternoon laying out on the sand and soaking up the warm Florida suns rays. It was a relaxing day that you, and Joe especially, needed.

As the evening creeped up, you and Joe decided to take a walk along the beach. You were able to convince Joe to finally take his socks off, but you couldn’t get him to walk in the water with you. But that was fine with you because you were just happy to see him have his socks off. You and Joe held hands as you walked along the beach. No words were shared between the two of you as you enjoyed the peaceful walk with the beautiful water and sunset in the distance. Joe’s parents were walking behind the two of you, wide grins on their faces as they watched you and their son walk along the beach.

“Aren’t they so sweet?” Robin asked, glancing up at her husband. Jimmy nodded, a smile on his face as he said, “They remind me of us about twenty years ago.” Robin chuckled, agreeing with her husband. She squeezed his hand as she said, “Did he show you the ring?”

“He did. She’s going to love it.”

“She is.” Robin nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she noticed you and Joe had finally stopped walking. The moment She, Jimmy, and especially Joe, have been waiting for has finally arrived. You were about to finally become a member of the Burrow family.

For as long as you’ve been dating Joe, this was by far the best vacation you’ve taken together.

hey loves!!

i had gotten a few requests for a vacation with joe, so i just combined them to make this one. i did get a bit carried away with this one lol. also i’m sorry for the rushed ending, i wasn’t sure how to end it so i just left it like that

i hope you’re all enjoying blurb night so far! more coming soon🤍

[hangmansgbaby]

Hi! Can I req a oneshot where r is tony Starks daughter and is a military fighter pilot in honor of her uncle Rhodey (just went navy not Air Force in order to establish herself as her own person) and she’s like dating/married to/engaged to/etc Bradley Bradshaw and her dad shows up to surprise her at one point and he and rooster had always gotten along great once past the initial dont-hurt-my-daughter-I-don’t-trust-you-with-her stage and so they like “gang up” on reader but only in as much as it’s fun (like they don’t do too much) but it’s just sweet fluff with dad Tony and SO rooster and dad in law tony just 🫠🥹 anyways sorry to bother if u don’t want it! Love all u do <3

A Stark in the Wind

Summary: Y/n "Stark" Bradshaw was part of the top 1% of Naval aviators. When Y/n gets called back to Top Gun alongside her husband, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, her father decides to make the trip to California. While he’s expecting a nice dinner on his last night in town, something else comes into play.

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Wife!Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!Readers

Warnings: none?(Let me know if I should add any)

Note: I TOTALLY strayed from the request with Tony and Bradley messing with reader but its still so cute and has such cute father/son in law moments that I think it’ll do.

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

“Why do I always agree to road trips in the Bronco?” Y/n sighs, stretching as she hopped out of her husband’s truck.

“Because you love me?” Bradley chuckles, shutting the door before pulling y/n close. “Besides, you really wanna fly here and then get a rental car?”

“We could’ve taken my car, at least we wouldn’t have been broken down on the side of the road for 6 hours.”

“You weren’t complaining those six hours,” Bradley mumbles into a kiss, pinning her against the side of the truck.

“Babe, if you don’t stop were never going in.”

“Maybe that’s my plan.” Bradley wiggles his brows making y/n laugh.

“I’m going inside Bradshaw.” She pushes him back, walking aged into the Hard Deck. Bradley groans before jogging after her, opening the door before y/n can grab it.

“My lady.” He bows slightly, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Still not happening, handsome.” She taps his face before walking into the bar, her husband close behind.

“Bradshaws! That you guys?” Y/n smiles at the voice of her best friend, dragging her husband over to the pool tables. She immediately pulls Phoenix into a tight hug. “This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

“Yeah, just thought we’d surprise you.” Bradley chuckles.

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks.” Y/n jogs up to the bar, drumming a little when Penny turns around. “Hey Pen, one beer and a water please.” Y/n smiles.

“Hey, when did you newlyweds get back? Haven’t seen you two since the wedding.”

“Bradley go stationed in Virginia and I got pulled into a pretty big mess in New York before heading down there. Been a super busy year.” Y/n sighs taking a sip of her drink.

“Now I know I raised to better than to drink beer.” A voice calls out from behind her.

“Dad?! Hey!” Y/n abandons the drinks and wraps her dad in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking up on my favorite aviators, and helping the Navy with a few upgrades.”

“Of course.” Y/n laughs. “How's Pepper and little Morgan?”

“They’re great!”

“And how are you?” Y/n asks.

“Good, good. I’m doing a lot better.” Y/n had gotten lucky with the blip. Bradley and all her friends were still around afterwards but she had lost so much family at the same time.

“Its okay to not be okay. I miss him too.” Him, Peter Parker. He was like a little brother to y/n, called her at least twice a week for help on his science homework, especially when they talked about aerodynamics.

“Where’s that boy toy of yours? Chicken?”

“Rooster, dad. He’s over by the pool tables.” Y/n leads her father, drinks in hand, to the group.

“B, look who I found.” Y/n smiles handing Bradley his drink.

“Mr. Stark, how are you sir?” Bradley greets, shaking his hand.

“I thought I told you to call me Tony.” He greets his son-in-law. “Who are your friends?”

“Holy shit! You’re Tony Stark! The Tony Stark!”

“That’s Lieutenant Garcia, callsign Fanboy. Lieutenant Trace, callsign Phoenix. And Lieutenant Fitch, callsign Payback. And that's Lieutenant Floyd, aka Bob. ”

“Please to meet you sir.” Phoenix greets.

“Big fan.” Payback smiles.

“Those two over there are lieutenants Machado and Seresin, Coyote and Hangman.” Bradley introduces.

“You must be the one my daughter tells me about?” Tony questions, nodding towards Hangman.

“Awe you talk about me Stark?” Hangman plays shocked, a hand on his chest.

“Wish it was good things don’t ya?” Y/n chuckles. “Guys this my dad.”

“No way!” Fanboy shrieks.

“You’re dad is Iron Man?”

“Dude, how are you still alive?” Hangman and Coyote joke towards Bradley.

“As much as I would love to stay and chat, duty calls.” Tony nods to everyone before turning to his daughter. “Sweetheart.” He hugs her. “I’ll see you later, Bradshaw.”

“Good to see you too, sir.”

“Dinner at my place, Saturday. Don’t be late.” Tony points walking towards the exit.

Y/n nods before turning back towards her friends to their faces in shock. “Alright, ask away!”

Saturday night

“Hey! There’s my two favorite aviators!” Tony calls out as y/n and Bradley walk into the quaint beech house.

“Hi dad.”

“We brought wine.” Bradley smiles, setting the bottle down on the kitchen counter.

“Tony have you seen my-“ pepper round the corner from the hallway to see y/n and Bradley. “Oh my god hi!”

Y/n quickly pulls her step-mom into a tight hug. “As much as I love you, Pepper. Where’s the baby?” Y/n hears Morgan’s coos come from the living room and she immediately takes off towards it.

“She’s getting baby fever.” Tony points out to Bradley.

“No, she’s just excited to see her little sister, she was an only child for 30 years.” Bradley jabs back.

“I’m just saying. She might want them now.”

“She loves flying too much right now. Told her we’d wait until she was ready to hang up her wings.” Bradley sighs. “Its what she wants.”

“I think what she wants is for you to be happy and to have a family with you.” Pepper nods towards the living room. They look over to couch to see y/n making silly faces a Morgan, making the 6 month old baby giggle.

“I’m ready. I have been since the day I met her. But having kids means she gives up flying for 10 months and then there is no guarantee that she’ll go back. I can’t ask her to give that up just because I want a couple of kids.” Bradley explains, turning towards his father-in-law who was working over the food on the stove.

“Ya know, that statement right there is why I’m glad you married my daughter. You remind me nothing of myself, which makes you perfect.” Tony smiles, plating the food for everyone.

“Thanks Tony.” Bradley smiles. “Let me help get these to the table.”

It was silent around the dinner table. Everyone ate in silence while y/n picked at her food.

“Y/n? You okay?” Pepper asks, the first to mention her strange behavior.

“Yea, I’m okay.”

“You sure? You’ve been off since we got here.” Bradley notes.

“I-“ y/n sighs. “I have an announcement.” She says, standing from the table. “I won’t be flying. Actually, I can’t fly the mission.” Bradley stares at her dumbfounded, eyes begging her to continue. “I uh… I wanted to tell you before but I was too nervous and ai know we said we would wait but…”

“Spit it out already.” Tony groans, still eating.

“I’m pregnant.”

Everyone froze, forks dropping to their plates in surprise.

“You’re serious?” Bradley questions.

