creativeashproductions

[creativeashproductions]

dirty laundry (two) ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: after a couple months of living together, you're still completely oblivious to how you affect jake and he's starting to spiral because now he's... feeling things

see PART ONE for the first half of this fic + author's notes, warnings, etc...

word count: 22046 (section two, 11909)

Jake doesn’t see you when you get home from lunch with Natasha—he’s already at Lana’s place. Or maybe it’s Lila? He’s not sure. He just knows it started with an L.

After washing two loads of your laundry—moving one from the dryer to your bed and the other into the dryer—he got a text from Lola saying she got off work early. So, naturally, he was on his way there within minutes.

Four rounds later—and one very close call where he almost said your name instead of Lily’s—he showered in her cramped little bathroom, got dressed, and drove home. Feeling a thousand times better than when he left. Thoroughly satisfied. And only a tiny bit guilty about what he’d done to himself earlier… while staring at your lingerie like a fucking perv.

That is, until he walks through the door and sees you—pantless again—bent over the kitchen counter in nothing but an oversized shirt, Chinese takeout menu in hand.

But not just any shirt. No. His shirt.

His.

“Oh, hey.” You straighten immediately, tugging the hem of the shirt down over your ass. “Sorry, didn’t think you’d be home yet. Want Chinese? I’ll go put some pants on.”

Before he can even blink, you’re gone—down the hall and into your bedroom.

You return a moment later in a loose pair of sleep shorts, smiling down at your phone like some idiot in love.

And something about that makes Jake want to roll his eyes.

“How was lunch?” he asks, picking up the takeout menu like he doesn’t already know exactly what he’s getting.

“Good,” you reply, eyes still glued to your screen. “Had fun.”

He nods even though you’re not looking and drops the menu back on the bench. “I’ll get the—”

“Beef and broccoli,” you interrupt, glancing up with a smirk. “And kung pao chicken. Side of steamed rice, vegetarian spring rolls. Extra soy sauce packets, two fortune cookies, and a Diet Coke.”

Jake’s heart leaps in his chest, skipping into an uneven rhythm as he just stares at you—brow furrowed, lips slightly parted. A mix of awe and confusion flickers across his face because… how do you know that? How do you know him that well?

Sure, it’s just a takeout order. But still. You knew. Without hesitation.

And there you are, standing in his shirt—his fucking shirt—looking like the most gorgeous woman on the planet, and God, he’s about to lose his damn mind.

He clears his throat, letting out what he hopes passes as an easy chuckle. “You’re good.”

You pretend to dramatically flip your hair off your shoulder. “I know. Now go pick a movie. I’ll order.”

He hesitates for a beat, watching as you grab the menu and start dialling the restaurant’s number into your phone. Then he shakes his head and moves into the living room, dropping into his usual spot on the couch.

An hour later, after scrolling through every single streaming app the squad collectively pays for, Jake finally settles on an old action movie you both know he’s seen a hundred times. But you also both know it’s his unspoken comfort film, and—thankfully—you don’t say anything. You just keep eating your Chinese food, eyes flicking between the TV and your relentlessly buzzing phone.

“That Justin?” Jake asks through a mouthful of beef.

You nod. “Yeah. Sorry. I can turn the vibration off if it’s annoying.”

Jake shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He swallows, watching as several more messages pop up in quick succession. “Wow. Guy’s not just a double-texter—he’s a quadruple-texter.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. Some women like communication. In fact, I’d argue that most do.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “You gonna like it when he’s banging on your door at two a.m. like a creepy stalker?”

You frown. “How does texting a few times in a row immediately equal stalking?”

“Because he’s clearly obsessed with you,” Jake says with a shrug. “And after one date? Kinda a red flag. I’d expect that level of energy after six months—maybe—not one night.”

You narrow your eyes. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

Jake laughs, low and quiet, eyes dropping to his bowl of beef and broccoli. “No pussy is that good.”

You snort—loudly. The sound is abrupt and completely unladylike, but Jake can’t help the way his eyes flick up to the giddy smile on your lips, the light blush creeping into your cheeks.

