#jeep phone mount | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinkerbellini21 · 6 days ago

Text

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 20

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff, alcohol use, spoilers

Author's Notes: Might be a few days before I update! I have to crack down on these final papers!

Masterlist | Taglist

You’re mid-break the next day when your phone vibrates. You pick it up, seeing your fiance’s name flashing across the screen.

“Sorry, this is Buck. I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself from your conversation with Josh, walking out of the breakroom and down the hallway. Soon he is requesting a video call. As you answer, you see him in the Jeep, wearing a white top and his brown jacket.

“Hi Babe! You caught me at a good time, I’m just taking my break. How are you? Did you end up finding the lunch I left you this morning?”

“Yes, it was delicious, thanks.” His voice is distracted, but he flashes a half-smile at your thoughtfulness. “Were you upset yesterday because of the name tag?”

“Well hello to you too.” You tease, looking away from the camera. You’re quickly thinking on the spot, trying to find a way around this conversation. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I want you to know that this is still my spot. She’s not taking it.”

“Oh, I know that.” You roll your tongue up behind your top lip, letting it slip out of your mouth before you continue. “To answer your question, I wasn’t crying over just that. If it makes you feel better, Eddie let me be his punching bag! It’s been needing to happen for a few months now. He took it like a champ. He’s a really good friend.”

“Wait, what?” His eyes widen. “You punched Eddie? What happened?”

“Buck—”

“Don’t say it doesn’t matter. Did they say something to upset you?”

“No.” You hear him groan, frustrated at your stubborn nature. “It was teasing and I was being sensitive, that’s all. Eddie let me punch him a few times to get my anger out.”

His eyes soften, lashes fluttering, voice hushed. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, too.” You cast your gaze down, finding your loafers much more interesting.

You tried to protect him. But it didn’t work. You swallow a lump.

“Hey, I’m not mad. I just- please don’t carry this stuff by yourself. That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

“Yeah.” You’re now kicking your foot back and forth, toes catching with each swing. You didn’t want to have to add onto his load, though.At least, not right now. “It was just easier to not say anything. You’ve been adjusting so well and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Babe, look at me. You could never ruin it. It’s just a job. Sure, it’s been tough but it’s not more important than you, and it never will be.” He pauses, making eye contact with you. Your eyes have glossed over. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile as he tilts his head, blowing a kiss. You blow one back, feeling like a teenage girl falling in love all over again.

“That’s what I like to see, that pretty smile. Now tell me about your day. Any interesting calls?”

You laugh, recalling the ridiculous case that you had. He laughs alongside you, attentive to your day, but you can’t help but see a light dimming in his eyes. Your chest squeezes. So you quickly change gears, asking him about his day. The light slowly flickers alive again, and the pressure slowly eases.

You finish the call, still smiling, glad to have a burst of renewed energy. Yet, by the end of your 12-hour shift, you’re exhausted. You want to go home, eat, and collapse into Buck’s arms. When you get into your car, your head hits the steering wheel. You just need a minute to collect yourself. However, with each passing second, you feel yourself drifting further towards sleep.

You straighten up, placing your phone on the mount to call your boyfriend. It rings, and you get through to his voicemail. You try again. No answer. Your eyebrows turn in. That’s not normal.

You get home safely, thanks to your music blaring. Buck’s Jeep is here.

Was he really asleep? At 8 PM?

Quietly, you open the door. The lights are off, met with the sounds of the TV. With the flick of the light switch, you enter the kitchen to find something to eat. You don’t find anything satisfying to eat, so you grab an apple to eat with peanut butter, not too hungry.

Something feels off. You feel nauseous. You haven’t felt this type of pit in your stomach in months. Even when Buck threw the blood clot.

As you cut the apple into slices, you happen to glance at the TV. Buck lays on his stomach, passed out on the couch. His arm and a leg are hanging off of the piece of furniture. The next thing you observe light reflecting off of a bottle. Then you see two.

Maybe he’d picked up some of the old-fashioned sodas he treats himself to every once in a while.

You step around the counter, moving closer. A third bottle is on the floor. A hint of barley and hops wafts through the air.

You lean in closer. Stella Artois. Not his usual beer. You quickly google the ABV. 5.2%. Stronger than a Corona. Three bottles and blood thinners? No wonder he’s out cold.

You twist the ring on your finger, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together.

Buck has been diligent, watching what he eats, limiting his consumption of alcohol. Something happened. Did the name tag get to him that bad? What happened?

You pull out your phone, dialing Maddie. She picks up after the first ring.

“What’s up? I’m kind of busy.” It’s short, voice hushed. You frown. Did something happen between the two of them? Is everyone feeling off today?

“Hey, sorry. I know you had a hard call today, but— I’m worried about Buck. He’s passed out on the couch with three empty bottles of beer What if it hurts him?”

“Watch him, but I think he’ll be okay. Keep me updated?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You feel an eye twitch as you pull the phone away from your cheek, looking at the screen. Does she really not have anything to say? Not to ask if you were okay? She didn’t even seem that concerned about her brother.

“Night.”

You bite your tongue to avoid getting annoyed with her. Maybe she’s just checked out for the night, tired after an emotionally exhausting case. Still… it stings.

“Night.”

After finishing your apple, you head upstairs for a shower. You need to clear your head, to make a plan before approaching Buck.

Your shower thoughts are invaded by worries. What tipped Buck over the edge? Did the 118 say something? Did he overhear them? Was he frustrated after a long day?

With one of his shirts and a pair of panties, you pad downstairs. You squat down next to him, laying your hand on his back. You rub in circles, gently shaking him. Warmth radiates off of him, his shirt stuck to his skin by sweat.

“Buck. Babe.” You say firmly. It takes a few more attempts before he becomes somewhat alert.

“Hmm.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’ wanna talk abou’it.”

“Okay. Did you eat?”

“Yeaah.”

You kneel on your knees, placing a hand on Buck’s face. Stubble pokes your skin as your fingers glide across his jaw.

“Alright, good. Can we get you upstairs for bed?”

“Comfy ‘ere.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. The muscles of his face turn into a smile.

“I’m sure you are, buuut, I don’t want you to be sore in the morning.”

“‘M’fine,” he mumbles again, words sloshed together.

You sigh, exasperated. With a roll of your eyes, you tilt his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy, red. The redness inhis eyes wasn’t just from the alcohol- it was grief. That pit in your stomach? It was the same ache in his chest, bubbling until it broke loose.

“You know, as your fiance, I cannot do that. I won’t sleep well if you’re on the couch.”

“Can’t move.”

“That’s okay. Do you want me to call Eddie?”

“Noo.” He draws out with a groan, and you bite back a laugh as he struggles to get up.

After a few attempts, you decide that you had your entertainment, and now was the time to offer him a hand.

You had never experienced a drunk Buck before. After not drinking much in the past year, combined with his medication, it’s no wonder that he’s really feeling the effects of three beers.

Getting Buck to stand on his feet is a feat on its own. Once he’s up, your arm steadies him. He trips, leaning most of his weight on you. You fight hard to keep yourself up right, laughing as you slowly move the man across the floor.

Looking up the stairs, you turn your attention back to the man. He’s staring back down at you, eyes shining with love. It’s the same look he gave you hours ago. Now he’s out of it, hurting on the inside.

“You’re amazing. I looove you.”

“I looove you too. Now hold onto that railing and work with me, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You manage to make it upstairs, both of you giggling as you sway in sync. You consider collapsing beside him in bed, but first, you have to find out what’s going on.