“Yea, found out right before we left.” Y/n nods softly. She can’t read Bradley’s face, unsure if he was happy or not.

“Holy shit.” Bradley mutters, leaning back.

“You okay there big guy?” Tony questions.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” Bradley asks, looking at at his father in law.

“Yea, Bradley. You’re gonna be a dad.” Tony smiles. “I’m gonna be a grandfather.”

“Holy shit!” Bradley cheers.

“Language!” Pepper chimes.

“Oh my god! You’re pregnant!” Y/n watches his eyes light up at the thought. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

“Yea.” Y/n nods excitedly. “Yea we are.”

“I love you, so much.” Bradley mutters, standing to give y/n a kiss.

“I love you too.” Y/n smiles, holding Bradley close.

“Congratulations!” Pepper cheers.

“Congratulations son!” Tony smiles, pulling Bradley into a tight hug. “Your parents would be proud of you.”

“Thank you Tony. Seriously, I appreciate you.”

[brehaaorgana]

THIS WEEK, IN "MY ALCOHOLIC DAD DIED,":

I am really glad that I know just enough about how estate handling works to be dangerous.

While we did our best with cleaning the apartment, and I left my contact info as next-of-kin when I returned the apartment keys, the rental management company reached out to my Aunt in order to let her know they'd identified bio-material (ew) and will need to hire professional cleaners.

This is part of the email they sent:

At this time, bio-material has been identified in the unit. As this is the case, we will need to have the unit treated by a specialty team to complete. Once the service is complete, we can send you the final statement. As this service is costly, we are requesting quotes from multiple company to provide you the best end price. I wanted to make sure you all are aware where we are currently with his account. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns I can help with.

Now, my dear followers, have you spotted the bullshit that even a specialty team couldn't treat?

I'll lay it out!

Once the company was advised that I am legally next of kin, they have no business emailing anyone else but me! I signed return keys paperwork in person, in their office, by writing "on behalf of the estate of (my dad's name)" then my name and then following it with "(Next of Kin, Acting Executor)." I probably didn't need to do any of that but I won't be caught signing anything that even remotely looks like I am taking personal legal liability lmfao. I provided my address and contact info as the next of kin. They demanded seeing MY legal id in order to let me into the apartment. Failure to update best contact info is a bad look.

"this service is costly," neat! You can start by applying his security deposit and making a claim with renters insurance if he notified you of any. You should file that claim before his rental insurance finds out he's dead. You cannot tell me your fucking expensive apartment didn't have a hefty security deposit.

"in order to give you the best end price" oh, really? Gee THAAAANKSS that's SOoOoOoOoo THOUGHTFUL!!! 🙄 This is a bullshit thing to say. You don't need to give me options lol. You should be choosing the most affordable option because —

Sweethearts, your final statement isn't being paid by ME. It's being paid by my father's estate. You are making the gamble there's any money in it. I'm not legally liable to pay any of my father's debts, including your final apartment bill. The liability is with the estate. You can choose the most expensive option and if the estate has no money, then you're the one left with the bill.

Basically what a stupid email to send. You should choose whatever price you're willing to lose entirely in case the estate is insolvent. Get in line with all his credit cards, this dude didn't own property, or his car, and declared bankruptcy at least once lmfao.

probate court will take months, my father was probably broke, and unluckily for you I EAGERLY look forwards to my dad's broke ass screwing over a greedy California landlord. ✌🏻

And I know I don't have to pay a single red cent from life insurance payout if I get anything.

[qveerthe0ry]

Little post about how my travels went last week if anyone’s interested!

So I went to California for my friends’ wedding and it was SUPER busy but really fun! Friday we flew out to San Francisco and checked in to a hotel in Chinatown. We explored the area, got some food and drinks, and had big sleepover vibes.

Saturday we went to the San Francisco Giants game (which was also pride day.) The Giants lost but we still had a blast and enjoyed the views from Oracle Park.

Sunday we got breakfast and hung out around the street market and then checked out of our hotel, then went to see the Full House house and the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was gorgeous, and our rental car had a huge moonroof, which made for OPTIMAL viewing as we drove over the bridge 😍

That same day we drove down to San Jose to catch an NWSL game. It was my first every soccer game and super fun!! The views from the stadium were also gorgeous.

Monday was a heavy driving day as we had to get to Santa Barbara for the wedding. We stopped halfway at Pismo Beach. I LOVE the beach, and had never seen the Pacific Ocean. The fact that you can see the beach and the mountains at the same time really blew my mind, so so beautiful.

Tuesday was wedding day! It was a quick ceremony at the gorgeous courthouse in Santa Barbara, with a great reception dinner and a lot of partying in celebration. We even stopped to dip our toes in the water on the way home and admire the sunset.

Yesterday I travelled home, a 3 hour train ride from Santa Barbara to LA, an Uber from the train station to LAX, and then a flight home. Needless to say I am EXHAUSTED, but the train ride was something I was dreading but actually really enjoyed. The views of the coast were awesome, I’m very happy I got to experience it :)

And now I’m back home, slowly unpacking and doing laundry and trying to recover 😅 I had a really great time catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in a while and meeting new people and celebrating my best friends’ love and seeing their families all come together as one. It was really sweet and I cried a lot but happy tears 🥲

I’m taking a couple days to recover and then I will be back on my bullshit!!! Love y’all and missed y’all 💕♥️

[fcble]

FREEZE FRAME — A series of timestamps taking place over the first leg of Fable’s second world tour.

SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 2:49 PM KST — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA)

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17, 10:02 AM PDT — JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK (JOSHUA TREE, CALIFORNIA)

“This is it?” Mingeun asks.

Byeonghwi is inclined to agree with him. They’ve been on the road for almost three hours, having left the comfort of their Los Angeles hotel early in the morning. If not for the sudden loss of buildings in the little town they passed through fifteen minutes ago, he’d swear they weren’t moving. 

“Isn’t it fun?” Andrew asks from the driver’s seat. 

Byeonghwi, stuck in the middle seat of the back row, leans over Haksu to look out the window. As far as he can tell, they came here to look at rocks, sand, some scraggly plants, some more rocks, and surprisingly, a lot of other people and cars. 

“It’s the great American outdoors,” Andrew continues, rolling down all four windows of their rental car. Haksu immediately rolls his back up. 

“It’s just rocks,” Mingeun says, raising his voice over the wind whipping through the windows. 

“And sand,” Byeonghwi adds.

In the passenger seat, Intak reaches toward the center console and skips the next song.

“I like that song,” Haksu complains.

“That’s the third ballad in a row,” Intak says. “It’s putting me to sleep.”

Mingeun fiddles with a small video camera. Byeonghwi wouldn’t put it past him to “accidentally” drop it out of the window. He wishes they could have a vacation without the cameras. He could go anywhere on his own, or with normal people who aren't celebrities, but his closest friends are the rest of Fable. The smallest saving grace is that this time, there's no camera crew. It's just the five of them—Andrew had insisted on driving and told Daewoong in no uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed to come and besides, they wouldn't all fit in the car—and Mingeun’s camera and Haksu's playlist and the great American outdoors.

“Let’s play a game,” Mingeun says, setting up the camera to point to the rather monotonous landscape. “I spy something beige.”

“Is it that rock?” Haksu asks, pointing out the window.

“It was that one that we just passed.” Mingeun points vaguely to the back of the car.

“This is fun,” Andrew repeats, though it seems like it's only fun to him. 

Byeonghwi starts to feel a little bad for him. When he heard they had an extra day of vacation in LA, he thought they might go to Disneyland. He’s always wanted to go to Disneyland. Then Daewoong and Andrew disappeared somewhere last night after their concert, and returned with a car. Byeonghwi woke up to Andrew’s alarm and a Toyota key fob on the nightstand.

“I think it’s fun,” he ventures. It isn’t the full truth, but it isn’t a lie either. It’s fun to spend time with the people he likes, even if they’re stuck in a car all day, because they can’t risk getting lost in the desert one stop into their world tour.

“Thanks, Hwi.” In the rearview mirror, Andrew’s expression is inscrutable behind his sunglasses. 

Intak skips the next two songs on Haksu’s playlist.

Haksu crosses his arms, elbow poking uncomfortably into Byeonghwi’s side. “I don’t understand why we’re listening to my music if you’re just going to skip every song.”

“Intak-hyung can’t have the aux. He’ll make us listen to SoundCloud rap,” Mingeun complains.

“Which is better than lofi beats to chill and fall asleep to,” Intak says.

Byeonghwi always finds it amusing that a group of singers can’t come to a consensus on music to listen to.

