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leesleelee · 21 days ago

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Undercover Connection.

Billy hargrove x mechanic! male reader.

You, a senior in highschool works at Hawkins local mechanic shop, where Billy brings his Camaro for repair after a particularly reckless night. But your calm demeanor intrigues him.

CW: strong language, mild violence, implied abuse, smoking, emotional vulnerability, tense situations, minor injury(s), soft romance.

word count: 3,163

Sometimes the people you meet are a blessing or a lesson learned.

You were quiet but you were also skilled. This is how you got a part-time job at the Hawkins mechanic. Being reliable and skillful was rare, like a blessing.

People knew you were reliable with cars, and also keeping things to yourself. Preferring the quiet hum of engines over the noise of high school drama.

Your quiet demeanor is nothing compared to Billy Hargrove. He was hot-headed. Unbearable. Reckless. You two were complete opposites.

It was a Friday after school, the sun was hotter than usual. It felt unbearable, every sweat that went down your face felt like a bullet. Your face read nothing, like it always was.

But your brain was a jumple of thoughts clashing into each other.

You were working on an old pick up truck. You were too busy on tightening the bolt on the old pick up truck.

As you were too focused on working on the truck, the bell above the garage door jingles sharply, cutting through the rhythmtic hum of tools and clanking metal.

You notice Billy Hargrove stride in. But your attention was focused on working on the truck. Why should you give all of your attention on some dick head at school? Yes, Billy Hargrove was very pretty. His plump lips wrapped around his cigarette made you question things.

But that doesn't make up the fact he's a reckless selfish dick.

Billy's usual cocky smirk was plastered all over his face. Even though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. His Camaro sat just outside, steam rising faintly from the hood, a testament from his reckless driving.

Behind the counter, you barely glanced up, you were busy with the truck. The sound of heavy boots approaching didn't faze you.

"If you're here for a quick fix, you're out of luck. I'm the only one working today, and I've got three cars ahead of yours."

This catches Billy's attention, making the curly head pause by the indifferent tone. Most people in Hawkins either flinch or try to hard to please him, but you? You don't even seem to care.

"Yeah well, my car's not exactly running right now, so you'll have to make time. Can't have Hawkins' bad boy walking everywhere, can we?" Billy sharply said as he leaned against the counter, smirking.

This makes you finally look up, raising a eyebrow as he takes in the sight of Billy. The infamous mullet that is a dirty blonde color, leather jacket, fluffy curls, pretty blue eyes, and a perpetual smirk. Everything about him just screams trouble.

You can tell he is obviously impatient.

You spoke up dryly, "Bad boy or not, your Camaro is not special. You're getting in line like everyone else." You said as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. He was starting to get on your nerves.

"What, you don't think my 'baby deserves VIP treatment?" Billy responsed to you, in a mocking tone.

You shrugged and turned back to the truck, "Your 'baby' looks like it got into a fight with a tree." You mocked at Billy back.

"Be glad I'm not telling you to scrap it." Billy just rolled his eyes at your mocking. He let out a sharp laugh, more genuine than he expected. He steps closer, peering over your shoulder as you worked.

"What's your deal, huh? You always this charming, or just saving it for me?"

"Just for you. Now either tell me what's wrong with your Camaro or find another shop." You said as you were still focused.

Billy felt his eyes narrow in response, but he doesn't argue. He's not used to being brushed off like this, and he isn't sure if this annoys him or intrigues him.

Billy started to grumble. "Engines overheating. Won't stay running for more than five minutes."

As Billy said this, you finally set down your wrench, wiping your hands on a rag in a fast motion. You step out behind the counter, motioning for Billy to follow him to the car.

"Pop the hood. Let's see if I can save this piece of junk."

Billy watches you approach the Camaro with ease that rivals his own confidence. For the first time in a while, Billy feels like he's not the one in control, and he's not sure if he minds it.

The Camaro’s hood is popped, and the garage is filled with the faint smell of oil and overheated metal. You leaned over the engine, flashlight in hand, while Billy stands off to the side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the scene in front of him.

“When’s the last time you checked the coolant?” You said as you were focused on the engine.

Billly shrugged again in response, “What, you think I keep track of that stuff?”

You smirked faintly. “Yeah, I can tell. This thing’s running on fumes and bad decisions.” You responded, amused.

Billy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the workbench, Billy grinned.

“You’re real mouthy for a mechanic.”

You shot Billy a glance

“You’re real cocky for someone who can’t keep his car running.”

Billy lets out a short laugh at you, surprised by the quick comeback. He picks up a wrench from the workbench, spinning it in his hand absentmindedly.

“You always this pleasant, or is it just my lucky day?”

“Depends. You always this much of a pain?” You added as you returned to the engine, not missing a beat

Billy chuckles, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, there’s an unspoken truce in the air. He watches as you methodically works on his car, the faint glow of the flashlight catching on the streaks of grease smudged across their cheek.

Your hair sat perfectly on you as you worked effortlessly on his car. How could someone look great while having such a, dirty job?

Billy paused for a while, “You’re good at this.”

You glanced up at him, startled by the unexpected compliment. But then you shrugged.

“Had to be. This town doesn’t exactly offer much else.”

Billy shifts, his cocky demeanor fading slightly.

“Tell me about it.” Billy added as he leaned against his car.

The garage falls into a quiet rhythm the hum of tools, the faint tapping of raindrops starting to hit the roof, and the occasional creak of the workbench as Billy leans against it.

After a while, Billy breaks the silence.

“You ever think about leaving? Like, just packing up and getting the hell out of here?”

You started to pause, glancing at Billy.

“Sure. All the time. But it’s not that simple, is it?” You said as you looked straight at him.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in your eyes.

“No. It’s not.” Billy responded softly.

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet desperation that you recognize but doesn’t push. Instead, they offer a small, knowing smile and return to the task at hand.

“Well, if you ever figure out a way, let me know. I could use a ride out of here too.” You added as you chuckled.

Billy doesn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Billy said as he quieted down.

The moment lingers, and for the first time, Billy feels like someone understands what he’s been carrying.

—-

Over the past few days, Billy returns to the shop under the pretense of checking his car, though it's pretty clear he just wants an excuse to talk to you.

You're guys' conversations start out casual but then gradually start to turn more personal. And you start to notice that Billy begins to let his guard down. Which surprises' you.

The big bad boy starting to be vulnerable to you? And you guys aren't even friends..

The rain has grown heavier, pounding against the roof of the garage in a steady rhythm. You start wiping grease from your hands with a rag while Billy sits on the workbench, idly spinning a screwdriver in his fingers. The Camaro is still half-repaired, but the tools have been set aside for the night.

It is a Tuesday after school, and a storm started not too long ago.

“Guess you’re stuck here for a bit. That storm’s not letting up anytime soon.” You broke the ice as you glanced at the rain.

Billy leans back and faintly smirks. “What, you offering to babysit me now?”

You shrug, leaning against the counter “Just saying. Unless you wanna swim home, you might as well get comfortable.”

Billy chuckles softly, but it doesn’t carry the usual bite. For a moment, he just watches the rain, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Y’know… sometimes I think about driving until I run out of gas. Just… keep going until I’m somewhere else.” Billy said quietly.

You start to study him, sensing the weight behind the words.

“What’s stopping you?”

Billy’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, gripping the edge of the bench.

“Neil.” Billy pauses, then adds bitterly, “And all the other crap tying me to this place.”

You decide not to push, recognizing the name as Billy’s stepfather. Instead, you let the silence stretch, giving Billy space to continue if he wants.

Billy broke the long pause

“It’s like… no matter how hard I try to get ahead, he’s always there to remind me I’m nothing.”

You cross the room and lean against the bench beside him, your shoulder just brushing Billy’s.

“You’re not nothing. He just wants you to believe that so you don’t fight back.” You said softly.

Billy looks at you sharply, his defenses rising instinctively, but you don't flinch. Your calm, steady gaze unnerves him in a way he doesn’t understand.

Billy scoffs.“What do you know about it?”

“More than you think.” You responded as you shrugged.

Billy opens his mouth to retort but stops himself. There’s something in your tone an unspoken understanding that keeps him from snapping back. Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you even talking to me? Most people either hate me or keep their distance.”

You started to grin.“Maybe I’m not most people.”

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the tension in his shoulders eases slightly.

“You’re weird.” Billy said muttering.

You started to smirk.

“Takes one to know one.”

The rain continues to fall, and for a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic drumming on the roof. You lean your head back against the wall, glancing sideways at Billy.

“You’re allowed to let your guard down, y’know. At least for a little while.” You spoke up gently.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. He wants to argue, to brush off the comment, but instead, he just nods slightly.

Billy decided to speak up, barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs in the air, charged but quiet. Billy’s usual bravado is gone, replaced by something raw and real.

"Here." You said as took out something out of your jeans pockets. It was a pack of cigarettes. This catches Billy's attention as you also pull out a lighter.

As Billy watches you light the cigarette, he also watches as you press the cigarette to your lips. Making Billy feel something weird inside of him. It felt like his body was on fire. A fire that he could not put out.

His gaze starts to linger on you. There was a fleeting moment of unspoken attraction.

As the silence continues, Billy stares into your eyes as you stare into his pretty blue ones. You looked at Billy fondly as you puffed smoke out of your lips.

Billy then snatched the cigarette out of your hands, looking at your beautiful (color) eyes as he took a drag. This sudden movement catches you off guard, but in a good way. It felt like he set something off in you.

Your left hand goes and twirls in Billy's dirty blonde curls. Watching him take more drags on your cigarette, making you grin for a second.

The silence was loud, but it felt amazing.

The rain has slowed to a steady drizzle, but neither of them has made a move to leave the garage. Billy sits on the edge of the workbench, fiddling with a lighter he pulled from his jacket pocket. You lean against the counter across from him, arms crossed as you watch Billy with quiet curiosity.

You decide to break the silence. “So, what’s your plan? Gonna sit there all night, or are you actually gonna say what’s on your mind?”

Billy glances up sharply, the lighter snapping shut in his hand.

“Who says anything’s on my mind?”

“Your whole vibe, Hargrove. You’re like a radio stuck on static.” You said smirking faintly.

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?”

You shrug “I try.”

There’s a beat of silence before Billy speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“It’s just… different, alright? Most people look at me and either hate my guts or try to get something out of me. But you? You don’t even flinch. Why?” Billy said as he looked at you, confused.

You start to tilt your head, studying him for a moment.

“Because I don’t think the guy you show everyone else is the real you. You’re just good at pretending.” You responded calmly.

Billy freezes, the lighter in his hand forgotten. He looks away, his jaw tightening.

Billy spoke up defensely. “You don’t know me.”

“No. But I want to.”

Billy’s head snaps back toward you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of mockery. But all he finds is quiet sincerity, and it throws him off balance.

Billy gruffed, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

This just made you grin in response.