Once his head hits the pillow and you get him out of his clothes, he’s out like a light. You linger, pushing your fingers through his hair. He starts to snore into the pillow, and you gently turn his head to the side so he can get some air.

You move to turn the light off in the bathroom. You look back, the light casting a shadow on the wall. Buck’s back is rising and falling equally. For a moment, you pretend that everything is fine. He’s safe, and that’s all that matters.

Then reality creeps its way back in.

You sneak downstairs to tidy up. It’s your job to find out what put Buck in this state. To get ahead on damage control.

Your first instinct is to call Eddie, to see if he has talked to him recently.

“Hey! I’m on shift. Is everything okay?”

“Hey! I don’t want to bother you, but do you know why Buck would’ve been drinking tonight? He didn’t want to talk about it, and he’s pretty messed up. I had to help him up the stairs, Eddie.”

Your fingers wrap around the necks of the three bottles. Now that you’re not worried about Buck, you realize that the floor underneath your feet is cold.

“Uhm, no I don't. That’s surprising, actually, with his blood thinners and all.”

“Yeah—I don’t want to invade his privacy, but I’m about to open his phone.” The bottles clink against each other as you stand above the trash can, foot pushing the pedal. “Tell me it’s a bad idea.”

“Actually, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. This is uncharacteristic of him, and I think that if you can find out what went wrong, it might be easier to approach it in the morning.”

“You know what, you’re so right.” You drop the bottles in the trash can, switching the device to your other ear. You quietly navigate across the loft, not wanting to be heard by Buck- even though there’s no way he’s waking up anytime soon.

Sitting down on the couch, you place your phone on your lap.

“I’m in.” You feel giddy, like you’re a part of a secret mission. You should feel bad, but you remember that this is for Buck’s health. You navigate to his texts, skimming previous without opening them. “Eddie, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything.”

“Check his call log. Maybe Cap talked to him.”

You start at the top of the call log. Your two missed calls. A call to Maddie, which she didn’t answer, and then-

“Oh, look! He got a call from Athena about two hours ago.”

“Great. Sooo, follow up with her and let me know what you find out.”

“Okay. Thanks, Eds.”

“No problem. Good luck! Speak soon, Sunshine.”

You put Buck’s phone down, switching to yours as you stand up. You type in Athena, finger hovering over the call button. You start to pace between the living room and the dining area.

Part of you thinks you should let this be, wait for Buck to tell you when you’re ready. But now you’re curious. With a deep breath, you dial the number, holding your breath anxiously. Maybe you should hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Athena! I’m so sorry to be calling this late at night. I just got home from work and Buck was drunk on the couch. He had three beers and I’m trying to figure out why. With his blood thinners— I’m just concerned.”

“Are you sitting down for this?”

You stop in your tracks, body tensing. What does she mean, are you sitting down? Is it that bad?

“Why?”

“I invited Buck over for dinner. Things didn’t go over too smoothly.”

You move towards the island, running your fingers across the countertop.

“What happened?”

“Buck was ranting about not being back and Bobby told him that it was his choice.”

“Oh.”

“He got upset, said it wasn’t fair. Bobby told him it was the blood thinners, and… he spiraled. I tried to talk him down, but he left before I could.”

You tap your ring on the surface, hearing small clinks with each hit. Just another hit to Buck’s progress.

“Are you okay?”

You tap your foot anxiously, gripping the edge of the counter. You don’t feel okay.

“Yeah, I uh, I trust Bobby’s judgement. I have to, uh, figure out how to be neutral.”

“Well it’ll work itself out. He’ll get over it.”

Her voice softens, silent for a beat. You fight back a snarky comment in response to ‘he’ll get over it’. But that’s just how Athena is—she means no harm.

“But in the meantime, if you need anything, let us know. We’re always here for you. And Buck.”

“Thanks Athena.”

You toss your phone down with a loud clunk, hearing it slide across the counter and crash onto the floor. You'll get it in a minute.

You lean forward to rest on your elbows. You stretch your hamstrings as you push back on your legs. Carding your fingers through your hair, you tug at the root.

This is bad. You had just gotten him out of his recent depressive episode.

And with one step forward, you’re pushed two steps backwards.

Again.

But as you collect yourself, untangling your fingers from your hair, you glance at the ring on your hand. You smile lovingly.

This is your person, your forever and always. You’ll get through this. You just have to have faith that soon this will be back to normal. Buck will be back to full duty- for his and your own sanity.

But for now, he can lean on you. You’ll hold him together, because that’s what you do for someone you love.

You’ll talk to Buck tomorrow. You’ll face this with him- whatever it is. But for now, you go collapse into Buck’s arms, pushing away the worries for the night. Each snore in your ear, surprisingly comforting, as you lay back against his chest, his arm finding its way home. You softly whisper a love you, letting your eyes drift shut.

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

🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz, @queen-o-castle, @dipdeedoda, @rintheemolion, @iluvvcaats, @maryyy-8 , @strabarrybat, @unholycheesesnack, @formula1-motogpfan, @booklover2503, @strawb3rrywh0r3, @itsthebookqueenthings, @mmkkzz, @teenwolfbitches28, @mynameis-alexa, @sophham, @bellsbomb

#reader insert #x reader #911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #911 x reader #911 x you #911 show #evan buck buckley x plus size reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #x y/n #x you

54 notes · View notes

lovelytsunoda · 2 months ago

Text

love is a losing game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

PART I - Wonderwall

Summary: Detectives Jessica Statham and Jake Seresin are ready to tie the knot! Fast forward six years, and they're trying desperately to have a baby. Feeling the mounting pressure of his job, his mortgage and the rising cost of living, Jake's looking for an answer to all his problems. Enter his partner, Detective Bradley Bradshaw, who has an idea for a side gig that might not be entirely legal

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of fertility issues, depictions of a car accident and miscarriage. Mentions of mental health struggles. Jessie really wants to be a mother, Jake gets told he has a lower than average sperm count. Infidelity (NOT FROM JESSIE OR JAKE) Bradley is actually such a horrible person I’m so sorry but someone had to be the bad guy here. Intense violence.

Author's Note: Guys I feel like I'm back in my Wattpad era here! Anyone who regularly reads my shit knows I'm awful at continuing series (Rip to the Welcome to Wherever You Are Verse and the Radiator Springs series) but I've had Bosch on the brain lately and its giving me ideas like no other. I hammered out most of this chapter in like two hours.

Cop Terms Glossary: RHD (Robbery-Homicide Division), Vice (a division of the police department assigned to crimes related to gambling & prostitution)

Series Masterlist

June 2017

“Well, I’m beat. Anybody want a stiff drink?” Detective Tom Kazansky asked around as they filed out of the courtroom and down the hallway.

Since the Kelly Garrett trial had concluded for the day, Jessica had been strangely quiet, staring down at her phone almost as soon as she had left the courtroom.

“Yeah, why not.” Pete Mitchell relented, turning to look at his desk officer. “Jessie, you in?”

Her head snapped up from her cell phone, tendrils of cherry-red hair falling in front of her eyes. She had been working with the two detectives for just under two years. Kazansky was easygoing and the two had clicked fast, but Mitchell had taken her a lot longer to warm up to. He seemed to see conspiracies everywhere, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was usually right. She and Mitchell had an unusual bond, and it raised many eyebrows around the department.