Andrew interrupts over both of them, launching into what Byeonghwi takes to be his best argument-defusing method of too many facts. “Did you know this park is around our ages? It was established in 1994.” He sounds like he memorized that from somewhere. “The national park system as a whole owes much of its success to President Teddy Roosevelt. He died for our sins. That’s why we put him on Mount Rushmore.”

“That was Jesus,” Haksu mutters.

But Byeonghwi sees the flash of Andrew’s grin in the mirror, and he knows he said that on purpose. His phone vibrates in his lap, and Byeonghwi unlocks it to see a new group chat consisting of himself, Mingeun, and Haksu. There’s only one message from Mingeun, which reads, if i act like this in canada, push me into the waterfall.

Got it 🫡, Haksu sends back, and Byeonghwi starts to think that maybe looking at a bunch of rocks might be better than Disneyland.

FRIDAY, APRIL 19, 8:29 AM CDT — CIVIL GOAT (AUSTIN, TEXAS)

Andrew probably doesn’t have to be working all the time. Technically, he’s working because Fable is on tour, but in the early hours of the morning, he has no obligations other than the ones he sets himself. He doesn't have to wake up early in the morning and drag Daewoong out to a coffee shop with him so he can do real work. He does it anyway.

His current project isn't anything related to Fable, but a simple review and some feedback for the debut mini album of Zenith Entertainment’s next idol group. Their main songwriter is a fresh-faced, barely twenty-year-old Korean American who asked Andrew for a Gmail address so he could share his music over Google Drive. Andrew felt practically geriatric next to him, like he should be checking into a retirement home soon. Apparently kids these days don't burn demo CDs, which works out for Andrew, because his laptop doesn't have a CD player.

He's just getting into the rhythm of his review of the proposed title track when his thoughts are interrupted by a girl standing much too close to his table, asking, “Can I have your autograph?”

He registers the question first, her WHEN TIGERS USED TO SMOKE: THE FIRST WORLD TOUR sweatshirt next, and her UT Austin lanyard third. A fan, then. “Of course.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Daewoong start to stand across the room. Andrew waves him back down into his chair.

She drops her bag into the seat across from him and rips a page out of a notebook.

Andrew closes his laptop and picks up her proffered gel pen. “What's your name?”

“Hanna. H-A-N-N-A.”

He signs a piece of college-ruled folder paper, scrawling out a simple “thank you for supporting Fable” message alongside his dusty stage name, Yejun, in messy cursive. 

Hanna beams anyway, tucking it away into a folder. “I'll frame it.” It doesn't sound like she's joking.

She busies herself with tucking away her new autograph, but she seems to be lingering, as if she's indecisive about something.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Andrew says, even though he knows he shouldn't. 

“You don't have to,” Hanna says quickly. “I don't want to bother you. I have to go to class.”

“You aren't bothering me.” Andrew lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell my manager. I'll put it on the company card.”

She smiles at that, and lets Andrew accompany her to the counter.

Andrew's phone buzzes as they wait. He picks it up long enough to read over half a warning message from Daewoong, before dismissing the notification. If Daewoong genuinely means it, he can walk over and demand Andrew leave. Until then, Andrew plans on ignoring him. It's ridiculous that he needs supervision.

Hanna clutches her latte with both hands. It doesn’t look like she’s going to drink it—probably because Andrew bought it for her.

“Thank you so much for the drink,” she says. She takes a deep breath. “I know you probably hear this a lot and it definitely sounds cheesy but I just wanted to tell you that your music has really inspired me. I'm learning how to play the piri because of you. It makes me feel like less of a fraud.”

That’s a feeling Andrew knows all too well. He wishes he wasn’t so intimately acquainted with it. He thinks he should have gotten over it by now, but he hasn’t. He imagines it’ll plague him for his entire life. But none of that is anything he can say in front of a fan, because he’s the idol, and he’s supposed to have his shit together. 

“I’m glad,” he says instead. Every follow-up line he can think of feels hollow and forced, like he memorized it from the playbook of Shit Idols Are Supposed to Say, which he did. “I'm glad I could be someone worth looking up to.” And someone I never thought I needed or wanted when I was younger, Andrew adds silently to himself.

The starstruck expression on Hanna’s face has yet to waver. “I'm really excited for your concert tonight.”

“I'll see you there,” he says, cheesy as it is, because he did read the playbook of Shit Idols Are Supposed to Say. Haksu would be proud.

He watches her pick up her backpack again, putting her drink down for the shortest few seconds. The coffee shop's door swings shut behind her.

And Andrew feels a little better, because it means he’s doing something right. He’s done some good in the world. Then Daewoong strides over to his table, and says, in what might be the coldest tone he’s ever heard, “We're leaving.”

Andrew is getting better at picking his battles, so he packs up his laptop without a complaint. Taein’s new group will have to wait.

MONDAY, APRIL 21, 1:23 AM EDT — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK)

MONDAY, APRIL 22, 12:49 PM EDT — HORSESHOE FALLS (NIAGARA FALLS, ONTARIO)

So far, Mingeun thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at keeping his cool. It’s easy, because he doesn’t have the same boundless enthusiasm for Canada that Andrew has for America. It looks like he won’t need Haksu to push him over the edge after all. It’d be difficult, anyway, because the guard rail is almost as tall as him, and he’d hit the rocks bordering the falls before the water.

He watches Andrew flip through a glossy pamphlet, oversized sunglasses covering most of his face. Mingeun can sense the way he’s going to share something he just learned, so he excuses himself, leaving Intak to suffer alone. He joins Byeonghwi and Haksu at the rail instead. Byeonghwi is taking everything in with the same wide-eyed innocence he had in every previous city. Haksu is trying to take a selfie without all the crowds in the background. He keeps repositioning himself, holding his phone up, posing, and then frowning at his screen. Mingeun watches him struggle a few times before he intervenes.

“Give me that, hyung,” he says, holding his hand out for Haksu’s phone.

Haksu gives it up without complaint. “You have to get my good side.”

Mingeun rolls his eyes. “Every side is your good side.”

“I know. I was making sure you knew it too.”

Mingeun stands back and makes sure part of his finger is over the camera lens in a few of the pictures. It won’t make Haksu any less cocky or more humble, but it amuses Mingeun. He hands the phone back to Haksu, watching closely for his reaction.

“For an idol, you’re really bad at taking pictures,” Haksu says. “What’s this?”

Mingeun peers over his shoulder at a picture of shapeless pink blob with the barest hint of the waterfall in the background. “You,” he says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

“That’s not what I look like!” Haksu squawks.

Mingeun takes a step back and pretends to consider him. “I don’t know. I see a resemblance. What do you think, Hwi?” He tugs at Byeonghwi’s shoulder and shoots him one of his characteristic death glares with the silent message to play along. Byeonghwi can be a bit of a killjoy sometimes, and that's not what Mingeun wants right now.

To his relief, Byeonghwi seems to get it. He shades Haksu's phone screen with his hand, looking intently at the picture. “I think Mingeun-hyung is right.”

Haksu pouts, sticking out his bottom lip so far it almost looks like he might cry. “You're both terrible.”

“I know,” Mingeun says, content with his antics. Haksu makes a good victim because he always bounces back. In a few hours, he'll recover perfectly fine and tweet the good pictures of himself. Mingeun doesn't doubt it.

THURSDAY, APRIL 25, 10:33 PM BST — HILTON LONDON BANKSIDE (LONDON, ENGLAND)

“We have a special guest with us tonight,” Mingeun says. He flips his phone around so that its screen is visible to their live broadcast camera. The remnants of their room service dinner peek into the bottom of the frame, phone and plates resting on the same hotel room desk, but Mingeun either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Byeonghwi pushes his plate out of view.

“Hello, everyone.” On screen, Eunsu waves with both hands. He’s silhouetted by what appears to be his bed, plain blue covers draping almost to the floor. Byeonghwi reaches over Mingeun and increases the phone’s volume. “It’s been a long time.”

Eunsu always says the same thing every time he’s in a setting like this. This time around, Byeonghwi has to admit it’s accurate. He can’t remember the last time they’ve done anything like this. Eunsu commenting on Mingeun’s Instagram posts doesn’t count. 

“If you don’t know me,” Eunsu says, “I used to be Fable's lead rapper. Now I'm a normal citizen and Mingeun's best friend.”

Byeonghwi doesn't think there are any other idol groups with such a public relationship with their former members. But Eunsu left on good terms, and he never wanted to leave, so Byeonghwi thinks they're different.

“What’s the topic for your live?” Eunsu asks.

Mingeun shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t pick one. You can decide.”