“Probably.”

The tension between you too is palpable now, the air thick with unspoken words. Billy fidgets with the lighter again, his usual cocky demeanor slipping further away.

Billy started to hesitate.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this. The whole… opening up thing.”

You step closer, closing the space between the two of you. You lean against the workbench beside Billy, their shoulder brushing his.

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just… start with what you’re feeling right now.” You added, gently.

Billy’s gaze drops to the floor, his fingers tightening around the lighter.

Billy responded quietly, “I feel like I’m falling apart. Like I’m trying so damn hard to hold everything together, but it’s never enough.”

You didn't say anything right away, letting Billy’s words hang in the air. Instead, you reach out and place a hand on his, stopping the nervous movement of the lighter.

“You’re stronger than you think, Billy. You just don’t have to do it alone anymore.” You said with a firm tone.

Billy’s breath catches, his usual mask cracking wide open. He turns to face you fully, his blue eyes flickering with a mix of uncertainty and something deeper.

Billy, almost whispered, “Why do you care?”

“Because I see you. The real you."

Billy saw you smile faintly.

The words hang between you two for a moment before Billy leans in, hesitating just inches away from you.

“Tell me to stop.” Billy said softly.

You met his gaze. “I’m not gonna.”

That’s all the permission Billy needs. He closes the gap, his lips crashing against you in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender. For a moment, the world outside the garage—the rain, the town, everything—fades away.

When you two pull back, Billy’s breathing is unsteady, his forehead resting against your own.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Billy said quietly.

You just grinned at this.

“Takes one to know one.”

Billy laughs softly, his hand still lingering on theirs. For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels grounded.

---

Days have past and the rain has stopped, and the first hints of dawn are peeking over the horizon. The garage is quiet except for the occasional clink of tools as you finish tightening the last bolt on Billy’s Camaro. Billy leans against the car, watching them with an expression that’s unusually soft.

You, wiping your hands on a rag speaks up,

“Alright, she’s good to go. Don’t push her too hard, though. She’s not as indestructible as you think.”

“You talking about the car or me?”. Billy responded to you as he smirked.

You grinned.

“Both.”

Billy laughs, a sound that feels lighter than usual, and you can’t help but smile back. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence comfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, y’know.” Billy said quietly as this catches you off guard but you shrug.

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to.”

Billy steps closer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“Why?” Billy said softly.

You paused for a moment, meeting his gaze.

“Because I think there’s more to you than what everyone sees. And because… I care about you, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”

Billy’s expression falters, vulnerability flickering across his face.

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” Billy added as he almost whispered.

You reach out, brushing your fingers against his.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again. And again. As many times as it takes.”

Billy exhales sharply, almost like a laugh, and squeezes their hand.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” Billy said as he looked into your eyes, smiling. A genuine smile.

You grinned at this.

“You’re probably right. But I’m not going anywhere, so you’re stuck with me.”

Billy shakes his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Guess I’ll have to make it worth your while, then.”

The Camaro gleams under the faint light of the garage as Billy pulls the keys from his pocket and tosses them in the air.

“C’mon. Get in.” Billy said smiling

You raised an eyebrow “What?”

“You said you wanted out of this town, right? Let’s go. Just for a drive.” Billy said as he stared right into your pretty eyes.

You start to hesitate for a moment, surprised by the offer, but then you smile and grab your jacket.

“Alright, but if your car breaks down again, you’re the one fixing it this time.”

Billy grinned. “Deal.”

You climb into the Camaro, the engine roaring to life as Billy revs it. You glance over at him, the streetlights reflecting in his eyes, and for the first time, Billy looks free.

As they pull out of the garage and onto the open road, the town fades into the background. The sky is painted with streaks of orange and pink, and the cool morning air rushes in through the windows.

You smiled, “Where are we going?”

Billy glanced over at you. “Anywhere but here.”

You lean back in the seat, the weight of the night lifting as they drive toward an uncertain future together.

---

Credits: my Billy border is made by me but the rose border is made by kodaswrld!! Go and support them🩷

#top male reader #eddie munson #max mayfield #steve harrington #will byers #dom male reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x male reader #fluff #gn reader #x reader

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venusincleo · 16 days ago

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𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.

⁰¹. ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ.

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Giselle Knowles x Terry Richmond, fluff, angst.

Summary: In which Giselle Knowles is the graceful yet saditty and highly successful hairstylist known as GiGi, and Terrance Richmond or TJ, is the reliable and sought after town mechanic. Their five year old friendship is filled with a long lasting crush that TJ is too invested in to abandon, and an attraction that makes it hard for Gi to stick to her guns about not wanting anything romantic with him. But, one day, when she needs someone to confide in, TJ gets a chance to show her that age ain’t nothing but a number.

Word Count: 2.6k❣

A/N: I have no business starting anything else knowing what my drafts look like but... here we are 🥲 I couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏾

p.s. this is part one of this miniseries so... stay tuned! ♡

• • •

𝑨𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏, the young man worked tirelessly to make good on his promise. Hands covered in oil rubbed against the cloth he had hanging from his waistband, and then, he shut the hood of the Range Rover Velar that belonged to his last customer of the day. Upon hearing the metal door click in place, the young woman ended her phone call, and turned to view her car.

Her Louboutin heels clicked along the concrete flooring of the garage, and as she approached the gentleman, his eyes couldn’t help but attach to her frame.

“Thank you for this TJ, really.” Her deep, buttery southern rasp eased from her lips effortlessly as she reached her hand out to touch his arm in thanks. He gives her a boyish grin, his aquamarine eyes gazing into her dark hazel ones.

“Don’t mention it. I told you, any time.” She returns a smile of her own, her pretty almond shaped eyes lighting up at the man who wouldn’t dare to not keep his word. Especially with her.

“And you don’t have to keep calling me TJ. Terry is fine.” He advises her. With a playful roll of her eyes, she creates just another inch of distance between them as she can sense where he’s trying to steer the conversation.

“Boy, please. Yo mama named you TJ, so I’m gon’ call you TJ.” The large young man only shakes his head, cleaning the few tools he previously used on his rag and setting them back in his tool box.

“Okay, GiGi.” Though he mumbles, the bass in his voice makes it so that even a whisper has projection, and the beautiful woman drops her jaw playfully.

“Wow.” She exclaims, shaking her head dramatically. Terry only scoffs at how she takes her own medicine, and then, the room falls quiet for a moment. Once he has all of his things organized back in their rightful place, he turns the lights off and starts to lock up, signaling to his counterpart that it was time to go.

“Oh, um…how much do I owe you?” She asks genuinely.

With all intentions of ignoring the question he thought she’d known better than to ask by now, Terry fastens the rest of the buttons on his work shirt, and quickly throws on his jacket. As he pats his pockets for his keys he realizes he’s good to close, yet he sees his friend still standing beside her truck.

“You’re all good, Gi. C’mon so I can close up.” He tries to be definitive about it, but when he sees the woman still as can be beside her car door, he releases a soft breath.

“No, you come on. I feel bad for holding you past closing time. Let me make it up to you.” Just as the words leave her lips, Terry is allowing his eyes to glaze over her every feature. He hadn’t allowed himself to get too distracted by her earlier, as he wanted to get done working on her car as soon as possible. But seeing her within the low light of the setting sun, and the darkened garage now, a flood of feelings came back full force.

Her naturally brunette tresses were straightened to perfection, with layers falling around her face. Romance curls lingered along her shoulders, accented with the tiniest streaks of blonde. The dark hair brought out the depth of her hazel-brown eyes and Terry had to fight to not get lost in them. Or lost in the soul behind them.

Giselle Knowles. Daughter of the Knowles family who were all known for their entreprenurial spirit; and she was no different. When they first met, his mother introduced them in hopes that the sweet young woman she met in church would take interest in her true southern gentleman of a son. If only Mrs. Richmond knew that her plan would result in the opposite, and that GiGi would have a hold on TJ, she may not have introduced them.

Now, five full years later, after initially trying to court the siren of a woman and learning that she only wanted a friend in him, he had vowed to himself to be whatever she needed. So far, that was a mechanic and confidant, but he was always hoping for the moment when she would make it more.

"You hungry?" She asks, finding anyway that she can reciprocate the huge favor he had just done for her. Finally giving in to the insistent woman, Terry scratches along his temple as he shifts his weight.

"Yeah, I could eat."

“You still eat like a growing boy, I see.” Gi watched across the small table as Terry dove into his meal, chicken bones and utensils be damned. He stopped for a moment, glancing his icy blue eyes her way, before he lowered the half bird to the paper it was served on. His large hands fished for a napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table, and ultimately grabbed the last one, bringing the thin piece of tissue paper to his mouth to wipe off the grease and chicken juice.

When he finally looked at his longtime friend, they both burst into a fit of laughter, remembering all of the times that she had witnessed TJ scarf his food down like he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from. Recovering from the tear inducing laughter, she could only shake her head, thinking of the response TJ gave her when she asked if he was hungry.

“Tal’m ‘bout, ‘I could eat.’ You was starving!” She continues to laugh, and Terry takes this time to admire her smile, as he chuckles a little beside her.

“I be try’nna tell you. Im not the same boy that you met some years ago. I’m a grown ass man, I gotta keep my weight up.” He flexes his muscles under hand and Gi’s eyebrows raise as she watches the muscles under his veined arms contract.

“Yeah, yeah, put those away, there’s kids around.” She jokes back, playfully glancing around their vicinity.

“Oh… oh.” He straightens his posture, and puts his arms in front of himself as if that would make him any smaller. They share a more quiet laugh, and then their eyes connect for yet another time tonight.

It’s almost awkward, as they look at each other for a moment longer, just taking the other in.

“When was the last time we got together like this?” Terry’s voice is soft in his inquiry, his hands reaching for the empty napkin dispenser to busy himself. Giselle feels his gaze get a bit more intense, and she averts her eyes to the half-eaten basket of fries before her.

“Um…” She thinks back to the few hangouts she’d had with friends throughout the year, and she can only single out one in particular.

“I think the last time it was just you and I was… after your mom’s memorial day cookout. So, May.”

“Damn, and it’s December, Gi.” Terry lets a beat of silence pass and then he’s shaking his head in thought.

“Nah, you gotta clear your calendar for me like twice a month, atleast one.” He reasoned. Friends that lived in the same state had to see more of eachother. Right?

Giselle takes a deep breath in, and looks to the side of her at the local chicken restaurant that was getting emptier and emptier as the hour passed. Her cheeks heated slightly as she assumed the implications of his words.

“Look, Terry. I told you before, you’re too young for me.” His eyebrows furrow for a second, and then a humored look fills his face in place of his natural pout.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, clearly. GiGi blinks at his apparent obliviousness, and motions toward him with her hands.

“I’m talking about you, saying I need to clear my schedule for you.” She repeats his words, and he finds himself scoffing at her assumptions.