Six months ago, in pursuit of both a ring of dirty cops who had murdered her patrol mentor, Javy Machado, as well as the killer of a pornography director, Jessica had been caught in the bloody crossfires of a daylight shooting on her day off. The bullet had grazed her leg, and put her out of commission for a week. Seeing that the wife of the dead man who shot her was currently on trial for murder, Mitchell and Kazansky thought she’d be a little more attentive.

“Actually,” she grinned, tapping her manicured nails against her phone case, giddy with excitement. “I have a date.”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. “A date?”

“Yeah. He’s also a cop. He works patrol out of Franklin, near Thai Town. I met him when the trial first started.”

“I’ll be damned.” Tom grinned. “Who would have thought. Go on, don’t let us keep you. And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Jessie gave him a look as she turned to walk out the main courthouse doors. “Knowing you and Pete, that doesn’t stop me from doing much.”

Pete laughed. “She’s got us there, Tom.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Detective Pete Mitchell found it hard to believe that conversation had taken place just three years prior. He was ruminating over it as he pulled his Jeep into a parking space near the marina hall, taking in the balloons, partygoers and the chalkboard sign outside the entrance.

Welcome to the wedding of Jake Seresin and Jessica Statham.

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” Tom Kazansky wisecracked from the passenger seat. “She’s come a long way, as a person and as a cop.”

“I’ve never been prouder of someone I’ve mentored.” Pete agreed. “Come on, let’s get in there soon so we don’t have to sit at the back with the riff raff.”

Kazansky laughed. “The riff raff? You know its mostly cops in there, right?”

“They’re vice cops, Tom. Vice cops.”

The front hall of the building was deserted, a hair metal love ballad playing over the speaker as guests filed into the main room. To his right, Pete could see the bridal party gathering together. Jessie was in the middle, looking radiant in a simple white dress. Her hair was back its natural color, cascading in waves over her shoulders and back. Mickey Garcia, another RHD detective, was fiddling with her hair, attempting to straighten the ribbon holding it back from her face.

“Mickey, stop touching things! Natasha spent like two hours on this!”

Mickey and Jessie had come up through patrol together, alongside Javy Machado. They had gotten closer after Javy died, and Jessie continued to think of him as one of her best friends. He was always there to give her guidance, or listen to her rant about whatever rule Pete had broken that day.

“I thought you stopped listening to this stuff after the Ansel Howard appeal?” Pete remarked, approaching the group.

Jessie turned to face him, eyes lighting up. “Pete! You made it! And don’t talk about that disgusting man on my wedding day, please.” She resisted the urge to shudder thinking about the convicted felon who had leered at her in court and sent threatening letters to her house, or how his lawyer tried to tear her apart on the stand with her sealed juvenile record. “I’m glad you made it.”

Pete pulled her in for a hug, and had a vague sense that soon enough, he’d be watching his own daughter go through the same motions. “You might want to get Natasha to check your hair again. Make sure she can fix whatever Garcia has done to it.”

“It was crooked!” Mickey protested

Jessie giggled, pulling away from the detective. “I will. Hi, Tom. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The other detective said, giving her a quick hug. “I hope we’re not too late.”

Jessie shook her head. “Just in time, actually.”

The detectives filed out the door, settling in at the wide end of the dock, where white wooden chairs with large ribbons on the backs had been set up. Ron Kerner, the chief desk officer out of Hollywood station, had saved the pair seats.

Back in the marina hall, Jessie was vibrating with excitement as the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up to make their entrance. Jake Seresin was standing at the front with his mother, and Natasha had dramatically covered his eyes with a sleeping mask as everyone fell into their practiced positions. Jessie’s dad linked his arm with hers as Natasha passed her the bouquet of wildflowers.

“I’m so happy for you, Jessie.” Natasha gushed. “Don’t think about anything else out there. Just you and Jake.”

“Thank you, Nat. I’m ready to start whenever you guys are.”

The music started up, something neutral and cheery, as the groom and his mother, followed by the paired off bridesmaids and groomsmen (or, in Mickey’s case, Mickey and one of Jake's groomsmen striding down the dock like football players taking to the field at the Super Bowl). Jessie watched from the doorway, a wide smile on her face and feeling of elation in her stomach that was quickly weighed down by nerves.

Her dad squeezed her arm, looking down at her. “You’ve got this, kiddo.”

The music changed one final time, a soft new wave song from the mid-nineties. Jessie took a deep breath, tightened her hold on the bouquet, and began to walk down the pier. It was a beautiful day outside, sunlight reflecting off the blue water of the Marina del Rey. But all of that paled in comparison to the sight of her husband to be standing at the altar.

Jake Seresin took her breath away in his tight black suit, white carnations pinned to his lapel. His usually messy hair was moderately tamed, and Jessie had no doubt that he would smell like hair gel when she stood across from him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the breeze, but she didn’t feel cold.

No, she felt warmth blossom through her chest when she saw Jake see her in her dress for the first time. His face went pink with emotion, tears pricking at his eyes.

Please don’t cry, she thought. If you cry, so will I, and then my mascara will run and the pictures will be ruined.

Her walk down the aisle seemed to both take too long and not long enough as she passed Natasha her bouquet, moving to stand in front of JaKe. One of his calloused hands came out to hold hers, rubbing reassuring circles on her palm.

“You look beautiful.” He choked out, tearing up. “I love you so much.”

She beamed at him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you too, Jacob Arthur Seresin.”

Behind them, the officiant cleared his throat. “It’s a little too soon for the vows, kids. I do have a speech to get through, you know.”

The couple laughed, refusing the let go of their held hands. The officiant began his speech, and Jessie took a peek out at the crowd. The seats were full, and she was floored that so many people had cared enough about her to come and watch her marry the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Now, I know you guys are both cops, and there are default vows that cops usually say at these things,” the officiant started “but I do believe the bride and groom have written their own vows.”

From that moment forward, Jessie tattooed Jake’s vows to the inside of her brain. His vows to protect her, to love her, to always have her back, to cherish her. To be her safe haven when the world became too much.

And seven years later, when he walked out of their house in handcuffs, there was another promise he made that she couldn’t help but repeat like a mantra.

To never let her become a single mother.

Four years later

Jessie’s aging Volkswagen Golf waited in the intersection, blinker on with the expectation that traffic would cool enough for her to take the left hand turn that would set her and Jake back on their way to Los Angeles. They had spent the weekend in Pasadena with her parents, as well as her cousins and their kids.

She would be hesitant to admit it out loud, but seeing Jake interact with her nieces and nephews lit a fire inside her that she never knew was there. He was so good with kids, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would act with a kid of his own. She knew in her gut that she would be such a good father.

“Will’s daughter is adorable.” Jake remarked, his hand trailing to Jessie’s jean-clad thigh. The radio hummed softly in the background, playing an old Huey Lewis song that they had danced to at their wedding. “Did you see the way she followed your sister around the kitchen, waving that wooden spoon about.”

Jessie snorted, tapping her fingernails against the steering wheel. “I thought she was going to take her brother’s eye out with that thing.”

The light changed from green to yellow. Seeing a gap in traffic, Jessie took her foot off the brake and completed her turn. Or at least, she tried to. There was a sickening crash as another vehicle cut in front of her, taking off the front end of her hood. The seatbelt dug into her stomach as the car spun around, her forehead snapping against the steering wheel right before the airbags engaged.

“Jessica!” Jake shouted after the car had stopped, straining around his seatbelt and the airbag dust to get a glimpse of his wife. “Jessica!” He fumbled with the car door, slicing through his seatbelt with the Swiss Army Knife in his jeans pocket.