“One butt or two butts,” Eunsu suggests, but Mingeun dismisses him almost immediately.

“Old news. What about whether or not you should be able to sing if you want to be an idol?”

Byeonghwi shoots Mingeun a wide-eyed, worried glance. He resists the urge to turn around and check how Daewoong, sprawled out on a mountain of pillows on one of the king-sized beds, out of sight but within earshot, is reacting to Mingeun's proposal. It's more topical, sure, but he doesn't want to cause controversy.

“I’m joking,” Mingeun says. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “There isn’t anything to discuss.”

“Five Mingeuns or five-year-old Mingeun,” Eunsu proposes, changing the subject with the speed and alacrity of someone well-accustomed to Mingeun.

That’s an old debate too, but this time, Mingeun has a different complaint. “Why is it always me?”

“Haksu-hyung,” Byeonghwi suggests, and watches Mingeun’s expression light up.

“Let’s all answer at the same time,” Mingeun says. “One, two, three.”

“Five-year-old Haksu-hyung,” Byeonghwi says at the exact same time as Mingeun. Eunsu follows with the same answer a second later, delayed by the slight lag of FaceTime.

Byeonghwi could have predicted that. Five Haksus would be unbearable, and everyone else present knows that too.

“That’s what I thought,” Eunsu says, sounding almost sad. “Is there anyone you would pick five of? Present company, for me.”

“Andrew-hyung,” Byeonghwi answers next.

Of course Mingeun has to disagree with that too. “Five-year-old Andrew would have too much to say.”

“And five of him wouldn’t?” Eunsu asks.

“I wouldn’t mind five of Jaeseop-hyung. Or Intak-hyung,” Mingeun continues like Eunsu didn’t say anything.

“You have to pick five of Intak-hyung,” Byeonghwi argues. “We’d lose him if he was five. He’d be too quiet and go missing.”

“That’s better,” Eunsu says, interrupting the end of Byeonghwi’s explanation. “He’s the opposite of Andrew-hyung. All we have to do is give him an iPad. He won’t go anywhere.”

Despite the slight delay in Eunsu’s responses, it almost feels like he’s in the room with them. Byeonghwi lets Mingeun and Eunsu’s careful dissection of five vs five year olds for every Fable member fade into the background. He’s always been something of a third wheel next to the two of them. The years that have passed since Eunsu’s departure dissolve in public interactions like this. It’s like he’s still one of them, and it makes it impossible for any of them to move on. 

And at times like this, when Byeonghwi is sitting in a hotel room of a foreign country, he feels almost guilty. It was Eunsu’s dream to be an idol to escape his small hometown and see the world. Why is he the one here instead, achieving a dream that was never his at all?

Mingeun kicks Byeonghwi’s leg under the desk. “You’re spacing out. Thinking about the worst five-year-old Haksu scenarios?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty bad,” Byeonghwi says. This isn’t his dream, but it is his job, so he plasters a smile on and continues Mingeun’s conversation.

SATURDAY, APRIL 27, 10:14 AM BST / 11:14 AM CEST — AIR FRANCE FLIGHT 1381 (SOMEWHERE OVER THE ENGLISH CHANNEL)

The roar of the jet engines drowns out any other noise, and that gives Haksu the confidence to take out a small camera. That, and he’s bored. The flight is only a little over an hour, but they’ve been on so many planes over the past two weeks that he’s exhausted everything he downloaded from Netflix and the majority of the same handful of in-flight entertainment options available on every flight.

“Mingeun-ah,” he says softly, poking Mingeun in the shoulder. “Where are we?”

“What?” Mingeun cracks one eye open, Haksu having interrupted his dozing off in his seat. Then he notices the camera. “Turn that shit off, hyung. McDonald's. Nike. Coca-Cola. Samsung.”

Haksu pouts and lowers the camera. “You’re no fun.”

Mingeun yawns and rubs his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it. Ask your question again.”

Haksu doesn't really trust Mingeun not to mess it up again, so he does the exposition himself. He turns the camera on himself, so the two of them are in frame together. “We're going to France!” he stage-whispers. “It’s my first time, and I'm looking forward to it a lot.”

Then he turns in his seat and faces Mingeun. “Say something in French.”

He watches through the camera’s preview as Mingeun says, “Croissant. Cafeteria. Montreal.”

Haksu sighs, still disappointed. “I'll ask Andrew-hyung instead.”

The click of his seat belt unbuckling somehow cuts through the road of the engines. He kneels in his seat, pointing the camera over the back of his seat to where Andrew and Intak are locked in an intense game of air hockey on Intak's iPad. 

“Have you heard of Paris syndrome?” Andrew asks without looking up. The puck disappears into the virtual goal on Intak’s side.

Haksu stops the recording again. He trusts their video editors to somehow spin Mingeun's words, but not whatever Andrew is presenting him with. “I don’t have any kind of syndrome.”

Intak takes his iPad back. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

Haksu can’t tell if his comment is meant to be demeaning, or if it’s just Intak being Intak. He ignores it and moves on, starting to feel slightly ridiculous as he turns the camera on again. “Have you been to France before?” he asks, deciding he doesn’t want to hear whatever French drivel Andrew will provide him with if prompted. He knows the answer to this question too, but the camera doesn’t.

“Once, when I was in college,” comes Andrew’s predictable response.

“Did you like it? Are you looking forward to performing there?” Haksu prompts. He’s used to conversations with Intak being akin to pulling teeth. Having the same experience with Andrew was unexpected.

“Of course,” he answers through gritted teeth. It comes with the silent assurance that he wouldn’t dream of saying anything else. “I thought you were bothering Mingeun.”

Haksu sighs, resting his chin on the top of his seat. “Mingeun’s boring.”

Mingeun jabs him in the side. “Am not.”

Haksu drops back into his seat, any thought of recording anything replaced with exacting his revenge on Mingeun. 

Daewoong’s icy baritone interrupts his thoughts. “You’re behaving like children. Sit down.” He stands in the aisle, looming over Haksu’s seat. “Camera, Haksu.”

He hands it over without complaint, leaning away from Daewoong and onto Mingeun, who pushes him off only half-heartedly. For once, it seems like Mingeun is actively trying not to cause problems.

Daewoong returns to his seat and Haksu rights himself in his.

“Your fault,” Mingeun whispers.

“Yours, actually,” Haksu whispers back, unwilling to take the blame for something he was provoked into doing. 

Mingeun shrugs. “Whatever.” Then he goes back to listening to his music, leaving Haksu to stew alone in silence.

MONDAY, APRIL 29, 3:49 PM KST — THE FABLE GROUP CHAT (SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA)

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Make Me Forget

Winter Whumperland 2022: Day 8. Unexpected Kindness Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, former Bob x reader

Summary: Soon after a tragedy strikes, Jake finds you at his door late one night. Will he do what he has always dreamt of and you are now begging him for? Or will he find the strength to do what is right?

Word Count: 4300

TW: Emotional Angst, Grief, Death of a Loved One, Main Character Death, Tears, Drunk Reader makes bad decisions, Intoxicated Kiss, Tattoo

Notes: Thank you to @lorecraft and @green-socks for talking me through this and their support! I love you guys!

Sequel to No Laughing Matter but can also be read as a stand-alone piece.

As Jake poured his third glass of bourbon of the night, he was starting to regret not taking Coyote up on his offer to go to the movies with him and his new girlfriend. There wasn’t anything interesting playing, but it would have been nice to take his mind off of things and just mindlessly watch some robots blow some shit up or whatever for two and a half hours. But instead, he was sitting alone in a dimly lit room with only his drink for company. Not his smartest idea, but he just didn’t know how to act around his best friend at the moment.

For the past eight months, Jake had been on an extended medical leave back in Texas after he was injured in a training exercise. The break was actually doing him a lot of good. He had forgotten what it felt like to not have to try to be the best all the time. For the first time since joining the Naval Academy straight out of high school, he let himself relax and didn’t worry about how he compared to those around him. He stopped cutting his hair and grew a beard, both things he was never allowed to do while on active duty. It felt like he had control over everything in his life for once. That was until he had gotten the phone call.

Which was how he found himself staying in this rental house back in California a month before he was to be cleared for active duty. Though they had kept in contact through texts and emails, he hadn’t expected to be in person with the entire Dagger Squad again this soon. Or at least…. almost the entire squad.

Downing the rest of his glass of bourbon, he reached for the bottle to pour another when a knock on his door drew his attention. At almost one a.m., he had no idea who it could be. Only a few people even knew where he was staying, and he had made it clear he wanted to be left alone tonight.