“I don’t know what you were thinking, but I meant just to get together and catch up so…” Terry shrugs off the confusion, yet Giselle can feel even more heat rising in her cheeks and her palms grow sweaty. Why did I say that? She starts to rake her brain for when she missed the cues, or maybe created one from thin air.

Maybe he wasn’t pining after her anymore.

“Sorry…” A nervous laugh encases her apology, as she avoids his eyes at all costs. Suddenly, it seemed like if she looked at him she would burst into flames.

She recognized the feeling of embarrassment all too well, but… what was it that was pulling at her heart? Welling in the pit of her stomach?

When she was quiet for too long, Terry began to feel a slight pang in his chest. He knew her well enough to recognize when something was wrong; her face would fall, accentuating her pretty little pout and and then she would get spacey, glancing around at anything that wouldn’t grimace at her for staring. Just like she was now.

“Gigi?” He called out for her. But the only thing that changed was her eyes flickering up to his.

“What’s wrong?” What’s wrong? Maybe the random jump in her core when she watched him flex his muscles, or the way she smiled wider when she looked over his caramel complexion. This was not good.

“Nothing… and please don’t call me that.” She softens her tone so that she doesn’t take out her internal frustrations on him. But despite popular opinion, nothing had been peachy keen over on her side. Except for the money, but still, taxes came to mess with that too. Now, she was feeling things she had never felt before.

Terry jerked his head back slightly, confused by her sudden disdain for her widely known nickname.

“Everybody calls you GiGi, why can’t I?”

“Yeah, and everybody thinks they know me. They may know GiGi the hairstylist, but they don’t know Giselle.” She blinks and her eyes barely gloss over as she realizes the truth she is about to speak.

“But, you know me. So it’s different.” Terry listens to her deep country twang and hopes that he’s hearing her right. Is she… confessing?

He adjusts himself in his seat, and leans forward so that he can read her face better. He couldn’t afford to misunderstand her.

“So what would you rather me call you?” Yours.

“Everything good over here?” It takes Terry everything in him to drag his eyes away from Giselle, but when he does, he looks over at the waitress and gives her a polite nod.

“Cool.” She grabs the leather booklet with their bill from her wide apron pocket and places it between them on the table. “You guys can take care of that when you’re ready.”

Giselle was still too in her head to fully process that Terry was pulling two twenties from his wallet and telling the waitress to keep the change. But when the pretty young girl sauntered off with the paid tab, it was just them again. And they were able to pick up where they left off. Yet, Terry wanted to take the conversation somewhere else. Someplace where they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

In an effort to shield themselves from the cool fall night of the bustling downtown area, Giselle and Terry walk closer than before, foraging for heat. Their steps are slow, in tandem, as if they wanted to soak up the next few minutes of being next to each other. Both of their minds played their conversation back, scaling the words for different reasons.

GiGi hoped that she was clear with her doting, yearning words. But all she could remember was being vague as hell. And that wouldn’t serve either of them right now.

Terry paced over the words that he heard, dipping between them to try and read some other meaning. Was he missing something? It was pulling at him. A feeling a little too familiar, yet, it was shared now.

Their hands grazed the other as they walked as if they were joined at the hip. It was comfortable this way. Existing in the reality of the thing without fully acknowledging it.

But, Terry didn’t want comfortability. He wanted clarity.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” Giselle looks up at his side profile and then he turns his head so that his eyes can meet hers. For a moment they search inside eachother, hoping to get to the bottom of such intense feelings. Just as quickly as she looked at him, GiGi allows her eyes to fall to the pavement in front of her.

“Gi is fine. No one calls me that.” It wasn’t as different as she had first thought. And it surely wasn’t all that she had in mind for him to call her, but it would do for now.

“Hmph.” Terry lets his eyes rest on her for a moment more before he directs them to the path that they are walking on, and soon, they are reaching her glossy black Range. Silence was all that filled the space between them, and since she didn’t know what else to say, Giselle began to reach for her car door handle.

“Gi.”

His deep, gravelly voice calls out for her and she doesn’t give it a second before she is turning around to see what he wanted. Arms outstretched in front of him, Terry motioned for one of their infamous hugs, and though her eyes glossed over at the thought of him holding her with her feelings so raw, she didn’t deny him.

Giselle’s arms wrapped around Terry’s neck as if it was instinct, her body extended slightly as she stood on the tips of her toes, even in her Louboutins. Terry allowed his arms to squeeze her tight around her torso, holding her against him tenderly.

And for the first time the whole night, it was clear what each of them felt. Their heartbeats heightened in pace at the same exact time, pumping at the same exact rhythm.

GiGi tried her hand at taking a deep breath, which did absolutely nothing for her bleeding heart. All it did was allow her to take in a closer whiff of Terry’s scent, and she found her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She had no idea that the faint smell of motor oil, with his natural musk and the woody smell of his rosemary cologne would mix so well. But, it did something to her for sure.

“You get home safe, a’ight?” He begins to pull away yet they are still close, and her eyes open to gaze into his longingly. Without another thought, Giselle leans her face up and places the most velveteen kiss on his thick lips, her mind completely clear, just for a second.

Then, her eyes open and her inhibitions come rushing back in.

“Uh-I…” She tries to find the words but she is completely dumbfounded. It’s like her body was putty in his hands, but she didn’t want to do too much. She couldn’t.

As she begins to step back, Terry pulls her back in, and presses his forehead against hers.

“Stop holding back.” He rasps, wholly taken by the charm she had worked on him. It didn’t take her lips touching his for his feelings to be ignited, but just the thought that they were feeling the same things had his extremities ablaze. “Say what’s on your mind.”

“I want you.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

• • •

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@motheroffae

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ficsilike-reblogged · 1 year ago

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Invisible Smoke - Four

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he doesn’t run.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 10.9k

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I do not keep a tag list!! Life is still weird but thank you all for sticking with this little story of mine. I really appreciate all the kind words you sent on the last chapter. Only one more chapter to go!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, stalking, bodily injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Also, Jake is a (stubborn) simp.

Someone had slashed your tires.

Well, you shouldn’t say someone. You knew who had done it. It didn’t exactly take a doctorate to read the context clues—but you were pretty sure your insurance would drop you if you put in another claim, so you begrudgingly prepared to pay the hefty towing fee to the nearest tire shop and fork over even more cash for four new tires. This was one of the few times you wished your little bungalow actually had a garage. And god, you were so tired of this. So tired of the mind games he thought he was playing with you. He thought he was clever. But it was all just so repetitive. You had half a mind to just wait, out in the open, to let him do what he wanted just so it would be over.

It had only been two days since the dog fight football game and the following get together at the Hard Deck. Two days since you caught Jake’s eye at the water’s edge and felt your entire chest twist. He knew now. He knew what you were hiding.

You hadn’t been able to read the look in his eyes but Bradley had taken you aside before you slipped away for the night and basically told you that Jake, for better or for worse, was wanting and willing to help. “Give him a chance, Punch. Don’t you think he deserves that, at least? And you deserve to be happy.”

“When did you become a fortune cookie, Bradley?”

But you wanted to believe him. You did.

But Luke had made you glaringly aware that you weren’t really capable of having a relationship aside from a handful of hours with someone who’d forget your name by morning. You had expected to feel some sort of relief in knowing that Jake hadn’t wanted to wash his hands of you after learning about Luke, but all it did was make you feel like you were painting an even larger target on Jake’s back. He really did want to play hero, didn’t he?

You pushed the thought away as you texted Natasha, telling her you’d be late for brunch and she was quick to tell you not to worry about the tow, she’d send one of the boys to get you to the tire shop. You were expecting Bob and his reliable GMC; he’d been invited to brunch as well anyway.

But a familiar Ford F-250 pulled up instead and Jake stepped out of the cab, looking like a GQ model in a tight Henley and jeans that hugged his thighs a little too well to be fair. He looked at your car and your destroyed tires for just a moment before turning his gaze to you. Your heart gave an answering leap but you tried to not let it show and rolled your shoulders back as he took wide strides toward you.

“Did he do anything else? Did you check your windows-”

“You shouldn’t be here.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even pretend to think of a more polite greeting.

Jake arched an eyebrow before setting his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s just too damn bad, Punch. I am here and I’m not leaving until you tell me what's going on. Now, did anything else happen?”

You wanted to send him away. Wanted to keep him safe. But he was here. He was here and looking at you with those stupidly beautiful green eyes. “It’s just the tires,” you muttered, giving in. At least in this regard. You could handle everything else later.

Jake’s mouth set in a thin line before he moved to look at your tires again. He dug at one of the tears, the edge of his finger easily passing through the ruined rubber. “Jesus.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised when he turned back to the bed of his truck and pulled out a tire and then another and another until four new tires were stacked neatly beside your car. But you had a feeling Jake would always be three steps ahead of you. Infuriating.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy me new tires.”

“All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“Seresin, you can’t be serious. Tell me how much I owe you.”

Jake leaned forward just enough to steal the keys from your hands and popped open your trunk before handing them back. “I don’t want your money.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” you retorted as you followed him to the back of your car. “Tires are expensive! I can afford it. Just let me pay you! You’re already saving me money by not making me take a tow truck. And I might actually make it to brunch on time because of you, too. If you don’t give me an amount, I’ll have to guess.”

Jake moved the mat in your trunk and found your jack and tire iron and then gently grasped your hand that you’d set on the lip of your trunk and moved it before closing it. He then tugged you closer with that damn dimpled smirk and stared down at you with his stupid green eyes. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I will shove money into your pockets at the most inopportune moments and ruin every conquest you set your eyes on.”

But the threat fell flat as Jake’s smirk widened. “So, you’re planning on sticking your hands down my pants…repeatedly?”

Heat washed over you in an angry wave and you pulled your hands out from under his with a grimace instead of a snarl. “Only you would say something like that.”

His smirk continued as he stepped back and set the jack beneath your car and started to twist. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I’m paying for your drinks at the Hard Deck forever.”

“No.”

As he twisted the jack, your eyes were drawn (inevitably) to how his sleeves strained with his moving muscles. That shirt was fighting for its life and you were ogling him like a piece of meat (again). This whole situation was ridiculous! The man who’d tried to kill you twice had slashed your tires and you were flirting (possibly, maybe) with Jake like you didn’t have a care in the world. All of this was wrong. And incredibly stupid.

“Whatever. I’ll do what I want,” you lamely replied, hoping it sounded stronger than it felt.

“I’m sure you will, Punch.” Each word was dripping with something you couldn’t and wouldn’t name and you hated that Jake was able to easily have you smiling when he was there to fix a problem you created.

The tires were changed out within an hour and you invited Jake inside for a glass of water and asked if he wanted to tag along to brunch, it was the last you could do, right?