“Guess you’ll never know,” you say, eyes sparkling with amusement.

What he wouldn’t give to know...

“Guess I won’t,” he mutters, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth.

After a beat, you glance back over at him. “How was your day, anyway?”

He freezes mid-chew, eyes widening as heat crawls up the back of his neck.

“It—uh—it was good. Yeah. Fine. Why?”

You shrug. “Just wondering. Thanks for doing my laundry, by the way.”

He nods, clearing his throat. “Anytime.”

“Except I think this is your shirt,” you add, glancing down at yourself.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “It is. Sorry. Must’ve mixed some stuff up.”

“All good,” you say, light and casual—seemingly oblivious to the guilt scrawled across his face. “It’s comfy.”

He gives you a tight smile, eyes snapping back down to spear another floret of broccoli.

“Except I think you need to give it a hot wash,” you add.

His eyes flick back up, cheeks already burning. “Why?”

You pinch the hem of the shirt and rub the fabric between your fingers. “There’s a hard stain near the bottom, but I can’t tell what it is.”

Jake’s breath catches, lungs going tight.

You glance back up at him. “Did you spill maple syrup on it or something?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, heart pounding. “Yep. Maple syrup. This morning. Sorry.”

You frown, clearly dubious. “It’s fine. Not my shirt, remember? Besides, a hot wash will get that right out.”

He nods, shifting the bowl in his lap and praying to whatever god might listen to please, please reroute his blood flow. “Noted. Hot wash.”

You nod slowly, giving him a suspicious look before finally turning back to your dinner.

Once you’ve both finished dinner, Jake takes the dishes into the kitchen and washes up, glancing at the movie over his shoulder as it plays. When it ends, you grab the remote and declare that it’s your turn to pick the next film.

By the time he returns to the couch, you’re curled up right in the middle of it, leaving just a sliver of space on either side.

Which is fine. Totally and completely fine.

He grabs a blanket from the basket in the corner and drops down beside you, draping it over both your legs.

“Thanks,” you say with a soft smile. “Didn’t know you knew how to be sweet.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond. He’s not sure what he could say to that. Because, yeah. Jake didn’t know he could be sweet either.

Eventually, you settle on some spy-romance-thriller and toss the remote onto the coffee table before nestling in. You adjust the blanket and fluff the pillows until you’re perfectly comfortable. Jake watches, a little fascinated, and doesn’t even realise he’s staring until you shoot him a look.

“What?”

He blinks. “Nothing, sorry. Daydreaming.”

“Was your date that good you’re still thinking about her?” you ask with a soft laugh.

He frowns. “Date?”

“Sorry,” you amend. “Your hookup. Because I know, I know—Jake Seresin doesn’t date.”

“Exactly,” he says, giving you a little wink.

You pause, lifting a brow. “So... was it good?”

“What?”

You roll your eyes. “Your hookup. Jesus, where is your head at tonight?”

Still stuck on your dirty laundry, apparently.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. It was fine. Did the job.”

You scoff. “Did the job?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. That’s all I wanted. Bit of fun.”

You nod slowly, eyes narrowing like you’re trying to read his mind.

“You know,” he adds, “not every woman is out there hunting for Mr. Right. Some are more than happy with a Mr. Right Now. It’s easy. Fun. And you don’t have to worry about texting them the next day.”

Your brows shoot up. “Is that a dig at me?”

He chuckles quietly, glancing toward the forgotten movie. “Maybe.”

“Wow,” you say slowly, dry and sarcastic. “Well, Mr. Right Now, maybe you should watch what you say. Because one day, you’re going to fall in love. And it’s not going to be pretty. You’ll fall so hard and fast, you’ll forget your own name—and that’ll be karma for all the one-night stands and broken hearts you’ve left behind.”

He turns his head toward you, his expression flat even as the corner of his mouth twitches. “That so?”

You nod, firm. “Yep.”