He ran around the back of the car, ignoring the other driver who was cursing a storm at him over the wreckage of his Tesla. Jake clawed at the door, desperate to get to his wife. “Jess.” He said firmly, sawing at her seatbelt. She was groggy, but awake. She seemed unharmed, but Kevin wouldn’t know until he got her out of there.

“Jake?” She murmured, reaching for the collar of his flannel shirt.

“I’m right here, baby. Right here.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled her out of the driver’s seat, setting her down on the road. The Tesla driver was still shouting, screaming about how he was going to call the cops.

“You just hit two cops, you self-righteous son of a bitch!” Jake cried, fumbling for his badge. “Detective Jake Seresin, Hollywood Vice. Now I need you to call my wife a goddamn ambulance!”

Jessie’s jeans were soaked with blood, and there was a cut running down the side of her head where she was hit with broken glass from her rearview mirror.

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding real bad. Are you hurt?”

Jessie shook her head, trying hard to keep her eyes open. “Just my head, I think. And my stomach. But it feels more like a cramp.”

“Just keep holding my hand, baby. I’m calling it in.” Jake tried to stay levelheaded. There were a whole manner of injuries Jessie could have that weren’t visible. Internal bleeding, broken bones. His fingers stained his screen protector with blood as he dialed the 911 circuit board. “This is Detective Jake Seresin, my wife, Detective Jessica Seresin and I were just in a car accident in Pasadena, at the intersection near Robinson Stadium. We need an ambulance and two patrol units.”

The next few hours felt like an incoherent blur. Jake was largely fine aside from some bruising on his ribs from the airbags. Jessie’s condition was more complex, and Jake was worrying himself sick as he paced up and down the hospital waiting room, hoping that when the doctor came out, it would be with good news. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally allowed into the room to see her. The only other time they had been to the emergency room together was when Jessie had her heart episode, right in the middle of one of the LAPD’s most high-profile cases. Considering she had worked that case with Pete Mitchell, it was no surprise that it had driven her to a near heart attack.

He sat next to her hospital bed, taking her hand in his. There was a red mark on her hand where her wedding ring had been, now sitting on the nightstand next to her. Jessie was awake, and mostly alert. There was a bandage on the side of her head, but other than that, she seemed to be fine.

“Jake, you’re okay.” Jessie breathed, squeezing his hand. “I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, Jess. That was a lot of blood.”

“The doctor should be in in a moment.” The nurse standing next to Jessie’s bed gave the couple a tired smile as she finished adjusting Jessie’s IVs.

Shortly after the nurse had left, a broad-shouldered doctor came into the room, brandishing a clipboard. He cleared his throat before introducing himself to Jake. “Well, the good news is that you both are fine. All wounds were minor, but you both should be on the lookout for any delayed symptoms, especially those associated with whiplash.” The doctor paused. “Now for the bad news. Your baby didn’t make it.”

Jake sat up straighter. He felt Jessie’s hand tighten around his as she weakly gasped out “what baby?”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “Did you not know? Mrs. Seresin, you were nine weeks pregnant.”

Jessie froze in place, before letting out a choked wail. “No. No, no, no…”

“Oh, Jessica.” Jake sighed, feeling his heart shatter “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.” She sobbed, leaning against her husband for support.

“I know, honey. I know. I’ve got you.”

The months that followed were rough on both parties. Jessie withdrew from Jake, burying herself in her work. Jake started drinking, staying out later with his colleagues. He hated that Jessica was in so much pain and that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. At the same time, he was grieving what could have been. He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted to be a father until the universe ripped that opportunity from him.

It all came to a head when he came home from work and found Jessica sobbing on the kitchen floor, practically catatonic. She had required inpatient psychiatric care after that, at a facility in Santa Clarita. It wasn’t an easy decision for Jake to make, and he worried what the people around him would think, would say behind his back. But he didn’t know what else to do.

The day he dropped Jessica off at the facility, he drove back home in silence. Every song that came on in his Dodge Charger reminded him of her. When he got home, he sat on their living room couch and cried his eyes out. He slept in the guest bedroom for weeks afterwards.

So, when she approached him seven months after she came home from Santa Clarita and told him she wanted to start trying for another baby, he was hesitant. He couldn’t see her put herself through that cycle of guilt and shame again.

“Jessica, are you sure this is something you want?”

They were sitting on the patio together, her legs thrown over his. He had a beer in his hand, and she had an old-fashioned glass bottle of cream soda. She did look better. Her skin was a healthy color, and she had put on enough weight that she looked healthy. She was eating better, staying hydrated. She was almost back to being the woman that Jake had married.

Almost. There was something stirring behind her eyes, just below the surface.

“Jake, I’m better now. I’m medicated, I’m emotionally stable. I know you feel like the bad guy for sending me, but the psych ward did wonders for me.”

Jake winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what it was. An inpatient mental health facility.”

“Psych ward just sounds so…rough. It was more like high-class rehab for people with mental health issues.”

“Jake, look at me.” She said sternly, resting a hand on his chest. “I want this. But more than that, I want this with you. Nobody else.”

Later that night, after a tender night spent pressed up against each other underneath cotton sheets, they lay next to each other in bed. Jessica had her legs up the wall, like the fertility websites she had spent the week reading had told her to do. Jake lay the opposite way, their faces meeting in the middle of the bed. She was mindlessly tracing shapes against his hairy chest, lost in thought.

“You’re going to be a phenomenal mother.” Jake said sincerely, taking her hand in his. “And this baby is going to be so loved.”

She met his gaze. “You really think we can do it?”

“I know we can. There’s nobody else I would want to bring a child into the world with but you, Jessica.”

Getting pregnant wasn’t easy either. Before long, it became a routine of ovulation calendars and fertility vitamins, as well as routine pregnancy tests. Five months of this routine went by before Jake brought up the elephant in the room and suggested they see a doctor, knowing full well that the LAPD’s insurance coverage didn’t apply to specialist doctors. Especially ones that dealt with fertility issues.

Jessica thought that it was her fault. That something had happened to her womb in the accident that would make it impossible for her to bear children. Four tests and three doctor’s appointments later, it turned out that she wasn’t the problem.

Jake was.

He blinked at the doctor, hand tightening around his wife’s. “I’m sorry, what? I’m not following.”

The doctor smiled sadly at him before reading the results again. “I’m afraid you have a low sperm count, Mr. Seresin. This could be why you’ve been having problems. Its not dangerously low in the sense that you wouldn’t be able to father a child, but it is low enough to be cause for concern. I understand you were able to conceive once before, and I see no reason that you wouldn’t be able to again. You just need a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

Two weeks later, he was still thinking about that conversation. It permeated every waking moment, including the mind-numbing hours spent in the passenger seat of Detective Bradley Bradshaw's battered Ford Edge, watching a laundromat that they knew was operating an illegal casino out of their upper floors.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t give his wife a baby?

“Kid, how much money have you already spent on this?” Bradley stared at him from behind his aviator sunglasses. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Its not covered by insurance,” Jake continued, picking at the band of his watch. “And we are thousands of dollars in outstanding invoices. I haven’t told Jessie. How can I? She’d make us stop going, and that would destroy her. She really wants this, Bradley.”

Bradley frowned, popping a cashew into his mouth. “How do you feel about moonlighting?”

Jake scoffed. “What, rent-a-cop private security gigs? Come on, man. I’m a goddamn detective. I don’t need to be doing all that.”

“And yet even on the salary of two second-tier detectives, you can’t afford your own medical bills.” Bradley pointed out. “Just come with me tonight, I’ll pick you up. Jessica doesn’t need to know about it.”