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“You’re not intruding. Bob’ll be there, too.” The brunch had been an impromptu plan anyway, cobbled together while you’d worked on Natasha and Bob’s jet and listened to Maverick and Cyclone berate the Top Gun students who had started another fight on the tarmac (apparently having learned nothing from the dog fight football games). You’d just been happy your pilots hadn’t been caught in the crossfire this time.

Jake looked at you over his half-finished glass of water and you had to keep yourself from shrinking away from his gaze. His glass clinked against the linoleum as he finished and you tried not to notice how he licked his lips free of the last few droplets of water. “So?” You pushed out, trying to keep your voice level. “Wanna come along?”

Jake’s silence turned at something in your stomach and Bradley’s not-at-all true observation was echoing at the back of your mind before Jake’s smirk returned. “You’re going to try to pay for brunch, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t even thought about it but… “Well, I invited you, so-”

“No.”

You groaned, snatching the glass from him and setting it in your dishwasher as Jake chuckled behind you. “You’re being a child.”

Jake rounded the corner, pushing further into the kitchen behind you, and crossed his arms over his chest (and no you weren’t looking at his arms again). “Why won’t you let me do anything nice for you?”

You frowned and matched his stance and crossed your arms, too. “I let you do nice things. You came with me to Junior’s party with me.”

“After you drove me there and tried to have me take credit for your gift and you introduced me to that group of brass to help me with my career.”

“That was a coincidence.”

“But you still did it.” He stepped closer and you hated that it was instinctual to take a step back, too. “Want to tell me why everything I do for you has to be reciprocal?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting and your fingernails dug into the meat of your arm as you tried to keep your face neutral. “There’s give and take to everything. And I… You should just let me pay you.”

“I’m not gonna let you pay me, Punch. And you’re going to learn that not everything is a give and take. Who taught you that, anyway?”

God. You hated this. You hated these questions and the soft look in his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Jake scoffed.

“Why?”

You could see Jake’s jaw clench, tendons working and tightening. But as quickly as it started, it stopped. He just shook his head and the tense silence in the kitchen continued to stretch until it was finally broken by Jake’s next question. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

And you knew what he was asking. And you wanted to hate that he was connecting dots that you had tried to erase. “What is there to say? You know everything now.”

“I heard it from Rooster, not you. It is your story, Punch.”

“Rooster knows it just as well as I do, I think,” you muttered with a shrug, trying not to shrink away from him. “What else is there for you to know?”

Jake stepped forward, enveloping you in the scent of his expensive cologne and tinge of jet fuel that seemed to cling to him as he closed the distance to stand at your side and brush his arm against yours. “I want to know everything. Haven’t I told you that?”

You gnawed at your lip for a moment before stepping away from the counter. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Luke was an asshole then and he’s an asshole now. I should’ve seen the signs, I get that. I do. But he was so good when he wanted to be. And after being an afterthought for most of my life, it was nice to pretend that someone was choosing me.” This was just pathetic. Stop talking. Stop talking. If he hadn’t thought of washing his hands of you before, he was surely doing it now.

“What do you mean you were an afterthought?”

You rolled your shoulders and turned just enough to look at him before glancing at the little clock above your oven. “Doesn’t matter now. But, if we leave in the next five minutes, we’ll probably beat Natasha and Bob to brunch. So, are you coming?”

The ride was mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant Phoenix had picked overlooking the water. But Jake knew you were thinking about telling him something else as you sat in his passenger seat, watching the road pass your window. So, he just told himself to be patient. Again. It was a bright spot to finally know what you looked like in his truck. God knows he’s imagined it more than he’d like to admit, like some lovesick teenager.

You were picking at your cuticles without taking your eyes off the passing scenery. Jake had never seen you nervous, not like this. Even when the Daggers had to ship out for a short deployment and you had to watch them all take off from the carrier, you didn’t act like this. He watched you lean forward just a bit and your eyes narrowed and then it clicked. You weren’t watching the world go by—you were keeping an eye on the cars following the truck in the side view mirror. You were making sure Luke wouldn’t try to run you off the road again.

Jake looked in the rear view mirror and saw sedans, coupes, and a handful of SUVs, and a smaller number of trucks. But not a single black charger. It was clear for now. But you still picked at your cuticles and didn’t peel your eyes from the window.

Jake reached out and set a hand over yours, stilling your picking. You jumped under the touch and Jake curled his fingers over yours a little tighter, trying to anchor you to something else a little less destructive. “We’re okay, Punch, all right?”

You looked at him and Jake hated that he had to look at the road for safety purposes when you searched his face for something. “For now,” you said in return, once again turning to look out at the cars.

Jake squeezed your hand again and didn’t let go even as you muttered the next handful of directions to the restaurant. He awkwardly shifted into park and took the keys out of the ignition after finding a spot in the steadily filling lot. Your shoulders were slumped as you turned back to him, face unreadable except for the pinch between your brows that he wanted to smooth with a brush of his thumb.

(Maybe one day.)

“All right. We’re gonna go in there, eat our weight in overpriced waffles and then I’m going to take you home and double check your windows and locks. Okay?”

Your eyes swept up to look up at him and Jake felt that familiar warmth starting to unfurl in his chest. Your thumb swept over his knuckles but he wasn’t sure if you were aware you were even doing it. “I can’t afford to buy you your weight in waffles.”

Jake barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re not going to buy me brunch. Stop trying.” He had to bite back the pleased smile he felt growing when he heard your gasp after he raised your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“You are ridiculous.” Your voice was tight as it wheedled out from between your lips before you (slowly) pulled your hand from his and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. We need to get on the list.”

The air was tinged with the scent of sea salt and syrup as he followed you into the glass and metal building, already teeming with people. You were quick to give your name and group size to the hostess who said it would probably be a fifteen minute wait. Just as you turned to grab one of the oddly shaped bar stools near the door to it for your name to be called, Phoenix was striding in, too. She pushed her sunglasses up her hair before sweeping you into a hug with a loud kiss to your cheek. “I knew you’d beat me here.” Then her dark eyes dragged to Jake as he stood behind you. “Hangman. What’re you doing here?”

“He drove me,” you said. “I figured it would be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Phoenix said, waving it away but Jake knew the gleam in her eyes. She wasn’t quite finished. “You two arrived together?” She asked, eyes bouncing between you and Jake.

“Ken fixed my tires. Figured I could treat him to brunch as a thank you.”

Jake had to groan at that, knocking his hand into your hip and earring a halfhearted swat at his arm in retaliation. “I told you, you’re not paying for me.”

Phoenix hummed and anchored her gaze on Jake and he fought the urge to stand a little straighter. “Yeah. That was awful nice of him. When you told me that the neighbor kid slashed your tires, I thought Hangman would be a gentleman and drive you to the tire shop. Not fix them himself.”

Neighbor kid. You had lied to Phoenix? Granted, her text had just said that your tires had been slashed and that you’d needed help—it wasn’t exactly filled with details. Jake had assumed that she had known. But that didn’t matter now and he plastered his well-used smirk on his face. “Well, I’m a-”

“Don’t stroke your own ego, Bagman.” She then glanced at something over his shoulder and smiled. “Bob just got here. Bob!” She threw up a hand to grab the WSO’s attention and he jogged toward the group when he spotted her. He nearly collided with a waitress and they both apologized—profusely—before going their separate ways. By the time Bob reached their little group, his face was a vibrant and familiar shade of red.

“Nearly swept that pretty girl off her feet, Baby on Board.” Jake braced for the hit he knew was coming and winced when Phoenix’s fist collided with his arm.

The group was seated soon after and Jake had to bite back a grumble when Bob was the one to pull out your chair for you when you reached the table. When Jake went to do the same to Phoenix, she hit him again.

Bob was nearly the shade of a strawberry when he realized the woman he’d nearly bowled over would be your waitress and nearly dropped his silverware roll when he noticed her striding over to the table. Food was ordered—both you and Jake ordered waffles while Phoenix wanted to try the brioche French toast and Bob wanted eggs Benedict with steak—and mimosas (and pineapple juice for Bob) were poured as Phoenix regaled the table with her run-in with a guy at the gym on base. The Ensign hadn’t realized Phoenix a) outranked him and b) wasn’t interested in bulging muscles and whatever the younger man could(n’t) provide. The interaction ended when Phoenix “politely” challenged him to a friendly competition to see who could handle more weight while doing hip thrusters. Phoenix started out with thirty pounds more than him and he called her a dyke so she had him barred from the gym and probably had a meeting with his commanding officers on Monday, too.

You giggled and tipped your mimosa flute into Phoenix’s before you both took a sip. It was good to see you smile like that.

The waitress came by a few minutes later with the food and she was quick to divvy up the plates but Jake watched her make sure Bob’s was the last plate and she stood at his side and carefully set it down, making sure to bend down just enough to brush against his arm. “Careful, the plate is hot,” she practically purred.

(Phoenix quickly had Jake’s laugh turning into a poorly disguised cough when she sent him a look across the table.)

“I’ll be careful. I can handle it.”

Then the waitress actually giggled and stood straight, setting her hand on Bob’s shoulder for just a moment. “I’m sure you can. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She then turned and walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips which Bob completely missed because he was busy unrolling his silverware.

The group watched him as he carefully cut into his meal and shoved a bite between his lips. He went to take another when he noticed the stares. “What?”

“Robert,” you started, voice strained to avoid a giggle. “She was flirting with you.”

His fork froze before it reached his mouth.”No, she wasn’t. She told me the plate was hot.”

Phoenix reached over and patted her back seater’s shoulder. “Oh, Bob.”

The other man’s blush returned and he shoved the bite between his lips. “How is telling me that the plate is hot flirting?”

Jake shook his head and fought a smile of his own. “Listen, do you like her?”

Bob chanced a glance at the waitress at the hostess booth and immediately ducked his head when she caught him and wagged her fingers at him with a wink. “She’s beautiful.”

“But?” Jake prodded, hearing a slight hesitation. He had always been good at reading people (you were an exception), and Jake had played therapist to a handful of the Daggers since he proved he could be someone other than Hangman. He wanted Bob to be happy.

“But I don’t know. She looks like she’d eat me alive.” He fiddled with his fork. “Can we talk about something else?”

Jake was the one who shifted the conversation to the insufferable group of Top Gun pilots that would thankfully be leaving soon enough. A friendly bet was placed on who everyone thought would actually get the trophy and Jake tried not to smile too much when Bob knocked his foot into his as a quiet thank you and you, seemingly unaware of Bob’s quiet gratitude, set your hand over Jake’s arm for a moment in your own show of appreciation. As soon as it happened, it was gone again.

That was okay. Jake was determined to have it happen again.

Brunch continued on and finished after another round of drinks and splitting a funnel cake that the waitress insisted they try. Jake was sure the woman pouted after not receiving Bob’s phone number when he signed his check but he wouldn’t mention it. Jake liked this strange bit of normalcy. With you. He even if both Bob and Phoenix made vague threats against his life if he hurt you. Jake was determined to have more of these moments with you. Even if you grumbled about Jake hustling to get to the truck before you so he could open your door.