“When that day comes, I’ll let you know,” he says, laughing quietly. “And I’ll apologise for being a dick. Maybe even take back what I said about your creepy stalker boyfriend. But don’t come crying to me when you find him breathing on your window in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes go wide, lips parting in disbelief, but the amusement still shines through. “Dude!”

He laughs again as you sit up, fully turning toward him.

“What?”

You gape at him, scandalised. Then you reach out and smack him on the shoulder—hard.

“Ow!” he barks, half laughing, half offended. “The hell was that for?”

“For being a dick!”

You go to hit him again, but Jake catches your wrist mid-air. “Uh-uh,” he grins. “Not happening twice.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, immediately swinging your other hand at him.

He catches that one too—easily—and in the same breath, he moves. Forward and up.

Shoving you onto your back like it’s nothing. Effortless.

Then he’s above you, pinning both your wrists above your head. The blanket is tangled somewhere beneath you, one of your knees brushing the outside of his thigh—and he’s close. Too close.

Every part of him is closer than you’ve ever been. His face hovers over yours, his chest inches from your breasts, his hips nearly aligned with yours. If he moved—just a fraction—he could press his half-hard dick right into the apex of your thighs.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. Eyes frantic. Searching his face like you might find some kind of answer for whatever just snapped and turned the air to static.

His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm. Certain. Unshakable. His gaze flicks between your mouth and your eyes like he can’t decide which is more dangerous.

“Still wanna hit me?” he murmurs, voice low, something dark and teasing threading through it.

You swallow. “Maybe.”

His mouth twitches—not quite a smile. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“So are you,” you breathe.

There’s a beat where neither of you moves. Just heat and tension and the sound of your combined breathing, louder than it should be.

Then—

“Truce,” you say, voice hoarse as you shift your wrists beneath his hands.

Jake hesitates. He wants to stay. Wants to press in, drag that single moment out until it breaks. But he knows. He knows he’s close to the edge, and if he goes any further, he might never come back from it.

So he lets go and sits back slowly, pulse hammering in his throat. “Truce,” he echoes.

You both move until you're upright again. Comfortable, but not really. Not anymore. There’s more distance between you now, but it doesn’t help.

Jake doesn’t reach for the blanket that you’ve stolen. He’s not cold anymore. In fact, he’s thinking about opening a window. Or the balcony door.

Maybe he should just do that—open the door and walk straight off the balcony.

Because now, his cock is throbbing—hard and heavy between his legs, hidden only by the way his knee is bent with one foot on the couch. It's aching. Begging.

For friction. For relief. For you.

The ninety-minute movie feels a hell of a lot longer than that in the stifling lounge room. Jake's raging hard-on barely lets up, and even when it does, you shift or sigh or stretch your neck in a way that makes it start aching again.

By the time the credits roll, Jake is dying to get to bed. He needs to go somewhere—anywhere—that you’re not. Away from your scent, your smile, your soft little laughs. God. He needs space.

“Alright,” you sigh, pushing up off the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. Not until you’re gone and he can hide his ridiculous boner.

“Oh,” you call back, halfway down the hall. “I’ll drive myself to base tomorrow.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You always carpool. Same apartment, same squad, same shift. It just makes sense.

“Justin’s coming over tomorrow night, and I don’t want to be late,” you reply. “And, no offence, but I can’t really rely on you to not be kept back.”

He gives you a flat look. “Rude. But whatever.”

You flash him a bright, cheesy smile before quickly ducking into your room. If it weren’t for the blush still clinging to your cheeks, he might think you’d already forgotten about what happened earlier.

But no. Your face is still very red.

And that leaves Jake feeling just a little bit smug as he takes himself—and his tragically horny dick—off to bed.

He barely sleeps all night. He tosses and turns, punching his pillow like that might stop his brain from looping thoughts of you. But every time he shuts his eyes—there you are. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing in the kitchen. Climbing out of your jet with a grin bright enough to eclipse the sun.

You’re stuck in his head. Lodged deep. Making his heart race and his blood flow in one, completely unhelpful, direction.