Throwing the door open, Jake inhaled sharply as he saw the last person he expected standing just outside. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, hello to you too, Jake. You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“No, I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you here. Especially this late.”

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, each just staring at the other. Jake hadn’t seen you since the service a few days ago but you looked even worse than you had then. Your hair was a mess, your lipstick was smudged, and your eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. It wouldn’t surprise Jake if he learned you hadn’t slept more than a few hours over the last few days. Not that he would have blamed you. 

Finally, you broke the silence and asked, “You gonna make me keep standing out here, or are you gonna let me in?”

 “Oh, right, sorry.” Jake held the door open wider as you pushed past him into the house. “How’d you get here? You didn’t drive, did you?”

You scoffed. “No. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible? Phoenix put me in a car after she made me leave the bar. The guy was driving past and I remembered you were staying here while you were in town.” You stumbled slightly as you walked around the small space examining the decor. It was clear why Phoenix sent you home for the night, though Jake was surprised she hadn’t insisted on going with you.

You spotted the still-open bottle of bourbon sitting on the table and grabbed at it, almost knocking it off the table. Without even trying to look for a glass, you pressed it to your lips and took a long swig. You grimaced as you swallowed yet raised the bottle for a second drink, but Jake placed his hand on your wrist before you could.

He gently eased the bottle out of your hand and set it back down. Running his hand lightly up and down your arm, he asked, “Not that it isn’t great to see you and all, but whatcha doing here, sweetheart? It’s late and it looks like you’ve already had an exciting night. Maybe you should just be heading home. I can drive you.” He reconsidered as he remembered the three glasses of bourbon he had drank that night. “Well, I can make sure you get home safely.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you muttered faintly as you ran your fingers through the few drops of bourbon that had fallen onto the table. “I came here for you. I want you to do what you said…. last year in the bar.”

Jake’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what you might be talking about. “I say a lot of things. You wanna give me a hint which one you’re talking about?”

Awkwardly removing your jacket and letting it fall to the floor behind you, you took a step closer causing Jake to step back so you didn’t bump into his chest. “You said one night was all it would take. That after one night with you, I would forget his name. I’m here so you can help me forget.”

Jake felt all the blood drain from his face as he realized what you were talking about. The night in the Hard Deck when he had gotten very drunk and tried to fight Bob. Not that it had been much of a fight considering Bob had laid him out with a single punch, but Jake had still felt awful about it. He apologized to both you and Bob the next day and it seemed like that night had been pretty much forgotten by everyone involved. But he guessed he was wrong….

Jake placed his hands on your now bare shoulders. “Sweetheart, you know I didn’t mean that. It was a stupid, drunken mistake that–”

“You meant it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh or accusing, just matter-of-fact. You took yet another step closer. “You’ve wanted me since the first day we met, don’t deny it. And you can try to brush off all your comments as teasing but I saw the look in your eye when you made them. You meant every word. But that’s okay. Because tonight, I’m giving you exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

You slammed your lips against Jake’s, catching him by surprise as you pushed him back against the wall. Your hands threaded through his long locks, grabbing hold and using them to pull him even deeper into your lips. Jake could taste the strong sting of alcohol on your breath as your tongue slipped clumsily into his mouth and he froze, unsure of what to do.

For just a second, he considered it. He had dreamt about you often since the day Bob introduced you, and they were always the sort of dreams where he couldn’t look Bob in the eye for a few hours afterward. Yet he had resigned himself to the fact that even if you and Bob ever broke up, you weren’t the kind of girl to go for someone like him. So this, this kiss, this chance, it was more than he ever hoped for.

And yet the second you slid your knee up to rub against the growing bulge in his pants, he snapped out of it. Grabbing your wrists, he gently untangled your hands from his hair and eased you off of him. Your eyes darted across his face, so desperate and confused as to why he pulled away that he almost lost his resolve and pressed his lips against yours once more.

Panting slightly, he whispered, “We can’t do this. I–I can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s what you always wanted.”

“I can’t,” Jake whispered again, shaking his head.

Running your thumb over his cheek, tears began to roll down your face as you whispered back, “Yes, you can. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone, Jake. He’s gone, and I’m falling apart without him. I just need someone right now. I need you. I need you to take me back into the bedroom and do what you’ve always wanted, just…. just make me forget. Please. Just for tonight. I just need this pain to go away for just one goddamn night.”

You leaned forward again but he shifted slightly so instead of your lips meeting, your foreheads did. Pressing firmly against you, Jake closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths before he muttered, “Please don’t ask me again. I’m not a good enough man to deny you a third time. You’re right, I’ve always wanted you. I still want you. But not like this. We both deserve better than that.” Jake opened his eyes and stared directly into yours. “He deserves better than that.”

You jerked your head back as if he had slapped you, rapidly blinking in shock. Releasing him, you stumbled back from the wall, turning your back to him. When you finally faced him once more, Jake could tell some of the alcohol-induced fog had lifted. Tears were streaming down your face more quickly now and your bottom lip was quivering so hard, he could almost hear your teeth chattering.

Wrapping your arms across your chest, you sobbed, “What am I doing? He’s been gone for only a little over a week and I’m already throwing myself at one of his best friends.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if you were just being hyperbolic in the heat of the moment, but hearing you call him “one of his best friends” caused a knot to form in Jake’s chest. But he ignored his own pain and tried to gather you into his arms, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You struggled to free yourself from his embrace. “No, it’s not! I promised him I’d never do something like this. That he was the only one I ever wanted to be with. And now…. Now I almost–” Another wailing sob ripped through you, cutting off the rest of your words. 

Jake didn’t know what to do. In fact, he’d been having a harder time than expected dealing with what happened. As unrealistic as it was, Jake couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he had been back from leave and flying with the squad. Maybe he could have provided cover for Phoenix and Bob’s plane. Maybe that lucky bullet from the enemy wouldn’t have broken through the canopy and struck Bob in the neck. Maybe then he wouldn’t have bled out before Phoenix could even land the plane.

But all the what-ifs and could-have-been’s in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Bob was dead, and you were currently falling apart in Jake’s arms. However, where Jake might not have been there to help Bob then, he damn sure was going to do everything in his power to help you now.

“Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me!” You stopped struggling and gazed helplessly into Jake’s eyes. “I can’t be your Band-Aid to try to stop the pain, but you did nothing wrong tonight. It was only just a kiss and even if it had gone farther, you wouldn’t have been breaking any promises to him. Even in marriage, these things are only ‘til death do us part’, right? You held up your end of the bargain and he would understand. He would want you to be happy.”

 “But I’m not! How am I ever supposed to be happy again when Bob is gone! We had our whole lives planned out together. He was going to propose and leave the Navy after his next tour so we could start a family. But now it’s all gone and I don’t know what to do.” 

All of the fight suddenly went out of you, and you collapsed limply into Jake’s arms. Holding you tightly, Jake slowly sank to the floor and pulled you into his lap. Balling your fists into his shirt, you clung to him frantically as your body was wracked with sobs. There was nothing Jake could do but hold you tight and remind you that you weren’t alone.

After what seemed like hours, your sobs softened into sniffles before you eventually fell silent. Finally, you whispered, “Jake, how do I do this? It’s just too big. How do I deal with it?”

He took a deep breath and held it for a second before slowly releasing it. “I honestly don’t know. I guess you just take it one day at a time. It’s the best any of us can do. But you’re not alone. Let your friends help you through this.”

“Is that what we are, Jake? Friends?”

“I’d like to think so.” There was a moment of silence before Jake asked, “Why did you really come here tonight? To me. Was it just because you were driving by or….”

“You weren’t supposed to be this noble,” you chuckled dryly. “I thought out of everyone… Coyote has his new girlfriend, Fanboy and Payback can barely look at me right now, and Rooster’s been glued to Phoenix’s side all week. She’s trying to be strong for me but I know how much she is hurting too and he’s really helped her deal with things. So, that left you. And with your reputation and your little thing for me, I thought it was a full-proof plan. I guess I underestimated you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I guess that’s fair. You were right when you said I wanted you and that there was some truth behind my jokes and teasing. But I hope you know I would never have actually done anything. I wouldn’t have done that to Bob.”

You smiled softly as you linked your fingers with his before squeezing his hand. “I know. And so did he. He never minded your flirting because he said he knew at the end of the day you would never actually try it or make a move. And that I would never try anything either. So he just ignored it.” You shook your head softly. “God, how could someone have been so good?”

“I don’t know.” Jake wiped a tear off your cheek. “But he loved you so much. You were all he ever talked about when we were on a mission, just getting back to you. And Phoenix says your name was the last thing he said before…”

“She told me. I just wish I had been able to say goodbye.” Your voice broke and Jake pulled you tightly against his chest as your tears began to fall once more.