The tension in the cab on the way to brunch was absent now and Jake didn’t even care when you teased him about his choice in radio stations—calling him a cliche for listening to early Tim McGraw. But you said it with a laugh and Jake had to laugh, too. He liked that it was you who brought up Bob and his interactions with the waitress.

“I want Bob to be happy. And he’s mentioned once or twice that he’d like to have a family.”

Jake thought for a moment before the perfect person popped into his thoughts. “I know a girl.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t trust your taste in women.”

And Jake had to laugh at that. Had to. You were his taste in women. But the person he had in mind for Bob would be perfect. “She’s a CPA. Wears glasses. And she only drinks ginger ale despite helping Penny with the Hard Deck’s taxes. And she’s the only person outside of Texas that I trust with my tax return.”

Your face scrunched and Jake knew you were thinking it over. “Just because they both wear glasses and have an affinity for Seagram’s doesn’t mean they’d be a good match.”

“Just trust me. It might take a minute to get her to look him in the eye-”

“She’s shy?”

“So shy. It’s adorable. And just what Baby on Board needs.”

You scowled at him but he knew you didn’t really mean it when you knocked your shoulder into his over the center console a moment later. He eventually pulled into your driveway and threw the truck into park before turning to you but you were scrambling out of your seat and up to your front door before he could even get a word in edgewise.

Oh.

Jake wasn’t sure if he’d ever been rejected as soundly as that before. But then he saw you waving him forward from your front stoop and Jake nearly clocked himself in the face with the seatbelt buckle as he hurried to follow you inside. He shut your door behind him, engaging just two out of the five locks as you hurried toward something just down the hall.

“Punch?”

“Just a moment!” You yelled in return.

Jake resisted the urge to settle on the couch again, like he’d done weeks ago. Everything seemed different now. You weren’t trying to push him away and he could hear you shuffling something in the other room and he was suddenly struck with a daydream of coming home to you, waiting for you to notice his presence and smiling when you saw him. “You’re home!” As soon as the vision came, it was gone, and Jake shook himself a little as if that would help him forget what he’d conjured up. What he’d wanted since the moment you first called him Ken, even if he never admitted it out loud.

You walked back into the living room and slapped something down onto the small table you had lining the back of your couch.

“Whatcha got there, Punch?”

Your answering smile was all teeth, like a cat who got the cream and Jake saw that it was a fifty dollar bill as it peeked from between your fingers. “Well, I added up how many miles it is from base, to my house, to the restaurant, then back to my house and then guessed on how many miles you get per gallon. And, you use premium gas, right? Either way, this should be enough for gas, but if you use diesel, this should cover it.” You slapped another fifty atop the first after pulling it from your back pocket.

Jake looked at the stack of cash and then back at you before he sighed, a long put-upon sigh that he knew was obnoxious but it was worth it when he heard you try to stifle a laugh. God. You were relentless.

“First, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re awful at math. Like, so bad.”

“Hey!”

“And second, I’m still not taking your money.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I’m being a friend, Punch. Friends drive each other around and help them when they need it. And I’m willing to bet-“

“I’ll take that bet.”

Jake continued on, ignoring you, “-that you wouldn’t expect to be paid back if our places were switched.”

You pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment and drummed your fingers against the money. “I lost that bet. Guess you’ll have to take the money.”

Jake groaned but he could feel a laugh starting to bubble in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

It was too soon to call this a victory, but you were sure you were closing in on one. He would take the money and then you could pretend to feel fine about everything he’d done for you. Sure.

“Actually, I have something you could do if you’re so hellbent on paying me back.” Before you could ask what he meant, he was unlocking your door and jogging out to his truck and pulling something out, tucking it behind his back as he returned. “Can you sign this for me?”

Then he dropped a purple book in your hand and your stomach dropped to your feet as you looked at the gold lettering across the cover. “You snooped!” You said, too embarrassed to be angry. You held the book up to your chest as if that would guard you from his knowing look or the embarrassment starting to churn your stomach.

“You knew I would! Why’re you surprised?” His smile was back and he took a step toward you. You took a responding step back until he was crowding you against your bookshelf, hands landing on the shelves on either side of your shoulders. And it could have been a threatening stance, an unnerving cage, but all you felt was safe. Safe as he blotted out the rest of the world and it was just you and him and your books in the quiet of your home.

You should not feel like this, you knew that. It was stupid and dangerous and you couldn’t stop it. What had happened to your resolve that you had just yesterday for keeping him at arm's length?

Your fingers drummed against the paperback and you hurriedly flipped it open when your eyes tracked down to his mouth. Oh. “Should I sign it ‘To Ken?’ Or-”

“Could you actually sign it for my sister Mia? She reads your books in her book club.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say. That was…that was actually really nice to know. You knew people read your books; Danny had framed a newspaper clipping showing your second book reaching a top ten spot one of the Best Sellers lists and had gifted it to you for your last birthday. They were mildly popular, you knew that. But to actually be confronted with the fact that someone you vaguely knew was reading your books was something else. You reached back and grabbed one of the pens you kept in a cup on the shelf. “Mia? She’s your oldest sister, right?” A quick glance up at Jake had your heart twisting. His look was too soft. Too happy.

“Yeah, Punch. That’s her.”

You took the time to write your pseudonym with extra flair and then added a heart next to Mia’s name, too. “Is this for her birthday or anything?”

“She’s…” Jake paused for a moment. “She’s just going through a rough patch right now. Your books make her smile.”

The pen stalled on the page for just a moment before you shoved at his chest to get him to back up just enough to grab at your ARC for your newest book and quickly scrawled, Wishing you expensive champagne and good memories! Happy reading! You then signed your name again and added a half dozen hearts next to Mia’s name at the top of the page. You slapped both books against Jake’s chest with a frown. “That book hasn’t been released yet, so I may get in a bit of trouble with my publisher if she tells anyone.”

Jake’s hands covered yours on the books and the toe of his shoe knocked into your socked feet as he moved closer, dragging your attention back to his stupidly handsome face again. “She won’t tell anyone but I know I’ll probably get an earful about how I got them.” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles and you would swear that you could feel it behind your ribs. “Where’d you get that name anyway?”

You almost snorted at the way he phrased that question, like you found it on the side of a cereal box. “My parents were obsessed with Stephen King—they actually met at a book club specifically for King’s books. My sister, Georgie, was named after the kid who got their arm ripped off at the beginning of It. And my brother, Danny, is named after the kid in The Shining, Danny Torrance.”

“And you? I don’t think I’ve read your name in his books.”

It was a fair enough question. King had dozens of books and Jake didn’t seem like the type to clamor for the newest release. “I was named by my grandparents after they discovered the reasoning behind my sister’s name. If my parents wanted to stay in the will, I had to have a name they picked. Of course, when my brother was born, my parents picked something a little more innocuous so they wouldn’t rock the boat again. But, anyway, to actually answer your question; I took my siblings’ names as a sort of thank you to them. Georgie became Georgia and I took Danny’s literary counterpart’s last name. And Georgia Torrance was born. I wrote most of my books when I had downtime on deployments. I took a chance and sent it off to an agent and I got a nice contract with a moderately respectable publishing house. It isn’t Stephen King money by any means, but I can upgrade my plane ticket to Business Class if I wanted to once or twice a year.”

“Your parents must’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

You tried to fight the sigh you felt growing in your throat but lost. You also lost the wherewithal to keep a single secret from him. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to them.”

“What?”

“After Danny got sick, all of their attention was on him, which I understand. I do. But I was still just a kid who needed her parents every once in a while. But it was like I ceased to exist to them until they remembered I could help with the hospital bills. Georgie was already out of the house and getting her degree and would call but it wasn’t the same. I kinda gave up on having a relationship with my parents after they forgot about my rowing meet and I waited to be picked up for three hours before eventually just walking home.”

“Punch-”

And once you started, you couldn’t stop, like a can of pop shaken and bursting. “Danny was hooked up to like six different machines and was high off his ass and he apologized for all the…all the bullshit. I told him it was unnecessary. He was sick. I’m just happy he’s healthy again.”

God. You really knew how to ruin every moment, didn’t you?

Jake set the books on the shelf just beside your shoulder but was quick to lean over you again and you hated how Jake really was a certifiable blueprint for a romantic literary hero. You could write a single description of him in your next book and you’d know it would skyrocket to the top of the Best Sellers lists but you had been actively avoiding trying to piece together a story from your life. And, as if he knew you were debating something, the bastard actually propped his other arm up on the bookcase and leaned over you. Oh god. He was doing the lean and was going to ask you something about your fucked up childhood.

Shit.

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, letting you know that this moment could be disastrous. So, you decided to not let it go on any longer. “Jesus. Sorry. I really know how to kill a good time, huh? I think I’ve taken up quite enough of your time for the day. Let me know what Mia thinks of the books, okay?”

You ducked beneath his arm, intent on leading him to the door, but Jake grasped your hand and pulled you to a stop. “No, c’mon, Punch. Don’t do that again. Don’t shut me out. I’m happy you feel like you can tell me stuff like that, that you’re comfortable enough to trust me with that. Don’t pull away again. Not from me.”

You knew that if you looked at him right now, his green eyes would be wide and pleading. So, you just didn’t look. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. I don’t know why you’re doing this, Jake.”

“Doing what?” He asked softly, as softly as his hand on yours.

“Buying me tires? Driving me around? Being…being this fucking nice to me all the time when I’ve only been a dick to you?” You asked as you felt your chin wobble. “Why?”

Jake was quiet for a moment. Just a moment. “You know why.”

“No! No, I don’t because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence because then it was real, it would be real and you didn’t know how to deal with that again. You looked up at him and tried to remember what you were protecting him from. Pulling your hand out of his, you set your hands on your hips. “Because you can’t.”

Jake’s shoulders rolled before his lips set in a thin line. “I do. And I know you feel the same.”

You scoffed and tried to ignore the warmth in your chest that he was right. He felt the same. Wouldn’t that just be the worst? “You really think that highly of yourself? You’re so sure that I-”

Jake leaned closer and the rest of your argument stalled. You could smell the mint on his breath from the stupid toothpick he was chewing on in the truck just beneath the warmth of his cologne. God. He was intoxicating. You almost hated him for a moment because every ounce of fight you had drained out of you. “Ken.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He moved closer. Closer. Closer.

His warm hand skirted up your arm until it settled against the gentle arc of muscle between your neck and shoulder and the other settled on your hip. You could feel each of his fingers pressing into your skin like a brand. Every breath he took brushed against your mouth and you licked your lips without a thought as he leaned even closer.

“Last chance.” You could feel his smile against your mouth, growing with each syllable.