Jake had a bad feeling in his gut that this job wouldn’t be entirely legal. At the same time, he didn’t think he was in any position to be turning down paying work. That night, when he came home from work, Jessica was in the kitchen, lights dimmed low and Amy Winehouse playing from the stereo. She was still dressed in her blazer from work, hips swaying as she stirred the pan on the stove.

“God, baby, that smells incredible. What are you making.”

“Pasta with lamb sauce.” Jessie replied, not looking up from the pan. “Hey, I got you something. Can you open the white envelope I left on your plate?”

Jake left his leather jacket and boots in the front hallway, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before he kissed his wife on the side of the head and moved to open the envelope. He had half slid the contents out of the envelope when his heart slipped a beat.

“Jessica, are you really?”

Jessie switched off the stove, turning to gave her husband with a broad smile on her face. “We did it, Jake. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Jake broke into a smile, pulling the ultrasound picture the rest of the way out of the envelope. He thought he was going to tear up looking at the little image, his beautiful baby. “Come here.”

“Jake Seresin, are you crying?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around her husbands waist before leaning up to kiss him.

“Of course I’m fucking crying! We’re going to be parents! I’m so happy right now, honey.”

Laughing with glee, Jake leaned down to kiss his wife. Everything had been worth it. Even though he knew he was running out of time to pay off those invoices before the debt collectors showed up.

Even though he knew babies were expensive, and their expenses would soon start piling up.

Nothing else mattered, because he was going to be a father, and there was nothing Jake Seresin wouldn’t do to protect his family.

Bradley picked him up at eight that night. It was dark outside, the road ahead lit only by the detectives headlights. Bradley never said where they were going or what they were doing, and had shut down all of Jake’s attempts at conversation. The neighborhoods they were driving through were getting richer and richer, and that bad feeling Jake’s stomach continued to grow.

They didn’t park near the house, instead leaving the Ford one block away. Confused, Jake followed Bradley, taking long strides to try and keep up. Something felt off. If their work was above board, why did they park so far away, and why were they sneaking around late at night in Beverly Hills?

He watched as Bradley knocked on the door, the two detectives standing side by side on the large doorstep. As soon as the door opened, Bradley lashed out with a yell, punching the homeowner on the other side in the nose.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Jake shouted, following his partner into the entryway. “What is going on here?”

“Shut up.” Bradley snapped back, digging his phone out of his pocket. He crouched next to the bloodied homeowner, showing him something on his phone. Jake crept closer, trying to get a glimpse of the screen. Playing out on Bradley’s phone, the man in front of them was actively engaging in a threesome with two tall blondes. Given the angle of the recording, he didn’t know it was being filmed

Bradley looked towards one of the pictures in the front hall, showing that same man posing with a stunning Indian woman and their two children.

“I bet your wife and kids wouldn’t be too pleased to know that when you go out of town for a business trip, you’re actually going down to Hollywood to pay to get your dick sucked.”

the man was cowering on the floor, blood dripping onto the tile. “What do you want from me?” He shouted at Bradley.

Jake felt sick and started slowly backing away to the door. This was a side of Bradley he’s never seen before. One that sickened him. Yet somehow, he knew it had to have always been there. There was a reason Hollywoods vice cops had the highest corruption rates.

He just never thought he’d be adding to that statistic.

“Give me twenty grand, and the video gets deleted. Half of the money goes to me, the other half to my friend here.” Bradshaw nodded his head in Jake’s direction. “All cash, totally untraceable. We take gold too. Maybe a Rolex or two if you’ve got them lying around.”

“Man, enough.” Jake insisted. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Bradley glared at him. “Do you want to be able to pay your mortgage or not.”

“No. Not like this.”

“Well,” Bradley started, getting to his feet and kicking the unnamed man in the stomach. “You no longer have a choice.”

They left the house shrouded in an awkward silence. Jake’s hands were shaking, hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket. So many questions were running through his mind as they walked back to Bradley’s car.

“Man, I know it looked rough,” Bradley started “but we’re not doing anything wrong. That man is richer than god, and if he’s gonna cheat on his wife, we might as well get something out of it.”

“You literally beat him until he agreed to give you money, and then made me an accomplice!” Jake hissed. “I just found out my wife is pregnant, I can’t be running around doing shit like this!”

“And if you don’t want to watch your kid grow up from behind bars, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” Bradley huffed, shoving Jake backwards. “From now on, I own you.”

Jessie was asleep on the couch when Jake got home, a paperback book still clutched in her hands. He tried to be quiet as he came in through the front hall, but she stirred anyways.

“Jake,” she smiled. “You’re back. How’s Bradley?”

Jake shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to Jessie, but he was so ashamed of what he had seen that he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “He’s alright. Not much new there, I see him every day. How are you doing? You look exhausted.”

Jessie laughed, pulling the blanket she was wrapped in tighter around her shoulders. “I feel exhausted.”

“You’re doing everything for two now, sweetheart. It’s okay to take some time to rest.” Jake soothed, kissing her forehead gently. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you more, Jessica Seresin.”

Jake Seresin would do whatever it took to keep Jessie safe.

Whatever. It. Took.

Even if it meant being at Bradley Bradshaws beck and call.

#jake seresin x reader #love is a losing game series #top gun x reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman top gun x reader

32 notes · View notes

cal-daisies-and-briars · 7 months ago

Note

I’m so excited for the throuple fic Eddie and Shannon need to both get their man 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Buck you can figure this time loop thing out i believe in you ➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Bedsharing buddie they need to get their head out their pillows and realize how unhinged they are 🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

45 for 🔼:

---

“I know we need to actually talk about it, but I really love it,” Shannon explains, talking sort of rapidly. “And… I mean, I am the one making her. I let you consult on the first name, so-”

“I love it,” Eddie interjects.

Shannon stills. “You do?”

He nods. “I do.”

“Oh,” she exhales.

“Christopher and Jane,” Eddie tests the sound of it on his tongue. “Yep. Love it.”

Shannon smiles, wet-eyed. “See? He named our kid.”

Eddie takes her hand and squeezes it. “He won’t hold it against you, Shannon. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Thanks,” she sighs. “Uh, for everything.”

“You, too,” he smiles weakly.

“Is this the weirdest conversation we’ve ever had?” She asks.

Eddie considers.

“Nah. The second.”

“Second?”

“Nothing beats the argument you had with my mom over circumcision with our two day-old baby in the room.”

Shannon snorts. “Oh god, I forgot.”

“Yeah, and I never will.”

“I was right, though,” Shannon says adamantly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly. “You were right.”

▶️

It takes Eddie a little under an hour after that to get home. Shannon lets him take a quick shower, and then he drives back to the house. When he does, he finds the Jeep parked on the street, and Buck sitting on his porch steps, red-eyed.

Oh, jeez. Did Buck come here to confess? To a crime that doesn’t belong to him?

“Hey,” Eddie says as he climbs out of the truck. “What are you doing here?”

He knows. But he’s trying to play it cool.

---

48 for ➰:

⚠️DISCCUSION OF DEATH/DYING AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION⚠️

That’s certainly not the name of their hotel.

Buck mounts the clock and searches the name on his phone. Adventist Health Twin Cities is a nearby hospital in Templeton, California. With an ER and a neurology department.

Again, interesting.

He supposes it’s possible that the hospital sold things like clocks and other basic decor to the hotel… But it’s unlikely, right? Especially if this clock is connected to their time problem, it seems like something else must be afoot here.

Whatever.