He wakes up rock hard at 1:27. Then 2:13. Then 3:45. And finally, at 4:36, he gives up entirely. He throws the blankets off, pulls on his gym clothes, and heads to base in the dark.

If he’s going to suffer, he might as well look good doing it.

Thirty minutes of bench, an hour of cardio, and fifteen furious pull-ups later, he still can’t stop picturing the way your tongue caught between your teeth when you giggled at him last night. Or the way your body squirmed beneath him—hips wriggling, wrists twisting—but you were so easy to hold down.

So easy to keep.

God. The things he could do with you pinned beneath him.

By the time Jake finally makes it to the hangar, his whole body is sore, his brain is fried, and he's teetering on the edge of a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Dude,” Javy says as he steps up beside him. “You look awful. Like you haven’t slept in three days. Are you sick?”

Jake shakes his head. “‘M fine. Jus’ tired.”

“Oh wow,” Natasha says, a grin creeping across her lips as she steps in front of them. “He’s regressed to single syllables.”

Javy chuckles. “And he’s slurring. Should we take him to the hospital?”

Jake clears his throat. “I am fine. Alright? Just leave it alone.”

Neither of their knowing smirks falter.

“Well,” Natasha says, eyeing him, her head tilting just slightly. “Judging by that reaction, I’d say you either drank an entire bottle of tequila to yourself last night or... you got rejected by a woman.”

Jake visibly flinches. His green eyes snap to her face, jaw tightening.

Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god. It’s the second one.”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but Javy cuts in with a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my God. This is historic,” he announces. “A woman said no to Jake Seresin and he hasn’t recovered.”

Jake turns toward him, arms crossing tightly over his chest. “Nobody got rejected, okay?!”

Natasha scoffs. “So you just happened to get no sleep, show up looking like a kicked puppy, and flinch like that when I mention rejection?”

Javy leans in, eyes comically wide. “And you liked her, didn’t you? That’s the twist. She actually meant something.”

Jake scowls, jaw working. He doesn’t meet either of their eyes.

Natasha whistles under her breath. “Well, shit.”

Javy beams. “This is a world first, ladies and gentlemen. Someone alert the Pentagon. Get a medal minted.”

“I hate both of you,” Jake mutters.

Natasha grins. “You’ll feel better after a flight. Or at least distracted.”

Javy shrugs. “Unless this mystery woman is on base too. Then you’re screwed. Emotionally and professionally.”

Jake doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. He just stares down the tarmac like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole.

Because yeah. The mystery woman—the one who’s messing with his head and making his pulse do weird shit—she’s on base. In fact, she’s walking across the flight line right now.

It isn’t long before Maverick arrives, rounding up the squad and announcing—with a shit-eating grin—that it’s ‘obstacle course day’. Which earns a hearty chorus of groans. But not from Jake, because this? He can do this. It’s work. It’s exercise. It’s a well-needed distraction.

Maverick starts by instructing the squad to jog the quarter-mile stretch from the hangar to the training field as a light warm-up—boots crunching on gravel, the sun barely up over the bay. Jake keeps his eyes forward, jaw tight. He can hear you somewhere behind him, chatting—somewhat breathlessly—with Natasha, but he doesn't dare look. He can’t. Not if he wants to stay focused.

Once you all reach the field, Maverick starts barking about how the conditioning course will be run. Then he tells everyone to lose their flight suits and warm up properly.

“Valkyrie!” he shouts after a few jumping jacks. “Quit talking. Focus up.”

You clamp your mouth shut and give Natasha a subtle sidelong glance. Jake’s not stupid—he knows that means you’ll finish telling her whatever you were saying later. Probably something about Justin.

After a thirty-minute warm-up, everyone gets ready to start. The shit-talking begins, and the sun slowly rises, bathing the training field in warm orange light.

Jake is ready—so ready. His gaze is narrowed, his limbs loose, and he’s excited to do something other than jerk off and think about you, goddamnit. He’s excited to do something he’s good at. To show off a little. Because this obstacle course? He eats this shit for breakfast.