And you had to smile. Had to because he was your Ken and this felt inevitable. Jake was inevitable. “Do your worst.”

He kissed you and it was instantly all consuming. Surely, he could feel your smile, too. You actually laughed against his mouth as your hands pressed against his chest. Jake pulled back just enough for you to see his smile before he kissed you again, catching your bottom lip between his and tugging to have you gasping. His stupid, perfect teeth nipped at the skin and he was quick to soothe the sting with a flick of his tongue.

Then you were moving backward, guided by his gentle movements, until your spine went flat against the wall beside your bookshelves. The kiss was all smiling lips and searching tongues as Jake held you tight. Everything was warm and tinged with the mint on his tongue and Jake Jake Jake.

His thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw and he sighed against your panting mouth. “So fucking good.” His voice was hoarse and you could feel it curling in your stomach.

But your entire body seized when you felt his hand move to wrap around your throat as his mouth continued to work against yours. You couldn’t help it; you flinched. The kiss ended abruptly as you pulled back despite you not wanting it to end. But it couldn’t be helped. Not yet. You watched an array of emotions flash across Jake’s face before it settled on despair.

“Fuck.” The single syllable was wrenched from his throat as he took a step back and his hands fell back to his sides and left you cold. “Fuck, Punch, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“W-wait…I just…” How could you even phrase this without sounding unhinged? “I just need a moment.” Your next breath rattled in your lungs but you still reached for his hand and raised it again, moving it just enough for his fingers to encircle your throat once more. The roughened planes and angles of his hand had you shivering but you managed to drag your eyes up to his and tried to not show how nervous you actually felt. “It… you can, if you want. I’d actually prefer to have some good memories of something like this instead of-”

The rest of your rambling was cut off as his lips pressed against yours. The grip on your throat grew a little more insistent, a little heavier, but nothing stronger than just a simple weight, an anchor at your pulse. His other hand smoothed up your arm to curl over your cheek just as he pried your lips apart, delving into your mouth to steal the building whine from your throat.

Your heart hammered behind your ribs as you felt the warmth of Jake’s hand bleed through your shirt as his palm brushed the side of your chest. He moved forward and your legs instinctively parted to accommodate the thigh he was shoving between yours and your next breath caught in your throat when the denim brushed against the crux of your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hissed when Jake’s lips seared a path across your cheek and down your throat to bite at your thrumming pulse. You hadn’t even remembered when your hands had dropped to wrinkle his shirt again but you still pulled him closer as every nerve ending sparked. And then-

“Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Immediately, you pulled away from Jake with a grimace as ABBA’s song continued to fill the air. “Oh Jesus, that’s Natasha’s ringtone. She never calls.” You ducked beneath his arm for the second time tonight and pulled your phone off its perch on the kitchen counter and answered it as you heard Jake sigh. Turning to look at him, you saw his head drop to his chest for a moment before standing straight again and following in your footsteps toward the kitchen.

“I asked Rooster out and I think he thinks it is just as a friends thing and I want to bash my head against the wall.” Tasha screeched, words running together in a rush. She continued on, explaining that somehow she and Bradley had been roped into helping Penny restock the Hard Deck before opening today and Natasha had (finally) acted on her (reciprocated) feelings after Rooster had been his usually flirty self the entire time and then dragged Natasha to the piano and made her sing along to Elton John’s Your Song. Jesus.

You looked over at Jake to see him looking at you with another soft look on his face and a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to him.

He waved it away before stealing a quick kiss, too, that had your heart rate picking up again.

“Punch? You there?”

You pushed out a breath and shook your head as you pressed a hand to Jake’s chin, keeping him from doing it again. You could feel his self satisfied smirk against your fingers. “Yeah. I’m here. And, um, I don’t know. I think you’d be surprised with Bradley. He’s probably picking out his nicest Hawaiian shirt in preparation.”

Tasha groaned but you had to smile because Jake nipped at your fingers. “You think?”

“I do. It is gonna be great. I know it.”

She sighed, crackling the line, but eventually agreed. “He can’t be that oblivious right?” She asked, making you both laugh. “Also, don’t think I’m forgetting about you and Hangman coming to brunch together. We’re gonna talk on Monday.”

“You don’t forget anything, Tasha. I’m well aware.”

You eventually said your goodbyes after promising her you would talk to her on Monday and then dropped your phone on the counter again and your hand from Jake’s mouth.

“I never thought you’d be a tease.” His tone let you know he was joking but you also could have guessed with the smirk pushing at his mouth, too.

Your jaw dropped for a moment before an embarrassed giggle rippled out of you. “I said I was sorry! I was worried!” Biting your lip as you looked at him, you shook your head. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“It was quite the moment, huh?” His smirk had fallen to a soft smile despite his self assured words.

“Yeah, it was.” You didn’t even want to tease him now but then a small voice whispered at the back of your mind that it wasn’t a moment to him. After all, who would want-

“Steak or seafood?” He asked, knocking the rest of your thoughts right out of your head.

“What?”

“I have a list of restaurants that I want to take you to, if you’re willing to let me pay and bring you flowers.” The usual bravado that bled through all of his words wavered now. Was he nervous?

“Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date, Ken.”

“I’m trying here, Punch. So? Steak or seafood.”

Hope and happiness were blooming and twisting and growing within the confines of your ribs now. He wanted to take you out on a date. “I’m allergic to shellfish,” was all you could say through your smile.

“Steak it is. I’ll update my list when I get home.” He reached out and swept his thumb across the slope of your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch a little more. Jake seemed content to just hold your face in his hand for a moment before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “I should go. I want to do this right with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to wine and dine you, darlin’. Want to earn those lips of yours again,” he said as his thumb moved to press at the heated skin of your bottom lip. “You deserve it. And I want to be the one to give it to you.”

For just a moment, you worried that Jake would hear how hard your heart was beating. No one had ever said anything like that to you before. “Oh.”

This was different. Jake was different. You just had to give him permission to show you.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled and stepped back, hand dropping back to his side. “You’re a good friend to Phoenix, by the way. Bradshaw, too.”

You smiled again. “They’re good to me. All of you have been.” Slowly, you herded him toward the door, knowing he had a plan.

He stopped at the door, just after you undid the locks. “Does Phoenix know?”

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he was asking. “It’s hard enough to be taken seriously in the Navy as a woman. She had her own battles, Luke was mine. I always thought she was so strong and, for a while, I thought she’d just see me as weak if she knew what I’d put up with. But I know now that is an unfair thought. Tasha is and always has been one of my best friends and staunchest supporters. I should tell her, right? And maybe I will, after all of this is over. I don’t…I don’t want anyone else I care about to be wrapped up in this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” And you tried to ignore the sinking feeling that you had once again put Jake in Luke’s crosshairs.

But this time had to be different. It had to be.

Jake shook his head and cupped his hands at the back of your head before touching his forehead to yours. “We’re going to finish this, okay? We will.”

You nodded and smiled despite it all when he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead—it was like he couldn’t stop kissing you. And you weren’t about to complain. “Get home safe, Ken.”

You watched him get into his truck and waved as he pulled out and you knew he was telling you to lock your doors through the windshield. Your phone rang again just as he disappeared down the road and you knew by the way Jerry Lewis blared that it was now Bradley calling.

It had only been two days since Jake kissed you and had promised you a date. Two days and it was like the entirety of Top Gun was trying to keep you apart. You barely saw each other after he got roped into helping Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson into looking over the files of the next hopeful batch of aviators who could be called to San Diego. But it was fine. Sure. It wasn’t as if you could walk in holding his hand; you were still in the Navy and there were still protocols and rules you needed to follow. You had a feeling you and Jake would be breaking a lot of them.

You were kept busy with repairing Harvard’s jet after he managed to land safely after a bird strike. Your lunch breaks and evenings were spent talking to either Natasha or Bradley about their upcoming date-not-date while not revealing that you knew what the other was thinking. You did, however, mention to Bradley that Rueben and Mickey had started a betting pool about how long it would take Bradley to admit who he was in love with after Mickey spotted him with a pad of paper during lunch which was apparently filled with a speech about loving someone for years. You then spent the next hour workshopping the speech he was going to say to Natasha. It was beautiful and heartfelt and filled with analogies you tried to trim down (gently). He was still, annoyingly, assuming that their dinner on Wednesday was not a date in Natasha’s eyes but he was still going to try to confess his feelings and hope for the best.

You knew he’d be over the moon with how Natasha would react.

As Wednesday bled into Thursday, you were nearly dead on your feet but you’d been watching Natasha and Bradley all day, trying to decipher how their date had gone by their body language. You drove home that night without many answers but your phone rang just before you pulled down your street and quickly answered when Natsha’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?”

“He said he’s in love with me!”

“Hello, Tasha. How are you? I’ve had a great day. How was yours?”

“Oh, shut up!” She laughed. “I’m freaking out! He said he was in love with me—has been for years, apparently—and all I did was kiss him afterward. That’s not fair, right? I also need to have a speech. I can’t let him win this. I want to do a PowerPoint.” You had to mute your phone at that so she wouldn’t hear you snort. Everything was a competition. “Do you have that picture of me and him from Mav’s birthday last year?”

“I do,” you said, knowing exactly which one she was referencing. It was of Bradley and Natasha at the piano. Bradley had just led everyone through a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for Mav and there was still a flush on his cheeks. Natasha was right next to him in a stunning blue dress and smiling at him. It was the picture you promised to yourself that you would show at their wedding. You rushed inside, pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder and hurriedly shut the door behind you before darting toward your bedroom without bothering to turn on any of the lights—you said you’d drop it off at her apartment as soon as you’d found it. You were going to be in and out. You flopped onto your stomach, overturning the small mountain of pillows you had at the headboard, before grabbing at the storage container beneath the bed frame. You hauled it up and onto the bed and flipped the lid. To your chagrin, your “filing” system was essentially nonexistent when it came to photos and you started to sift through them as Natasha continued to talk, telling you about the date she’d planned and laughing about how much Bradley had stumbled over his speech.

God, it was so nice just to hear her laugh. They were going to be happy together. You knew it.

A door opened and closed slowly in the distance—your neighbor must’ve finally sprayed his door with WD-40 because it didn’t creak. Good. It only took him three years. But your heart nearly stopped when you heard your neighbor’s door open a few seconds later and its distinctive creak filled the night air. Something thumped down the hall and your spine went rigidly straight, still holding the phone to your ear as blood roared in your ears. You hadn’t locked the door. You had been inside for less than five minutes and you hadn’t thought it was necessary–you would have been leaving again soon anyway.

But you should have taken the time. A careless, stupid mistake.

The noise came again and sat up on bed, spilling the pictures in your hold onto your blankets. “Punch?” Natasha asked, pulling your focus. “You still there?”

“I…I think there’s someone in my house,” you whispered. Every part of your body was telling you to run. Right now. But where could you? Your house had one door and the person was in your living room.