Buck only has this one theory, and he has to trust it.

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on a big patio eating a complimentary hotel breakfast. Chris looks mildly zombified. Nevermind the fact he wakes up way earlier than this for school. Eddie is indulging in a very big breakfast. He’s practically dumping sugar in his coffee. Buck has the urge to remind him he won’t sleep, but doesn’t follow it.

Buck eats his waffles, trying to be content with this final breakfast. He’s glad they didn’t do a drive-thru. It’s really a shame he won’t be able to taste the sea bass tonight. That shit is delicious when you don’t have a brain bleed.

He looks out at the serenely gorgeous view of the ocean. The early morning light only makes it all the more fantastic. Their slice of heaven in purgatory.

Buck remembers what he said the first time.

“We should come back here again.”

Eddie looks at him for a long time. There’s a rueful quality to the glint in his eyes.

“Anytime you want,” he says, voice a little shaky.

He’s still trying to figure Buck out.

Buck hopes he won’t.

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

They go on the guided kayaking tour of the estuary. Thankfully, Buck has practice in knowing what’s going to happen, and allowing it anyway.

He doesn’t tease Brittany this time. Doesn’t play any games or act like a smart ass. He just enjoys the day.

“If you’re really lucky, we’ll see sea slugs!” Brittany exclaims as they get into their kayaks. “We have opalescent nudibranch slugs all over and the colors they come in are amazing. They’re beautiful!”

“I think it’s really cool that you’re so passionate,” Buck tells her.

They help Chris into his kayak, and then Eddie calmly and expertly explains the best way to paddle. Buck doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t make any quips. Seems cruel now, in hindsight. Eddie probably fucking hates kayaking. Buck sure does.

The tour goes as well as always. They see the seals, sea lions, and otters. They spot some of those famous sea slugs.

---

Sweet talk is posted for 48 for anything else????

#daisies and briars writes #time likes pulling my teeth fic #buddie shannon throuple

12 notes · View notes

sanvirtheobserver · 10 months ago

Text

Taking Flight, Chapter 26: Rocky Road Rumble

The night sky is alight with the full moon. The cool desert air blows past the War Rig as it makes its way across the Rocky Roads. Jax, Mario, Luigi, and Kinger are all in the main cabin while Saturday and Ragatha sit atop its roof, remaining vigilant as the others wait in the trailer.

Jax: See anything, ladies?

Saturday: Nothing yet. Ragatha?

Ragatha: All clear on my end.

Mario: I'm-a tired.

Luigi: Why don't we pass the time with some games?

Kinger: Ooh, I'll go first! I spy with my little eye..................................

Luigi: Uh........ Kinger?

Jax: Give him a minute.

Kinger: .................. Oh hey there, Luigi.

Back in the trailer, we see the others making some small talk. The trailer itself is surprisingly comfy apart from the balcony mounted guns.

Uzi: And THAT is why you should never bring up doors around my dad.

Meggy: Wow, he sounds quite........ interesting.

Uzi: Yeah, he's been like that ever since my mom died. Still, he tries his best.

Tari: Do you still stay in touch?

Uzi: I call him on the phone booth sometimes to let him know I'm still kicking.

Tari: Hm...... I wonder how some of my old caretakers are doing. Maybe I should call them up too, sometime.

Saiko: Eh, parents are a bit overrated for my taste. For the longest time Kaizo was the only one who actually gave a shit about me. My parents probably don't even care that I'm not in my game anymore.

Meggy: What about you, Pomni?

Pomni: To be honest, most of my previous life before the Circus is just a blurr. Sometimes I doubt my parents even HAD faces..........I do vaguely remember having two older sisters, though.

Ragatha: EYES UP, PEOPLE! WE GOT COMPANY!

Barreling down just behind the rig is a warband of Gummy Bear Bandits riding Gingerbread Jeeps and Rocky Road Bikes. Leading the charge is the Syrup Tanker manned by Gummigoo and his brothers Max and Chad.

Gummigoo: LET'S SHOW EM WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THESE SNACKS BITE BACK!

Some of the bandits flank both sides of the Rig, unleashing a hail of bullets from their Coachguns and revolvers. Everyone ducks for cover as Tari quickly makes some barriers to deflect the oncoming gunfire. Ragatha casts some thread and ties herself a lasso, which she uses to snag one of the bandits and hurl him around like a wrecking ball. He slams into one of the bikes, sending it and its riders tumbling across the roads. Saturday deflects some gunfire with her lances before sending one straight through a bandit's heart. Tari pushes the barriers outwards and sends the rest of the wave flying away from the Rig as another catches up. Meggy and Uzi quickly get to the mounted chaser guns and begin unloading into every Bike and Jeep they see.

Meggy: COME GET SOME, WOOOOOO!!!!

Uzi: TAKE A BITE OUTTA THIS!!!!

One of the Jeeps manages to catch up with the Rig, allowing a few bandits to come aboard. One of them pops the top hatch open but is met with a hammer straight to the face as Saiko hauls herself onto the upper balcony. Ragatha notices the bandits brandishing their machetes as they charge Saiko, who manages to bat two of them off the Rig. One manages to land a slash on her side and readies to take her head, but is stopped by a cleaver slicing him in two. Ragatha casts the bandit's body aside and helps Saiko back up to her feet.

Ragatha: You good?

Saiko: Yeah. It's just a flesh wound.

Another bandit tries to attack, but Kinger pops up from the sunroof to save the day.

Kinger: RAGATHA, GRAB THIS!

He tosses a life preserver right over their heads. The bandit is confused for a moment, which gives Ragatha a chance to cleave him into pieces.

Ragatha: Thanks for the save, Kinger!

Mario: Mario wants to help too!

Mario then opens the door and tumbles out of the Rig, taking out another pair of bikes before catching a convenient rope. Looks like that life preserver hooked onto the back hitch of the trailer. He then uses some of that "Style Fu" to dodge some oncoming rocks.

Jax: Heads up, A-holes!

Jax pulls a lever labeled with a cherry sticker, opening a compartment on the back of the trailer. A cluster of Cherry Bombs tumble out of the compartment, whizzing by Mario and exploding upon impact with those who couldn't get out of the way in time. That's when Jax spots a rough stretch of land.

Jax: EVERYBODY HANG ON TO SOMETHING! WE'RE TAKING A LITTLE DETOUR!

He pulls another lever and extends the Rig's suspension as he swerves towards the rougher terrain. Mario cranks it into high gear as he continues to dodge the rocks. The bandits still follow suit, but not all of them fare as well as roughly half of them end up crashing into either the rocks or each other. The Tanker and Jeeps seem to have little issue though.

Luigi: JAX, THEY'RE GAINING ON US!

Jax grabs Luigi and plops him down on the driver's seat as he pulls something out from the backseat.

Jax: I'll be right back.

One of Jeeps is about to catch up to the tanker until it's obliterated by Jax and his Heavy Cola Cannon.

Jax: YEAH, NOW WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE!

He crawls out from the sunroof and starts laying waste to the rest of the Jeeps as Gummigoo and Chad look on from the driver's cabin of the Tanker.

Chad: Boss, I think we should cut our losses and get outta here while we still can.

That's when he hears several loud pops from the back. He looks out to see Tari flying behind the Tanker as Pomni hurls prismatic spikes at its tires. He grabs his rifle and takes aim, but before he can shoot he hears something land on the roof and feels something yank him up by the scruff of his neck.

Saturday: You miss me, Gums?