Or at least, he used to.

Rope climb, monkey bars, vertical walls, balance beams—he’s usually halfway through his second lap by the time everyone else finishes one. But today?

Today, he misses the jump onto the cargo net.

He slips on the damn rope wall.

He lands wrong coming off the balance beam and has to catch himself with a sharp hiss through his teeth.

“Jesus, Hangman,” Mav calls out from the sidelines, brows raised. “You drunk?”

Jake doesn’t answer. He just resets and pushes off again, heart hammering harder than it should be. His palms are slick and his jaw aches from how tightly he’s clenching it. He feels like one big bruise, and he knows he’s going to feel this shit for the next two weeks.

Reuben jogs past and claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Careful, man. You keep biffing it like this and they’re going to revoke your golden boy status.”

Jake forces a laugh through his teeth, but it’s tight. Shaky.

He’s fine. He just didn’t sleep. He just... pushed too hard at the gym. He just—

His eyes flick sideways.

You’re across the course, waiting your turn, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your neck. You’re smiling at something Bradley said, adjusting your gloves as you watch the others ahead of you.

You’re not even looking at him.

With a light shake of his head, Jake turns his gaze ahead and—

Misses the next rung on the monkey bars.

“God dammit,” he mutters under his breath, dropping to the ground.

Javy stops nearby, eyebrows raised. “Dude. What is going on with you today?”

Jake doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even have words for the pressure building behind his ribs—like a grenade with the pin pulled halfway out. Everything’s too loud. Too hot. Too much. You’re everywhere. In his head. Under his skin. Burned into his eyes.

He’s not flustered. He doesn’t get flustered.

He’s just... distracted. Yeah. That’s all.

He grits his teeth and tries again. Then gets halfway before slipping—again. His hand slams into the rung too late, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself before eating shit in front of everyone.

“Focus up, Hangman!” Mav barks. “You’re better than this!”

Jake bites the inside of his cheek until it stings. His lungs burn. His arms feel like they’re made of lead.

Across the course, Natasha slows, watching him quietly. Her brow creases just slightly.

Her sharp eyes follow his line of sight and easily catch the way his gaze flicks toward you—quick, but not quick enough.

Her head tilts.

“Interesting,” she mutters to herself.

She picks up her pace and moves through the course with practiced ease, quickly joining Jake where he’s crumpled beneath the monkey bars.

“Pull it together, cowboy,” she says. “Don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your mystery girl.”

Jake’s stomach drops.

What the fuck?

His wide eyes meet hers, brown and sparkling with mischief.

“What did you just say?” he asks, voice hoarse.

She grins wickedly. “Nothing, Bagman. Now get up before Mav sees you slacking off again.”

His heart beats faster than it should. Too fast. Too heavy.

How does she know? She can’t know.

There’s nothing to know.

You’re just his roommate. A friend. A pain in the ass. That’s all.

He just needs to sort his head out.

He just needs to stop thinking about your body under his. Your laugh in his ears. Your wrists in his hands.

With a quiet growl, Jake pushes himself up and resets. Then he lurches forward, fingers grasping for the bar—but he misses. By half an inch.

The day couldn’t be over fast enough. Everyone is breathless and sweaty by the time Maverick dismisses the squad, but no one is as battered and bruised as Jake. He feels like he’s been thrown out of a moving truck—and run over for good measure. Everything hurts.

“Hey,” you say quietly, almost carefully, as you approach him. “You alright?”

You’ve got your bag over your shoulder and your sunglasses perched on your head. Ready to leave base. To go home and wait for Justin to come over.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “just tired today. That’s all.”

You nod slowly, the corner of your lips twitching. “You—uh, you took quite the beating out there.”

He can’t help but smile at you and the way you’re trying so hard not to laugh at his shitty day. “I know. Thought I’d let someone else get best time for once.”

You arch a brow. “Really? You decided to let the whole squad make better time than you?”