Natasha was quiet for just a moment before whispering, “I’m gonna call the cops, okay? You hide.”

“N-no,” you hissed. “Don’t hang up. Stay with me.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay on the line with you, but-”

The line went dead with three terrible beeps and you wrenched the phone away from your ear to see ‘Call Lost - Try Again?’ written across the screen. No matter how many times you tried to call or text, nothing went through. The little icon at the top where you usually saw the lines denoting your network was now just a terrible X. The network was either down or whoever had come into your house had turned on a jammer. And you knew which was more plausible—but god, you had never wished for a network outage more.

Slowly, you slid off the bed and into the hall just as you heard the distinctive sound of a boot hitting the corner of your coffee table. Someone was in your house.

Mia had loved the books. Apparently her book club had ooh’d and ahh’d over the signed book but she had, as Jake knew she would, kept the copy of your newest book a secret but had rattled off her opinions to Jake. “And I can’t believe you know her!” She squawked on the other end of the line. It had been so good to hear the smile in his sister’s voice again. It was priceless. Jake had also evaded any questions as to who you were–it wasn’t his secret to tell–but he hoped that you’d be the one to tell Mia sooner rather than later.

It had been a good day. For the most part, anyway. He would have preferred to have had more than just a small smile and wave from you for the last few days, but he could be patient.

When Jake’s phone chirped with a new message, he’d expected something from Javy, keeping him up to date about the conversation he was hoping to have with his girlfriend’s father. The ring Jake had helped Javy pick out was burning a hole in his pocket and Jake hoped that his best friend would be able to plan a cool as fuck bachelor party and then make sure the whole wedding goes smoothly.

And maybe he could ask you to be his date. He could dance with you and make you smile and-

Any happy thought he had evaporated when he looked at his phone.

Someone broke into Punch’s house! I’m calling the cops!

Jake was in his truck before he could even think to type out a response and sped toward your house as the group chat started to explode with a barrage of texts he didn’t read. He knew who had broken in. There was only one possible answer.

Jake just hoped he’d get there in time.

You needed to get out of the house…or at least get to something you could use as a weapon. The baseball bat you kept near the bookshelves could work, right? Slipping further down the hall, you tried to tell yourself that you could get out of this.

Creak.

You clapped a hand over your mouth as you pressed your spine to the wall, trying to quiet your breathing.

Step.

He was in your kitchen. You knew the sound of hard soled shoes on the uneven tiles. Could you make a run for it? Could you trap him in the laundry room? That had to be your only option. You turned the corner into your living room and your stomach fell to your feet.

Luke was standing in your kitchen. Knife in hand. Waiting for you. He looked almost exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him. His brown hair was still cropped short. His brown eyes were still narrowed and cold. His clothes were rumpled designer brands. He hadn’t changed. And that was terrifying.

You dove for the baseball bat, curling your hands around it before you turned and swung blindly. The bat cracked against his arm and Luke yelled, low and guttural as he staggered backward for a moment. But then he was lunging forward and grasping at the bat to wrench it out of your hands. He threw it across the living room and it smacked against the wall, shattering the glass in two frames before knocking them to the floor with a terrible crack. You couldn’t go for it again. There was no way past him now.

You should have aimed for his head.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, baby?”

You cringed at the nickname but didn’t take your eyes off the knife in his hand.

Luke didn’t wait for an answer to his question before barreling on. “And look what you’ve done. Got all those nice pins on your shirt, moving up in the ranks, and…” he paused as a smirk slithered across this mouth, “you got my dad’s money. A nice little nest egg.You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? And you didn’t have to work for any of it.”

He took a step forward and you took one back, ankle colliding with your coffee table.

“And what about me? I’m so glad you asked!” He snarled. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. And you want to know why?”

“I had nothing to do with that, Luke. W-we had an agreement, remember? I keep my mouth shut and you…you were supposed to stay away from me.”

Luke’s tongue clicked against his teeth before he waved the knife. “You had everything to do with it. That LoA in my file was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I could’ve been given another chance if you had just kept your mouth shut when I told you to back in the-“

“I didn’t say anything. You were going to get Bradley killed!” The words bubbled out of you before you could think of the repercussions.

Luke was on you in a flash. The tip of the knife pressed over your sternum and you could feel it with each labored breath you sucked in between clenched teeth.

“He would’ve been fine! I know how to do my job! You ruined everything and then took my dad's money!” The knife pressed closer closer closer. It started to tear through the thin material of your shirt and shallowly cut your skin. The whimper you felt blooming in your throat died when you saw the gleam in Luke’s eyes.

Before you could even stop to think of an alternative, you threw your hands up and caught the knife. The edge sank through the delicate skin between your fingers and into your palm but you didn’t recoil. Couldn’t. You were only able to drag the knife down, the tip cutting against the skin just above your stomach.

Fresh pain bloomed across your face and it took you a moment to realize that Luke had slapped you. And then he did it again, making sure to send your head flying backward to slam into the wall hard enough and have stars dancing in front of your eyes. Your grip almost fell, loosening a fraction, and just for a moment everything was silent.

Just a moment.

You’d never be able to describe the pain that bloomed as Luke moved and drove the knife in, slotting it between your ribs and twisting with a vicious flick of his wrist. Your next breath stalled just behind your tongue as every nerve ending exploded with heat and teeth and a terrible popping sensation bubbled beneath your skin. “L-Luke…”

He pushed the knife deeper as he pressed his cheek to yours in an echo of the hugs he used to give you. “I used to miss you, you know. Did you miss me? I treated you so well. I was good to you. So good. I gave you everything.” The knife rocked back and forth and you felt the ridge of it with each movement. You felt all of it. Your grip faltered against the knife gain but you knew you couldn’t drop your hold.

He would kill you.

“And you had to ruin it. You ruined my life.”

“L-Luke…”

“I need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me you know what you did. You had this coming. All of it.”

“I didn’t,” you wheezed. Your chest was collapsing in on itself like you had a boar sitting on your sternum.

“Say it! You don’t get to play victim this time. You were the one who ruined my life.”

“You were a d-drunk! I did all that work for you until you told me you’d kill me if I made you l-look bad again!” Each word was a crack against your ribs, sharp and biting, but you couldn’t stop. This would be your only chance to say this, you knew it. If you were going to die tonight, you were going to let him know what you really thought of him. “You…” You sucked in a breath that only served to make you ache. “You only got through basic because your daddy bribed someone. You only got into the Navy at all because he made a phone call to someone after you failed the ASVAB. You…you fail at everything you do. You were a shitty AD. And you couldn’t kill me.” Blood dribbled out of your mouth and you felt it slid down your chin. “Twice. So you better make this count.”

Luke’s teeth glinted in the low light and he ripped the knife out only to plunge it back in. You felt the blade scrape against the edge of your hip as you let out a scream that fizzled out to a gurgle as more blood filled your mouth.

“I’ll make it count!” Luke seethed as he drove the knife deeper and pushed you into the wall.

Everything burned. Everything ached. And all you could do was scream as your knees knocked together, strength dribbling out of you with each frantic pulse of your heart.

Luke leaned forward to press his forehead against yours and the knife twisted. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you feel me inside you?” His breath smelled of the expensive cognac you knew he liked to guzzle and rolled your stomach.

“Luke.” You didn’t want to die looking into his eyes. You didn’t want to die at all, but you weren’t going to have your last earthly memory be of Luke and his cold eyes, so you shut your eyes as the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

The screech of a siren broke through the haze of your mind. You had to laugh but that, too, was cut short when Luke pulled the knife out and rushed toward the window to see the night sky filled with red and blue lights. You crumpled. Your hands slapped against the floor for just a moment before you slumped in a heap against the carpet as your arms gave out.

You vaguely heard your front door slam against the wall and knock another picture from its perch. There was an answering sound of glass shattering before warm, rough hands gently grasped at your shoulders. You struggled for just a moment when your scrambled brain thought Luke had come back to make sure you were dead. Unfocused eyes barely registered Jake kneeling above you.

“Punch? Punch, c’mon darlin’. There you are.” His voice was muffled but you felt yourself smiling anyway as everything started to prickle like you’d pinned your limbs beneath your weight for too long. The smile quickly died when Jake’s hands clamped down over your wounds and a surprised yelp punched out from between your teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I gotta stop the bleeding.”

“I-it hurts.”

“I know. I know it does. But it’ll only hurt a little longer, all right? You gotta stay awake for me. The cops are almost here.” His grip tightened. “We’ll get you fixed up and-”

“Where’s…Luke?” Was he still in your house? Would he hurt Jake?

“I don’t know, darlin’. He’s gone. We’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him and he’ll never do this to you again. But I need you to stay awake.”

Black dots were pushing their way into your line of sight, blotting out Jake’s worried face. “Ken…Jake…I wanted to get steak with you.”

Jake pressed harder and you could only whimper. “We will go get that steak. It’ll be the best date.” His voice was muffled, like you had shoved your head under water. And you struggled to hear him at all.

“Promise?” You asked, blood on your teeth.

“I promise.”

You smiled, despite it all. And then you were gone.

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #tgm #female reader

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mooshimush · 2 years ago

Note

Oh well I’m particular to street racing so my list would probably be

Ruby drives a 1995 Suzuki cappuccino

Weiss drives a 2004 Nissan 350z or a skyline r34

Yang drives a Subaru WRX STI not sure on year tho maybe 2004?

Blake def drives a sleek black 1998 nissan 200sx

These are all head canons and also cars I like so 👀

i'm sure this has been asked already, but what are the cars that team RWBY drive in the racer au??? i have my own hc of what they would drive but what do they drive in your au? (ps. i love you and your work <3)

HONESTLY i sort of make it up as i go along?? the universe is a lil more like techy/futuristic so i can draw the cars however i want and claim its just wacky sci fi tech.... that being said please tell me your headcanons!!!!!! thank you 🥺💗

#Nora drives a big truck and pulls them out of ditches #perhaps the mechanic too Bc electricity or smth?#ren has just a reliable Honda civic and jaune has a Toyota ae85 #Pyrrha has a Supra #rwby #racer au #mooshimumbles

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adrealucia · 7 months ago

Text

New Beginnings

Summary: After relocating to the picturesque town of Puerto Lobos in Mexico, you quickly realize that your car is in dire need of repair. With little knowledge of local mechanics, a friendly neighbor recommends you visit Diaz’s Garage, run by the talented Sean Diaz. Sean, a hardworking and kind-hearted mechanic, welcomes you warmly. As he works on your car, you strike up a conversation, discovering that Sean and his brother Daniel moved to Puerto Lobos a few years ago, seeking peace and a new beginning after a tumultuous past. Sean’s dedication to his work is evident as he skillfully repairs your car. Meanwhile, Daniel, now sixteen, balances school and helps out around the garage. He occasionally joins in the conversation, displaying his sharp wit and curiosity about your life and experiences. As the days pass, you find yourself drawn to the garage, not just for the impeccable car service, but for the genuine companionship you find with Sean and Daniel. You start to learn more about their past, their dreams, and the close-knit bond that holds them together. In return, you share your own stories, finding solace and understanding in their company. tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk

Chapter one

The dusty road leading to Puerto Lobos was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. As you navigated your car through the narrow streets, the vibrant colors of the town's buildings and the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore offered a warm welcome. You had moved to this small coastal town in Mexico seeking a fresh start, a place where the past could be left behind and new memories could be made. It wasn’t easy getting here, but it was all worth it in the end. Just the thought of your beautiful small house right at the beach makes you feel accomplished and happy all over again.