He flips out of her grasp and onto the roof before drawing his machete. The two fiercely clash blades as Tari and Pomni continue to attack the tires. Meanwhile, Meggy tries to pull Mario back on board when Kinger suddenly comes rushing in with an anchor.

Kinger: MARIO, GRAB THIS!

He tosses the anchor, nearly missing Mario and causing Chad to swerve out of the way to avoid getting hit. Saturday falls atop Gummigoo and the two end up in a VERY awkward position.

Meggy: Uh, Kinger....... is that tied to anything important?

Kinger: Hm..... Let me check.

As uf on cue the Rig suddenly grinds to a halt, and Chad swerves to avoid a collision. Gummigoo and Saturday both fall off of the Tanker as it spins out and grinds to a halt. Tari and Pomni land nearby and regroup with Saiko, Ragatha, Meggy, and Mario.

Ragatha: Pomni! Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?

Pomni: Ragatha, I'm fine. Really.

Tari: She was a big help, actually. Now the Tanker is out of commission without its tires.

Mario: YEAH! Mario wants to go again! My feet are a bit sore, though.

Tari notices Saiko holding a bloody towel to her side.

Tari: Oh my God, what happened!?

Saiko: Oh, this? It's nothing serious.

Tari: B-but you're bleeding!

Saiko: It's just a flesh wound, I'll-

Tari Are you dizzy!? Do you need water!?

Saiko: TARI. I'm fine, really. It's just a flesh wound.

Kinger: SAIKO, GRAB THIS!

Kinger then tosses a first aid kit that lands right beside the two.

Tari: Thanks, Kinger. Saiko, please.

Tari has Saiko sit down on a nearby rock, and she reluctantly lets Tari tend to her injuries. Meanwhile, Mario and Meggy approach the Tanker as Chad and Max pop their heads out to search of Gummigoo. Meggy raises her bowgun at the two.

Meggy: Don't you two try anything stupid.

Chad: Have any of you seen the Captain by any chance?

Max: He couldn't have landed too far.

Both groups find Saturday sitting atop Gummigoo, pinning him down by the wrists.

Saturday: Are you all just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me tie him up?

Gummigoo: Oh, by all means, take your time! I wouldn't wanna miss out on such a *lovely* view.

Saturday: Ugh, you're such a pig.

Gummigoo: Actually, I'm a gator. Big difference.

She just replies with a well-deserved punch to his snout.

#smg4 au #smg4 #smg4 tari #tadc #murder drones #smg4 fanfic

5 notes · View notes

lit-works · 2 years ago

Text

City in Darkness Pt.1 : Flying horses

I swing through the brightly lit canyons of New York City on a single strand of webbing. Below me the city is ablaze with light, from the powerful spotlights framing it's most famous buildings to the soft glow of hundreds of street lamps and apartment windows. It is clearly summer and the warm weather has most of the population outdoors. Couples stroll along the sidewalks, stopping to watch street performers. Executives out on the town hail taxis bound for the theater district. Musicians sound out hot, muggy tones on saxes and clarinets, providing the soundtrack for the small-time hustlers plying the crowd with games and wagers.

I have a bird's-eye view of it all. Or in my case, a Spider's-eye view. I swing down the street, high above the bustle, my weblines arching from their special wrist-mounted shooters, providing a set of strands to carry me from skyscraper to skyscraper. I've gotta get across town fast–a meeting with the Daily Bugle editor Robert Robertson was supposed to start five minutes ago, and lateness is not a virtue looked for in freelance photographers. Not even when Jolly James Jonah Jameson was in charge.

Of course, when it absolutely, positively has to get there overnight, Web-Slinger express is the only way to travel.

I hit a break between buildings where my lines might not reach the next tall structure. Rather than risk missing a shot and wasting web fluid, I tuck into a roll, straighten at the last instant, and make a perfect two-point landing on a movie marquee.

"Hey, it's Spider-Man!" Shouts a voice from the crowd below. Heads turn and I feel the warm gaze of the admiring public.

"Wow!"

"Cool!"

"I thought he was from a comic book?!"

"George, get out your phone!"

Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a celebrity superhero. Adored by millions, or at least hundreds, capable of stunts only dreamed of by mere mortal men, in reality mild-mannered camera hound Peter–

"Ya lousy bum!"

The last comment breaks through my reverie and catches me by surprise. Not the words of an admirer, even in New York. I scan the crowd below to spy my detractor.

"Yeah, you, Spider-bitch! You're a damned menace to society! I read about it in the Bugle! Jameson says your a crook!" The heckler is a nondescript man, about 30, wearing a tan jacket and a Mets cap. I could pass this guy on the street without ever noticing him.

Beneath my mask, I frown deeply. Ok, Spider-Man, do you really wanna take this kind of grief, or do you wanna teach this loudmouth a lesson?

"According to The Daily Bugle, Ant-Man is the Hulk's tailor," I shout back, already shooting my next web-line. "And if you believe that, there's this bridge I want to sell you." A ripple of laughter runs through the gathering crowd, leaving the heckler red and fuming.

Unwilling to spend a beautiful summer evening arguing with a heckler, I swing off, climbing the web-line as I go.

I only get about a half a block away when I hear the loud, dull whumpph of an explosion nearby. The explosion is followed by the chatter of gunfire, mixed with an electric crackle that sounds like a high-schools science experiment gone wild.

Rob Robertson will have to wait. Something has come up–something that requires the presence of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

The shots are coming from near by. Swinging around the corner, I get the full picture from three stories above street level.

The center of the street is blocked by an overturned armored vehicle. The truck bears an insignia of a blue horse's head, but otherwise looks like standard US government issue. The truck's massive rear door has been blown off it's hinges and is laying nearby. Army Jeeps, also with the blue horse-head symbol, are pulled over in front and rear of the truck–apparently escorts for whatever was inside the truck.

The occupants of the Jeeps, men and women dressed in blue uniforms, have piled out and are using the vehicles for cover. Their attackers are across the street, crouched in an alleyway: two men, dressed in green body suits, armed with massive weapons that resemble WWII bazookas. These weapons are the source of the unearthly crackling I heard earlier, and the pair are firing random bolts of yellowish lightning at the guards in the Jeeps, keeping them pinned down.

The smoke from the fight clears for a moment, and I see in neat lettering beneath the symbol on the truck, the word: "PEGASUS". Good Gravy! The boys and girls in blue are from Project: PEGASUS.

Project: PEGASUS is an alternate energy source project located in upstate New York, funded by the state department of energy. In the past, the project has investigated alternate forms of energy derived from super-powered criminals, a number of which are former foes of mine. An empty armored truck does not bode well. At least I know who's team I'm on. Whoever would try to knock over an armored truck belonging to PEGASUS has to be up to no good.

I'm not sure why these two groups chose a crowded New York city street to fight in, but it's apparent the guys in green are not too worried about inflicting civilian casualties. This looks like a job tailor-made for the web-slinging wonder, and it might also be a good time to make a few bucks shooting Spider-Man in action.

I find a likely-looking ledge nearby and, drawing my camera out from my belt, mount it firmly with a dab of webbing. I activate the automated timer to continuously snap shots at 5-second intervals.

All these actions come automatically, smoothly developed over years of taking pictures of myself in action. These pictures, sold first to Jameson and the to Robertson at The Daily Bugle, have supplemented my income over the years, and are now my main source of ready cash.