He chuckles softly, letting his head fall back. “The whole squad beat me? Well, shit, baby, I guess I gotta step up my game next time.”

He freezes, and you do too, both of you just staring at each other as that little pet name hangs between you like a held breath.

He clears his throat. “Uh... I mean, y’know, gotta bring my A-game next time.”

You nod slowly, letting out a soft, uncertain laugh. “Yeah. You better. Or Mav might kick you off the squad.”

Silence hangs, thick and heavy. Jake wants to say something—make a joke or a snarky remark—but his voice is caught somewhere deep in his chest.

“Seresin,” Javy interrupts, clapping a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You almost done, or...?”

He steps up beside the two of you, eyes darting back and forth as his brow knits. He's not stupid. He can clearly sense that there's something painfully awkward hanging in the air.

You raise your brows and take an unsteady step back. “I was just going to say, let me know if you’re home for dinner. I’m making nachos, but I always make way too—”

“Won’t be,” Jake cuts in. “Mav asked me to stay back. Again. Paperwork.”

“Oh,” you frown, just slightly. “Must’ve missed that. All good. See you later.” Then you turn to Javy and flash him wide smile. “Bye, Coyote.”

He gives you a lazy salute. “See ya, Val.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Jake standing there slack-jawed and utterly defeated.

Javy clears his throat, the grin on his lips turning wicked. “So...?”

Jake’s eyes snap to him. “What?”

Javy raises his brows. “Mav didn’t ask you to stay back.”

“I know,” Jake says, turning back to try and remember what he was filling out a maintenance log for. “She’s got a guy coming over, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but I figured she’d be happier if I wasn’t there.”

Javy nods slowly, looking entirely unconvinced. “Right. Okay. So, you were being a good roommate?”

“Exactly.”

There’s a split second of silence where Javy steps even closer, invading Jake’s space as he leans against the wall and tips his head forward. “Want to talk about it?”

Jake doesn’t even look up. “Talk about what?”

Javy shrugs. “Don’t know. Got anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Jake snaps.

“Alright,” Javy says, pushing off the wall. “You just keep jerking off to your roommate until you die of dehydration. See what I care.”

Jake’s eyes go wide. He chokes on nothing—just air. When he finally turns around, Javy is already gone, striding across the hangar the same way you did. But he’s got a noticeable pep in his step, clearly fucking thrilled with himself for figuring this one out.

After a brief, mostly internal meltdown in the locker room, Jake packs up his gear and heads off base. He sits in his car for twenty minutes, scrolling through texts from a few women he’d messaged earlier, and thankfully, one of them tells him to get his gorgeous ass over to her place right now—no questions asked. So he does exactly that.

The drive is only ten minutes, but it rattles his nerves. Not because he’s worried about this woman—no, that would be ridiculous. He’s worried about you. Or more precisely, what Natasha and Javy think they know about you.

Which is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Because there’s nothing there.

You’re just his roommate. His ridiculously good-looking, maddeningly sexy, impossibly charming roommate. Two months of living together and sure, some weird feelings have popped up. Strange, shallow stuff. Surface-level. All about your ass, your tits, and whatever else Jake usually notices.

But that’s it. That’s all there is.

He hasn’t noticed the soft melody beneath your laugh. Or the way your lips twitch when you bite back a snarky comment. Or how your tongue drags slowly over your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought.

He hasn’t noticed any of it.

And this guy—Justin? Jake couldn’t care less about who you’re with. That’s your business, not his. He’s just glad you’re getting some.

Just like he is. Right now. With a woman who’s perfectly attractive, even if she doesn’t look, smell, or sound like you. But hey, that’s a good thing, right?

“Baby, c’mere,” Sienna—Jake thinks—croons, reaching across the couch. “Why you sittin’ so far away, hm?”

He shifts closer to the red-headed woman, trying hard not to breathe in the candy-cane scent of whatever glittery body lotion she uses. He remembers that it was overwhelming last time, but this time it’s just making him feel downright sick.