But they didn’t last very long. All of your crying must have taken a lot out of you because as your sobs began to dwindle and fade, Jake felt you slowly sagging in his arms. When he glanced down, he saw your eyes drooping further and further. The tears, alcohol, and late hour of night were all catching up to you and it wouldn’t be long before you had passed out completely.

Jake carefully helped get you to your feet before rising off the floor himself. His legs were numb from the way he was sitting, but he tried his best to ignore the sensation as he led you toward the bedroom.

“Where are we goin’?” you mumbled sleepily, your head leaning against his shoulder as he guided you.

“It’s late and I think it’s best if you stay here tonight. You can take my room and I’ll stay out on the couch. That way you can have the bed and a door with a lock if you want it.”

You chuckled softly without lifting your head. “Jake, I literally tried to force myself onto you tonight, and you turned me down. I think I can trust you not to sneak into the room while I’m sleeping.”

“True, but whatever makes you the most comfortable.” 

He helped you climb into bed and covered you with his blanket. Almost immediately, your eyes fluttered closed and your breathing slowed. For just a moment, Jake stood there watching you sleep. You looked so relaxed and peaceful, that he wondered what you were dreaming about. It probably involved a blue-eyed, glasses-wearing WSO, or at least, he hoped it did. 

Leaning over, Jake softly pressed his lips to the top of your head as he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Then he quietly backed out of the room and went to try to make the couch as comfortable as possible.

The sound of the front door clicking shut woke Jake the next morning. After raising his head slightly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he saw a note and a still-steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Sitting up, he brought the coffee to his lips as he read the note. It was short and sweet: Thanks for what you did…. and didn’t do.

Jake didn’t hear anything from you after that. He tried to text a few times, but you never responded. He talked to Phoenix so at least he knew you had made it home okay after you left his place, but that was all the information she would give him. 

Days went by and he was just starting to think that he would never see or hear from you again when a knock sounded at his front door. And just like a few nights earlier, he opened it to see you standing there.

This time, you looked more like the you he remembered from before Bob’s death. The bags under your eyes weren’t as pronounced, your clothes looked more put together, and when you smiled at him as he opened the door, there was actually some light in your eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey….” he said as he leaned heavily on the door. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are you?”

“Um, better, I think. Still not good, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever be good again, but I guess progress is progress. Just taking it one day at a time, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

There was a long pause before you said, “You really don’t like inviting me in, do you?”

“Oh! Sorry. Come in.” Jake stepped to the side, allowing you to pass by him, your arm lightly brushing his chest as you did. Once you were inside, he closed the door and asked, “So, uh, what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

With your back to him, you said, “I wanted to thank you for the other night. I wasn’t in a good place and I had been drinking and I made some bad decisions. And while I’m still not in a good place, now that I’m sober I’m mortified about said decisions. But the way you handled it….” You turned to face him, your lip quivering slightly. “Honestly, Jake, I don’t know how I would have ever forgiven myself if I woke up the next morning and realized we had gone through with it. Just thinking about it makes me physically ill.”

“Damn. I don’t think I would have been that bad in bed,” Jake scoffed, but he gave you a wide grin to let you know he was joking.

You smiled softly. “I’m sure you would have been exceptional. And I have no doubt that you could have lived up to your promise of making me forget everyone and everything but you in that moment.” Your face fell. “But after, when I did remember,…. It would have destroyed me. And I’m not saying I’ll never sleep with anyone ever again, but doing it that night– for that reason– would have felt like such a betrayal to Bob’s memory. So thank you for stopping me. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

Jake ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I won’t lie and say part of me doesn’t regret not going through with it just a little bit, but overall I’m also glad it didn’t happen. When you feel like it’s time to take that step, you have every right to sleep with whoever you want and you’ll have nothing to feel guilty for. But I agree that night wasn’t the best time for it.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You shifted slightly as you looked at the floor. “I, uh, I was having an extra hard time that night because the Navy finally gave me a box of Bob’s stuff and I found a receipt where he had put a down payment on a ring.”

Inhaling sharply, Jake said, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. We had talked about it a lot and I knew he was going to propose soon, I just wasn’t expecting that soon. It just made me think about all of the plans we had made that won’t ever happen now and…. I tried to drink the pain away but when that didn’t happen, I turned to you. It’s not an excuse for why I did what I did, but I thought you should have a little more context for why it happened.”

“No context needed. You got drunk and tried to sleep with the first available person you found. Who hasn’t been there?” You reached out and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze of thanks. The shift in your position drew Jake’s attention to something he hadn’t noticed before. He nodded towards the gauze poking out of the bottom of your shirt sleeve. “Didya do something to your arm?” 

A soft smile spread across your lips as you glanced down at the floor. “I did, actually. I thought a lot about the other night and you made me realize that no matter how painful it is, I never want to forget Bob…. ever. I love him and I will always love him and I don’t want to forget a second of our time together or what he means to me. So, I found a way to keep a constant reminder of that with me always.”

Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve and unwrapped the gauze from your arm, revealing a vibrant tattoo underneath that hadn’t been there the other night. It was a heart made out of a thin branch or vine covered with leaves and small, five-petal blue flowers accented with yellow centers. It was a delicate design that perfectly fit the curvature of your arm.

“Wow. That looks amazing. Remind me to ask for your guy’s number if I ever decide to get more ink.”

Jake reached out to touch the design but hesitated as you whispered, “They’re forget-me-nots.”

He glanced at your face which was still smiling though he could see a hint of moisture collecting in your eyes. When you gave him a small nod, he let his fingers gently graze the tender skin of your freshly inked arm. It was only then that he noticed the small, faint lettering on the stem at the bottom of the heart: BOB. 

Running his thumb over the letters, Jake said, “He would’ve loved this.”

“I think he would’ve too.” You ran your finger over one of the flowers as you gazed at it lovingly. Then you dropped your hand as you cleared your throat. “So, how much longer are you in town?”

Jake straightened up, removing his hand from your arm. “Just a few more days. I should be getting my medical clearance at the end of the month so I need to go home and make sure everything is in order for me to return to active duty.”

“That’s sort of a shame. I think your time on leave has been good for you.”

Jake frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You’re…. different. Like, it’s not just the longer hair and the beard– both of which look really great on you by the way– but it’s your attitude and how you hold yourself. Plus I don’t think the old Jake would have ever done what you did the other night.”

“Yeah, well, then maybe this new Jake is just an idiot. He’d have to be to ever push you away.”

“Not an idiot. Just a better man than people give him credit for.” Leaning over, you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek. 

Jake felt his heart leap in his chest and it took everything in him not to turn his head and capture your lips with his. But you were right, he had changed. The old Jake probably would have kissed you, yet now….

Clearing his throat as you took a step back, he asked, “What do you think you’ll do now?”

Sighing, you said, “I don’t know. Without Bob, I don’t really have a reason to stay in California. My parents want me to move back near them so I have a familial support system around and I’m considering it. I think a change would be good for me.”

“Apparently, it did wonders for me,” Jake teased. “But whatever you decide, I’m always here if you need anything, anything at all. You have my number.” 

Reaching out, you placed your hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll remember that. And good luck going back to work. Be safe up there.”

You dropped your hand and started to walk out of the door. When you were halfway down the steps, Jake called out, “Hey… Maybe one day in the future if you decide it’s time to move on with someone new, you look me up.”

Glancing back towards the door, you gave him a small, reserved smile. “Maybe…. One day. Goodbye, Jake.” Then you turned and soon disappeared from view. 

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[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Make Me Forget

Winter Whumperland 2022: Day 8. Unexpected Kindness Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, former Bob x reader

Summary: Soon after a tragedy strikes, Jake finds you at his door late one night. Will he do what he has always dreamt of and you are now begging him for? Or will he find the strength to do what is right?

Word Count: 4300

TW: Emotional Angst, Grief, Death of a Loved One, Main Character Death, Tears, Drunk Reader makes bad decisions, Intoxicated Kiss, Tattoo

Notes: Thank you to @lorecraft and @green-socks for talking me through this and their support! I love you guys!

Sequel to No Laughing Matter but can also be read as a stand-alone piece.

As Jake poured his third glass of bourbon of the night, he was starting to regret not taking Coyote up on his offer to go to the movies with him and his new girlfriend. There wasn’t anything interesting playing, but it would have been nice to take his mind off of things and just mindlessly watch some robots blow some shit up or whatever for two and a half hours. But instead, he was sitting alone in a dimly lit room with only his drink for company. Not his smartest idea, but he just didn’t know how to act around his best friend at the moment.