I watch the unfolding battle and notice that the guys in the blue jumpsuits from PEGASUS are taking a pounding from their attackers. There doesn't seem to be a lot of movement from around the truck, one of those heavily armored monsters favored by the military, but fortunately there are no dead bodies, either. The guys with the lightning-firing bazookas look like members of HYDRA, but the green on their uniforms is too washed-out and they are missing the distinctive armband. Could some other flaky subversive group with bad taste have picked up these outfits at a rummage sale and decided to blow up government vehicles?

My fashion analysis is forgotten as my Spider-Sense, the heightened extra-sensory perception that warns me or immediate danger, kicks into full gear. One of the goons in the alley has spotted me, and the way my Spider-Senses are tingling in my head tell me he's got me lined up in his crosshairs.

I dodge out of the way at the last moment, as a massive bolt of electricity carves an equally large gash out of the brick wall, just inches away from my camera. If I wasn't sure before that the guys with the heavy artillery are the bad guys, that little bit of hate mail convinces me. Not only are these fellas dangerous, they're downright unfriendly. Could it be they're friends of that loudmouthed Mets fan, or at least be listening to the same podcasts and reading the same editorials?

My dodging drops me down to just above street level. One of the PEGASUS guards spots me and waves me away. "Get back!!" She shouts, "it's dangerous around here!"

"Surely you jest!" I snap back. "It's more dangerous trying to catch a cab when the theaters and bars let out than this little garden party." I'm too low to web up the bad guys without catching some innocent bystanders. My best move would be to try to get in between the two thugs.

I tense my muscles to leap across the street.

Flexing the muscles that give me the proportional strength and agility of a spider, I leap into the fray. A bolt of energy sears across the street, blasting through the wall directly behind me.

If I'd hung around there, I'd be a crispy critter for sure.

I somersault through the air and over the line of PEGASUS guards.

"Hold your fire, ladies and gents!" I shout, bouncing off the hood of the nearest Jeep. "Perforating my uniform with lead violates the warranty and will mess up your civil service record something fierce!"

A blast of lightning-like forces ionizes the air on top of the Jeep where I stood just moments before. Before the flash has dimmed I'm across the street, directly above the goons.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you guys don't like me. You've been reading the editorials in the Bugle, haven't you?" I quip, as I drop between them. "If you surrender now, I'll arrange for Jameson to visit your cell."

"Eat shock-zooka, webspinner!" Says the thug on my right as he fires a blast from his futuristic weapon.

"Shock-zooka!!" I laugh, dodging the fiery blast. "You'd think the people who use these deadly gadgets would at least come up with an original name for them! Sounds like a monster that fought Godzilla for Tokyo."

Before the thug can get in another shot, I rush him, grabbing the battery-operated bazooka and ripping it from his grasp. The goon on my left, a little dumpier than the other, watches in wonderment, muttering "He moves so fast." The second goon seems so amazed by my speed he has forgotten to aim his own weapon at me.

"You guys are just slow as snails," I taunt, lashing out with both arms at the assailants, "And now it's nighty-night time Shnooky-Ookums!"

I catch both goons flush on the jaw. The weapons clatter to the ground, and I'm left the only one standing in the alley.

So why is my Spidey-Sense still ringing in my ears like a three-alarm fire? I scan the empty alleyway, and no one is there. Not even any garbage or trash cans. A suspiciously well-kept New York alley…

Except for that manhole…

My Spidey-Sense shifts to a frantic pitch, and I realize the danger is from the manhole itself! Something nasty's down there, and I don't think I want to be here to find out what it is!

I leap straight up into the air, reaching for a fire-escape ladder hanging twenty feet up. I am no less than halfway towards my goal when the shockwave of an explosion sends me flying even higher! The booming thunderclap comes from below, and the walls shake as flames jet out the mouth of the manhole. The ground is shattered into a crazy quilt of broken asphalt.

The darkness of the alley is brilliantly lit for a half a heartbeat. The ground heaves and cracks run through the walls. I am thrown clear of the mouth of the alley and only avoid injury from a jagged piece of broken flying pipe by curling into a rolling crouch.

I land on the overturned security truck. Smoke drifts through the alleyway. My two playmates are sprawled out at the mouth of the alley. Guards from the PEGASUS protect are already checking them, while others are moving down the alley itself. A tall blonde woman in a blue jumpsuit stands in the midst of the scene, barking orders. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she seems to be taking the entire situation, explosion included, as a personal affront.

"Get down that alley!" She shouts at a pair of men, "try to find them!"

"Find who?" I ask, jumping down next to her. She glances at me sideways long enough to know that I am still among the living, but doesn't reply. Find who?! I still want to know. I thought I already took care of the crooks involved.

One of the guards approaches me and the blond woman. "I've contacted the NYPD. Paramedics are en route. There's an APB out for 'em."

"All-points Bulletin?! Who are you looking for?" I ask, but again receive no answer. "I only saw two goons. How many more were there?"

Another guard comes out of the alley. "Explosion in the sewers, ma'am. Awful mess. Must've been an arms depot or something. No sign of them. They must have had a vehicle waiting at the other end of the alley."

"Now wait just a minute!" I shout, turning around to face the head honcho. "Who is missing? Who got away? Who are you looking for?"

She stares at me for a moment, as if I just wandered on to the scene."I suppose you would need to know," she says. "You missed seeing them take him away."

"Let's just say, given the fact that I almost had my head handed to me by thugs with sci-fi blasters, I'm more than mildly curious." Mentally, I am counting to ten.

"We were escorting a prisoner from project headquarters to a parole hearing when we were ambushed." She explained. "The prisoner's name is Maxwell Dillon. You probably know him as Electro."

ELECTRO!

Early in my career as the webspinning wonder I first crossed paths with Maxwell Dillon, better known as the villainous Electro. A freak bolt of lightning transformed him from a lineman for Consolidated Edison into a master of living electricity, who promptly turned his newfound talents to crime. Each time he has gone on a rampage, I have hunted him down and caught him, and each time he has found a way to escape.

A wave of rage washes through me. To be so close and let him get away! Electro has never been one to learn his lesson, or even to lie low for a little bit. He'll be around, looking for revenge! And until he makes his move, me and all the people around Spider-Man are targets.

"Spider-Man?" The commander of the PEGASUS security force intrudes on my thoughts, "I would like to thank you for your help. When these guys recover we'll be sure to get some answers out of them."

"Right," I say, shaking my head. "But by that time, Electro will be miles away."

She shrugs her shoulders. "We do the best we can, when we can. Look, these clowns are going to St.Arbogast's Hospital. Is there somewhere you can be reached when they come to?"

"I'll be around."

"Have it your way, then," she says, nodding, "if you have problems, tell them Captain Nash sent you." With that she turns away and starts shouting at her troops. "You men! Clear those Jeeps out of the way! Let's let those ambulances in! Bashfield! You and Lawson help set up the barriers. Have the police brass arrived yet?!"

Just wonderful. Electro on the loose and all I caught werr a couple of small fry. To top it all off, Peter Parker is even later for that meeting. Some days, as the rabbit said, you shoulda stood in bed.

I leap atop the overturned truck, bouncing off the PEGASUS emblem. At the high point of the leap, I loose a single strand of webbing, mooring it against a handy flagpole jutting out from the Empire State Building three stories above me.

Twisting my body, I swing up to the highest point, then fire another strand, and in this fashion swing off into the night, hoping to make it to the Bugle before Robbie gives up hope on me. Behind me, the whine of the police sirens and the shouts of captain Nash are lost in the ambient city noise.

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel characters #comic books #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #l1t3rat1 #my fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker #j jonah jameson #electro #pegasus #marvel fanfic series #aunt may

3 notes · View notes