But today, your thoughts were dominated by the sputtering sound coming from your car. To be completely fair your car had gone a long way, all the way down from Washington to here, Puerto Lobos. With a frustrated sigh, you pulled over to the side of the road, glancing at the smoke wafting from the hood. Well, this certainly didn’t take very long. You have been having these kinds of problems with your car for a whole while now, but it’s never been this bad before. A friendly local had mentioned a reliable mechanic in town—Diaz’s Garage. You checked the address scribbled on a piece of paper “Oh that’s actually not far at all” you whispered to yourself and set off on foot, hoping that the mechanic could work his magic.

The garage was a modest but bustling place, filled with the scent of oil and the clinking sounds of tools. Inside, a tall young man with dark hair and a focused expression was working on a vintage truck. He looked up as you approached, wiping his hands on a rag and offering a welcoming smile. At first, you do not notice it but giving a closer look you notice that he is missing an eye. You wonder what had happened to him?

"Hey there," he greeted, his eyes kind yet weary. "Can I help you with something?"

Relieved that he did not start speaking Spanish you gave him a thankful smile and you explained your car trouble, he nodded, introducing himself as Sean Diaz. As he listened, you couldn't help but notice the way he moved with quiet confidence, every action precise and efficient. It was clear that this garage was not just his workplace but his sanctuary.

You led him to your car, and with a few deft movements, he began diagnosing the problem. "Looks like it’s going to need some work, but nothing I can’t handle," he said reassuringly. "Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours? I should have it running smoothly by then." You sigh internally, it’s not like you thought that he would fix your car on the spot but you also did not really make a plan on what to do now. For a second you look around noticing you only ever drive through this part of down and have never actually explored it. Maybe you could find a nice place to sit down and have some food?

“Thank you so much, I would have been totally lost if your shop hadn’t been near.” Thankfully you smile up at him again. It’s so good to finally meet someone who is actually fluent in English, even though practicing your Spanish can be fun as well. Usually, when you try to talk to natives they look at you all smiley and kind and the next thing they are doing is getting out their phone to open up the translator app. It’s kind of hard practicing your language skills when no one actually wants to try to communicate with you. But you are learning, just not as fast as you expected to, and since you already had a few years of Spanish classes in school you know most of the basics. You look up at the mechanic again and tilt your head a little bit to the side. “Say.. is there a good place for food around here? …that I can obviously reach by foot, that is.” He nods enthusiastically and gives you a reassuring tilt of his lips, a very kind smile. “Yea, actually just around the corner there is a little restaurant, if you don’t know about it I am sure many people would miss it. But when we moved here first this woman saved our asses. She doesn’t speak much English but just tell her I said hi and I bet she will cook you something very nice.” This actually sounds very nice you think to yourself and reach out your hand to give him a polite handshake. “Okay well thank you for the recommendation and also for trying to fix my car.” He accepts your handshake and chuckles lightly. “No worries and oh this should be easy to fix, gimme like let’s say two and a half hours and you can come back to a nice and well-working car.”

“Alright see you in two and a half hours then.” You wave your hand as you are saying goodbye to him and turn around to walk the other way. The streets of Puerto Lobos were alive with activity—children playing, street vendors selling vibrant fruits and handmade crafts, and the distant sound of a song coming from speakers out of one of these stores adding a festive backdrop to the scene. As you wandered, you felt the first inklings of belonging in this charming town. He told you that the little restaurant was just around the corner but honestly as much as you were looking for it you could not find it. Well, Mr. Diaz also mentioned that if you didn’t know that it’s there you would surely miss it. You knew about these types of Restaurants where it kind of almost looked like you would walk into somebody’s actual home, so you decided to try and look around as if you were a native to this city. Which in theory was easy, but actually doing it didn’t change the fact that you are in fact not a fucking native. Suddenly the smell of fresh herbs and spices caught your nose and you looked around trying to figure out where this smell came from. After looking around for a while you actually found a little house that grasped your interest. The door was wide open and from the outside, you could see a tiny woman cooking something up. “That must be it.”

Okay, now it would be time to pray that this woman would also actually understand what you want from her. “Please please, school just pay out this once.” you form your hands into a little prayer position as you walk up to the door.

“Hola.” You say stepping into the little restaurant. The woman looks up at you and goes back to whatever she was doing before. Okay… she definitely knows that you are not from around here, so now you gotta use your poor Spanish skills, your hands, and your feet. This is going to be fucking embarrassing.

“¿Puedo conseguir algo de comer aquí?” (can I get something to eat?) You ask while trying to do your best at pantomime. “Well, Mr. Diaz said you wouldn’t understand any English but he told me to say hi to you.” you felt like a total idiot talking English to this woman who obviously has no clue what you are trying to tell her. Though, as you say the name Diaz her head perks up and suddenly a lot of words that you do not understand are leaving her mouth at the speed of light. At first, you are a little unsure if she is mad and seconds away from kicking you out, but then she gives you a big smile and gestures to you to sit down. “Friend? Sean Diaz?” She asks with a heavy accent but you have no problem understanding that one word and the name of the mechanic. “Ah, Sí…” you say and nod your head while sitting down on one of the tables. She continues to speak Spanish but she doesn’t even really seem like she is trying to talk to you, more like she is talking to herself, so you are also not really trying to answer her.

It doesn’t even take her long before she places a beverage on your table and makes a gesture that shows you should wait some more. It is a hot day so you thank her enthusiastically and take one sip of the drink that immediately helps against your dry throat. You have absolutely no clue what’s in this drink but you couldn’t bother less, this was fucking good.

A few more minutes passed and the lady set down three big ass plates in front of you. Oh, how are you supposed to finish all of that?

You ate as much as you could and thanked the woman like five times because Sean Diaz was right. She is a hell of a good cook. In the end, you couldn’t finish all three plates and had a bunch of leftovers, however, you decided it might be nice to bring these leftovers with you back to the Diaz shop. That would be nice of you and totally not weird right?

Now just how were you going to ask her for bags?

It took some time but in the end, you just had to mention Sean’s name one more time, probably paid her way too much money and somehow you ended up with a bag and even more food. She put some dessert into the bag as well, even though you tried to stop her but honestly, you wouldn’t have wanted to put up a fight against this lady.

When you returned to the garage, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the floor. Sean was just finishing up with your car, and beside him stood a younger boy with a mischievous grin. He was animatedly talking about his day at school, and Sean listened with the patience and attention of someone who deeply cared.

"Hey, you’re back…just in time," Sean called out, noticing your approach. "This is my brother, Daniel."

Daniel turned to you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hi! Sean fixed your car already? He's really good at this stuff."

You smiled, introducing yourself and thanking Sean for his help. “You found the restaurant?” he asked, smiling sheepishly down at you. For a second you could feel yourself blush, but why? “Yea took me some time… also I hope this is not weird or anything but I brought you my leftovers plus additional dessert. This lady must really love you because as soon as I said your name she stuffed these cakes into the bag.” Daniels’s mouth opened wide as he walked towards you, eyes fixated on the bag. “Woah I love Mrs. Perez and this is so kind of you because you must know my brother is a horrible cook.” Sean laughed so loud and kind-heartedly it seemed to warm your insides. They really seem to be nice people. “Well, she knows I am a bad cook, that's why she filled up this whole bag.” his loud laughing swelled down to a little chuckle. “Well… that’s very kind of you… actually, I haven’t asked your name yet, have I?”

You shake your head and give him a reassuring smile, you couldn’t care less right now if this man asked you for your name because he already fixed your car and he made sure you got a shit ton of very good food. “Oh, I am (Y/N)” You set the bag down on a nearby table and watch as Daniel immediately goes to grab it and rummages through the bag. “Oh look Sean, she gave us Tarta de Queso!”

You and Sean both couldn’t help but laugh a little at Daniel, even though he looked around sixteen to seventeen he still seemed to be very excited when it came to dessert. “Well, Daniel I think it would only be nice to share some of this cake with (Y/N) since she is the one responsible for our dinner.” He pointed at the cake and then over to you. You wouldn’t have brought it up but you also couldn’t lie, you really wanted to try a piece of this really delicious-looking cake. Daniel sighed but chuckled a bit “That only seems fair.”

“Now I am going to pack this piece of cake up for you and then we will let you go, I am sure you have somewhere to be.” Said Sean as he took the bag and left you and Daniel alone in the garage. You and Daniel made some polite small talk, mostly talking about past experiences with the lady - or Mrs. Perez as you learned - from the restaurant.

Sean didn’t take long and came back to hand you your very own bag filled with some cake and also a few more pastries. He gave you a little wink and placed a finger to his lips, showing you to keep quiet probably because of Daniel. He also handed you the keys to your now-repaired car. "It should be as good as new. If you have any more trouble, just come by." “Thank you so so much, I wouldn’t know what I would have done without you today.” You sigh and grab your keys. “How much do I owe you for this?” You gesture to the car, knowing that you most definitely don’t have enough cash on you. Sean just chuckled and shook his head. “Ah don’t worry the first time is on the house… also you brought us this whole bag of food.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, on the house? Wow, these people really are kind. “Oh, this is…” You’re lost for words for a second. “This is really really kind of you thank you so much.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I like to help people out. Now if you ever need something just let us know.” He said as you slowly got into your car, nodded, and smiled up big at him. You wave to him and Daniel goodbye as you gently drive out of the garage.

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection forming. In this new place, amidst the beauty and simplicity of Puerto Lobos, you had found not just a skilled mechanic but potential friends in Sean and Daniel Diaz. Little did you know, this encounter was just the beginning of a journey that would intertwine your lives in ways you could never have imagined. authors note: omg okay I am so fucking nervous to post this, but also kind of excited!! I have been meaning to write a fic for quite some time now and I am so so happy to continue this story. If you've made it this far tysm and ily <3 I hope you liked the first chapter of my new story :) I already published it on ao3 (this was so tough to figure out since I never uploaded it on ao3 before) and I am still debating whether or not to post it on Wattpad as well. Anyway even though I am working on this fic now my requests are still open! might take me some time to finish them now, but I am so happy to be a part of this community :) <333

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