For the past eight months, Jake had been on an extended medical leave back in Texas after he was injured in a training exercise. The break was actually doing him a lot of good. He had forgotten what it felt like to not have to try to be the best all the time. For the first time since joining the Naval Academy straight out of high school, he let himself relax and didn’t worry about how he compared to those around him. He stopped cutting his hair and grew a beard, both things he was never allowed to do while on active duty. It felt like he had control over everything in his life for once. That was until he had gotten the phone call.

Which was how he found himself staying in this rental house back in California a month before he was to be cleared for active duty. Though they had kept in contact through texts and emails, he hadn’t expected to be in person with the entire Dagger Squad again this soon. Or at least…. almost the entire squad.

Downing the rest of his glass of bourbon, he reached for the bottle to pour another when a knock on his door drew his attention. At almost one a.m., he had no idea who it could be. Only a few people even knew where he was staying, and he had made it clear he wanted to be left alone tonight.

Throwing the door open, Jake inhaled sharply as he saw the last person he expected standing just outside. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, hello to you too, Jake. You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“No, I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you here. Especially this late.”

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, each just staring at the other. Jake hadn’t seen you since the service a few days ago but you looked even worse than you had then. Your hair was a mess, your lipstick was smudged, and your eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. It wouldn’t surprise Jake if he learned you hadn’t slept more than a few hours over the last few days. Not that he would have blamed you. 

Finally, you broke the silence and asked, “You gonna make me keep standing out here, or are you gonna let me in?”

 “Oh, right, sorry.” Jake held the door open wider as you pushed past him into the house. “How’d you get here? You didn’t drive, did you?”

You scoffed. “No. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible? Phoenix put me in a car after she made me leave the bar. The guy was driving past and I remembered you were staying here while you were in town.” You stumbled slightly as you walked around the small space examining the decor. It was clear why Phoenix sent you home for the night, though Jake was surprised she hadn’t insisted on going with you.

You spotted the still-open bottle of bourbon sitting on the table and grabbed at it, almost knocking it off the table. Without even trying to look for a glass, you pressed it to your lips and took a long swig. You grimaced as you swallowed yet raised the bottle for a second drink, but Jake placed his hand on your wrist before you could.

He gently eased the bottle out of your hand and set it back down. Running his hand lightly up and down your arm, he asked, “Not that it isn’t great to see you and all, but whatcha doing here, sweetheart? It’s late and it looks like you’ve already had an exciting night. Maybe you should just be heading home. I can drive you.” He reconsidered as he remembered the three glasses of bourbon he had drank that night. “Well, I can make sure you get home safely.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you muttered faintly as you ran your fingers through the few drops of bourbon that had fallen onto the table. “I came here for you. I want you to do what you said…. last year in the bar.”

Jake’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what you might be talking about. “I say a lot of things. You wanna give me a hint which one you’re talking about?”

Awkwardly removing your jacket and letting it fall to the floor behind you, you took a step closer causing Jake to step back so you didn’t bump into his chest. “You said one night was all it would take. That after one night with you, I would forget his name. I’m here so you can help me forget.”

Jake felt all the blood drain from his face as he realized what you were talking about. The night in the Hard Deck when he had gotten very drunk and tried to fight Bob. Not that it had been much of a fight considering Bob had laid him out with a single punch, but Jake had still felt awful about it. He apologized to both you and Bob the next day and it seemed like that night had been pretty much forgotten by everyone involved. But he guessed he was wrong….

Jake placed his hands on your now bare shoulders. “Sweetheart, you know I didn’t mean that. It was a stupid, drunken mistake that–”

“You meant it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh or accusing, just matter-of-fact. You took yet another step closer. “You’ve wanted me since the first day we met, don’t deny it. And you can try to brush off all your comments as teasing but I saw the look in your eye when you made them. You meant every word. But that’s okay. Because tonight, I’m giving you exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

You slammed your lips against Jake’s, catching him by surprise as you pushed him back against the wall. Your hands threaded through his long locks, grabbing hold and using them to pull him even deeper into your lips. Jake could taste the strong sting of alcohol on your breath as your tongue slipped clumsily into his mouth and he froze, unsure of what to do.

For just a second, he considered it. He had dreamt about you often since the day Bob introduced you, and they were always the sort of dreams where he couldn’t look Bob in the eye for a few hours afterward. Yet he had resigned himself to the fact that even if you and Bob ever broke up, you weren’t the kind of girl to go for someone like him. So this, this kiss, this chance, it was more than he ever hoped for.

And yet the second you slid your knee up to rub against the growing bulge in his pants, he snapped out of it. Grabbing your wrists, he gently untangled your hands from his hair and eased you off of him. Your eyes darted across his face, so desperate and confused as to why he pulled away that he almost lost his resolve and pressed his lips against yours once more.

Panting slightly, he whispered, “We can’t do this. I–I can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s what you always wanted.”

“I can’t,” Jake whispered again, shaking his head.

Running your thumb over his cheek, tears began to roll down your face as you whispered back, “Yes, you can. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone, Jake. He’s gone, and I’m falling apart without him. I just need someone right now. I need you. I need you to take me back into the bedroom and do what you’ve always wanted, just…. just make me forget. Please. Just for tonight. I just need this pain to go away for just one goddamn night.”

You leaned forward again but he shifted slightly so instead of your lips meeting, your foreheads did. Pressing firmly against you, Jake closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths before he muttered, “Please don’t ask me again. I’m not a good enough man to deny you a third time. You’re right, I’ve always wanted you. I still want you. But not like this. We both deserve better than that.” Jake opened his eyes and stared directly into yours. “He deserves better than that.”

You jerked your head back as if he had slapped you, rapidly blinking in shock. Releasing him, you stumbled back from the wall, turning your back to him. When you finally faced him once more, Jake could tell some of the alcohol-induced fog had lifted. Tears were streaming down your face more quickly now and your bottom lip was quivering so hard, he could almost hear your teeth chattering.

Wrapping your arms across your chest, you sobbed, “What am I doing? He’s been gone for only a little over a week and I’m already throwing myself at one of his best friends.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if you were just being hyperbolic in the heat of the moment, but hearing you call him “one of his best friends” caused a knot to form in Jake’s chest. But he ignored his own pain and tried to gather you into his arms, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You struggled to free yourself from his embrace. “No, it’s not! I promised him I’d never do something like this. That he was the only one I ever wanted to be with. And now…. Now I almost–” Another wailing sob ripped through you, cutting off the rest of your words. 

Jake didn’t know what to do. In fact, he’d been having a harder time than expected dealing with what happened. As unrealistic as it was, Jake couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he had been back from leave and flying with the squad. Maybe he could have provided cover for Phoenix and Bob’s plane. Maybe that lucky bullet from the enemy wouldn’t have broken through the canopy and struck Bob in the neck. Maybe then he wouldn’t have bled out before Phoenix could even land the plane.

But all the what-ifs and could-have-been’s in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Bob was dead, and you were currently falling apart in Jake’s arms. However, where Jake might not have been there to help Bob then, he damn sure was going to do everything in his power to help you now.

“Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me!” You stopped struggling and gazed helplessly into Jake’s eyes. “I can’t be your Band-Aid to try to stop the pain, but you did nothing wrong tonight. It was only just a kiss and even if it had gone farther, you wouldn’t have been breaking any promises to him. Even in marriage, these things are only ‘til death do us part’, right? You held up your end of the bargain and he would understand. He would want you to be happy.”

 “But I’m not! How am I ever supposed to be happy again when Bob is gone! We had our whole lives planned out together. He was going to propose and leave the Navy after his next tour so we could start a family. But now it’s all gone and I don’t know what to do.” 

All of the fight suddenly went out of you, and you collapsed limply into Jake’s arms. Holding you tightly, Jake slowly sank to the floor and pulled you into his lap. Balling your fists into his shirt, you clung to him frantically as your body was wracked with sobs. There was nothing Jake could do but hold you tight and remind you that you weren’t alone.

After what seemed like hours, your sobs softened into sniffles before you eventually fell silent. Finally, you whispered, “Jake, how do I do this? It’s just too big. How do I deal with it?”

He took a deep breath and held it for a second before slowly releasing it. “I honestly don’t know. I guess you just take it one day at a time. It’s the best any of us can do. But you’re not alone. Let your friends help you through this.”

“Is that what we are, Jake? Friends?”

“I’d like to think so.” There was a moment of silence before Jake asked, “Why did you really come here tonight? To me. Was it just because you were driving by or….”

“You weren’t supposed to be this noble,” you chuckled dryly. “I thought out of everyone… Coyote has his new girlfriend, Fanboy and Payback can barely look at me right now, and Rooster’s been glued to Phoenix’s side all week. She’s trying to be strong for me but I know how much she is hurting too and he’s really helped her deal with things. So, that left you. And with your reputation and your little thing for me, I thought it was a full-proof plan. I guess I underestimated you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I guess that’s fair. You were right when you said I wanted you and that there was some truth behind my jokes and teasing. But I hope you know I would never have actually done anything. I wouldn’t have done that to Bob.”

You smiled softly as you linked your fingers with his before squeezing his hand. “I know. And so did he. He never minded your flirting because he said he knew at the end of the day you would never actually try it or make a move. And that I would never try anything either. So he just ignored it.” You shook your head softly. “God, how could someone have been so good?”

“I don’t know.” Jake wiped a tear off your cheek. “But he loved you so much. You were all he ever talked about when we were on a mission, just getting back to you. And Phoenix says your name was the last thing he said before…”

“She told me. I just wish I had been able to say goodbye.” Your voice broke and Jake pulled you tightly against his chest as your tears began to fall once more.

But they didn’t last very long. All of your crying must have taken a lot out of you because as your sobs began to dwindle and fade, Jake felt you slowly sagging in his arms. When he glanced down, he saw your eyes drooping further and further. The tears, alcohol, and late hour of night were all catching up to you and it wouldn’t be long before you had passed out completely.

Jake carefully helped get you to your feet before rising off the floor himself. His legs were numb from the way he was sitting, but he tried his best to ignore the sensation as he led you toward the bedroom.

“Where are we goin’?” you mumbled sleepily, your head leaning against his shoulder as he guided you.

“It’s late and I think it’s best if you stay here tonight. You can take my room and I’ll stay out on the couch. That way you can have the bed and a door with a lock if you want it.”

You chuckled softly without lifting your head. “Jake, I literally tried to force myself onto you tonight, and you turned me down. I think I can trust you not to sneak into the room while I’m sleeping.”

“True, but whatever makes you the most comfortable.” 

He helped you climb into bed and covered you with his blanket. Almost immediately, your eyes fluttered closed and your breathing slowed. For just a moment, Jake stood there watching you sleep. You looked so relaxed and peaceful, that he wondered what you were dreaming about. It probably involved a blue-eyed, glasses-wearing WSO, or at least, he hoped it did. 

Leaning over, Jake softly pressed his lips to the top of your head as he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Then he quietly backed out of the room and went to try to make the couch as comfortable as possible.

The sound of the front door clicking shut woke Jake the next morning. After raising his head slightly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he saw a note and a still-steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Sitting up, he brought the coffee to his lips as he read the note. It was short and sweet: Thanks for what you did…. and didn’t do.

Jake didn’t hear anything from you after that. He tried to text a few times, but you never responded. He talked to Phoenix so at least he knew you had made it home okay after you left his place, but that was all the information she would give him. 

Days went by and he was just starting to think that he would never see or hear from you again when a knock sounded at his front door. And just like a few nights earlier, he opened it to see you standing there.

This time, you looked more like the you he remembered from before Bob’s death. The bags under your eyes weren’t as pronounced, your clothes looked more put together, and when you smiled at him as he opened the door, there was actually some light in your eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey….” he said as he leaned heavily on the door. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are you?”

“Um, better, I think. Still not good, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever be good again, but I guess progress is progress. Just taking it one day at a time, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

There was a long pause before you said, “You really don’t like inviting me in, do you?”

“Oh! Sorry. Come in.” Jake stepped to the side, allowing you to pass by him, your arm lightly brushing his chest as you did. Once you were inside, he closed the door and asked, “So, uh, what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

With your back to him, you said, “I wanted to thank you for the other night. I wasn’t in a good place and I had been drinking and I made some bad decisions. And while I’m still not in a good place, now that I’m sober I’m mortified about said decisions. But the way you handled it….” You turned to face him, your lip quivering slightly. “Honestly, Jake, I don’t know how I would have ever forgiven myself if I woke up the next morning and realized we had gone through with it. Just thinking about it makes me physically ill.”

“Damn. I don’t think I would have been that bad in bed,” Jake scoffed, but he gave you a wide grin to let you know he was joking.

You smiled softly. “I’m sure you would have been exceptional. And I have no doubt that you could have lived up to your promise of making me forget everyone and everything but you in that moment.” Your face fell. “But after, when I did remember,…. It would have destroyed me. And I’m not saying I’ll never sleep with anyone ever again, but doing it that night– for that reason– would have felt like such a betrayal to Bob’s memory. So thank you for stopping me. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

Jake ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I won’t lie and say part of me doesn’t regret not going through with it just a little bit, but overall I’m also glad it didn’t happen. When you feel like it’s time to take that step, you have every right to sleep with whoever you want and you’ll have nothing to feel guilty for. But I agree that night wasn’t the best time for it.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You shifted slightly as you looked at the floor. “I, uh, I was having an extra hard time that night because the Navy finally gave me a box of Bob’s stuff and I found a receipt where he had put a down payment on a ring.”

Inhaling sharply, Jake said, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. We had talked about it a lot and I knew he was going to propose soon, I just wasn’t expecting that soon. It just made me think about all of the plans we had made that won’t ever happen now and…. I tried to drink the pain away but when that didn’t happen, I turned to you. It’s not an excuse for why I did what I did, but I thought you should have a little more context for why it happened.”

“No context needed. You got drunk and tried to sleep with the first available person you found. Who hasn’t been there?” You reached out and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze of thanks. The shift in your position drew Jake’s attention to something he hadn’t noticed before. He nodded towards the gauze poking out of the bottom of your shirt sleeve. “Didya do something to your arm?” 

A soft smile spread across your lips as you glanced down at the floor. “I did, actually. I thought a lot about the other night and you made me realize that no matter how painful it is, I never want to forget Bob…. ever. I love him and I will always love him and I don’t want to forget a second of our time together or what he means to me. So, I found a way to keep a constant reminder of that with me always.”

Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve and unwrapped the gauze from your arm, revealing a vibrant tattoo underneath that hadn’t been there the other night. It was a heart made out of a thin branch or vine covered with leaves and small, five-petal blue flowers accented with yellow centers. It was a delicate design that perfectly fit the curvature of your arm.

“Wow. That looks amazing. Remind me to ask for your guy’s number if I ever decide to get more ink.”

Jake reached out to touch the design but hesitated as you whispered, “They’re forget-me-nots.”

He glanced at your face which was still smiling though he could see a hint of moisture collecting in your eyes. When you gave him a small nod, he let his fingers gently graze the tender skin of your freshly inked arm. It was only then that he noticed the small, faint lettering on the stem at the bottom of the heart: BOB. 

Running his thumb over the letters, Jake said, “He would’ve loved this.”

“I think he would’ve too.” You ran your finger over one of the flowers as you gazed at it lovingly. Then you dropped your hand as you cleared your throat. “So, how much longer are you in town?”

Jake straightened up, removing his hand from your arm. “Just a few more days. I should be getting my medical clearance at the end of the month so I need to go home and make sure everything is in order for me to return to active duty.”

“That’s sort of a shame. I think your time on leave has been good for you.”

Jake frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You’re…. different. Like, it’s not just the longer hair and the beard– both of which look really great on you by the way– but it’s your attitude and how you hold yourself. Plus I don’t think the old Jake would have ever done what you did the other night.”

“Yeah, well, then maybe this new Jake is just an idiot. He’d have to be to ever push you away.”

“Not an idiot. Just a better man than people give him credit for.” Leaning over, you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek. 

Jake felt his heart leap in his chest and it took everything in him not to turn his head and capture your lips with his. But you were right, he had changed. The old Jake probably would have kissed you, yet now….

Clearing his throat as you took a step back, he asked, “What do you think you’ll do now?”

Sighing, you said, “I don’t know. Without Bob, I don’t really have a reason to stay in California. My parents want me to move back near them so I have a familial support system around and I’m considering it. I think a change would be good for me.”

“Apparently, it did wonders for me,” Jake teased. “But whatever you decide, I’m always here if you need anything, anything at all. You have my number.” 

Reaching out, you placed your hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll remember that. And good luck going back to work. Be safe up there.”

You dropped your hand and started to walk out of the door. When you were halfway down the steps, Jake called out, “Hey… Maybe one day in the future if you decide it’s time to move on with someone new, you look me up.”

Glancing back towards the door, you gave him a small, reserved smile. “Maybe…. One day. Goodbye, Jake.” Then you turned and soon disappeared from view. 

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