“You really come over here just to watch a movie?” she asks, eyes flicking between Jake’s face and the TV.

His green eyes are glued to the screen. Not because it’s interesting—it’s really not—but because it’s the same spy-romance-thriller you picked last night, and he wants to know if it was actually any good. Since he missed most of it trying to focus on hiding his raging boner.

“Come on,” Sabrina—maybe—sighs, trailing a manicured nail down the line of his jaw. “I got all pretty for you.”

Jake’s eyes flick toward her, lips twitching into a tight smile. She’s not ugly—far from it—but maybe she’s just not his type. Or maybe he doesn’t have a type anymore. Because despite the fact that they both know exactly what he came here for, he can’t seem to want it.

And what’s worse? He can’t get hard. At all.

“Sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Just—uh, just trying to get work out of my head. You know?”

She nods slowly. “Okay, baby. Well... what if I get us a bottle of wine? Take the edge off.”

Before he can respond, she’s already off the couch and sauntering toward the kitchen. Jake doesn’t care. Honestly, he’s just relieved to get a breath of air that doesn’t reek of unicorn-scented body lotion.

He’s been here nearly two hours. They started making out the second he walked in the door, but it didn’t him take long to realise that absolutely nothing was stirring in his pants. So he’d asked for a minute to decompress, maybe watch something first. Hit reset.

But truthfully? He doesn’t want to get to it. Which is absurd, considering the weekend he just had—fighting off boners left, right, and centre.

“Red or white, baby?” Serena—possibly—calls from the kitchen.

Jake opens his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzes first. Lighting up with your goofy caller ID photo—a close-up of you in your flight helmet, blurry and ridiculous, pulling a face way too close to his camera lens.

His lips twitch as he swipes the green button.

“Hey?”

“Jake,” you say, breathless.

His stomach drops. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Jakey!” Selena—or whatever—calls again. “Red or—?”

“I don’t care!” Jake snaps. “Either’s fine.” Then he lowers his voice, speaking softly into the phone. “Sorry. I’m here. What’s up?”

“A-Are you still on base or...?”

“No, I’m—um, I’m at a friend’s place,” he says quickly. “But that doesn’t matter. You sound stressed. What’s going on?”

“Oh.” You hesitate, voice suddenly too high, clearly realising what you’ve interrupted. “No, it’s fine. I didn’t know you were... with someone.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologise,” he says, already standing. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, honestly—”

“Tell me.”

“Seriously, dude,” you sigh. “I’m fine. It’s just—the power went out, but I’m pretty sure it’s only our apartment. So I guess that means it’s... I don’t know. A fuse? The circuit thing? I figured you’d know. But really—it’s fine. I’ll call building maintenance.”

“No, no,” Jake says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch. “I’ll come home, I can—”

“Jake,” you cut him off. “Don’t. Please don’t. Have your fun, I’ll figure it out.”

He pauses, brow furrowed, suddenly remembering why he came to Sierra’s place. “Wait. Where’s Justin?”

“Oh, he’s not coming over. Got caught up at work or something.”

“Right,” he mutters, peering toward the kitchen. “Just—just stay put. I’ll be home soon.”

“No. Please,” you say, and there’s something strained in your voice. Something off. “Don’t bail on your hookup just for me. I’ll call Phoenix or Rooster, see if either of them knows what to do. Okay?”

His heart is pounding now, hard and fast, making it impossible to think. But he knows better than to argue. He knows better than to ditch a hookup for you. Because he knows what that would mean.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But call me if you need me to come home. I won’t be late.”

“I will. I promise,” you say, voice softer now. “Now go get some. Lord knows you need the ego boost after today.”

He chuckles, closing his eyes and picturing the smile on your face. The one that makes him feel like he’s seventeen again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Bagman.”

Then you hang up, leaving Jake alone with the dial tone and a weird, hollow ache blooming in his chest.

“Everything okay?” Sasha asks, brows drawn.

Jake frowns, staring down at the phone in his hands. His stomach churns, chest tightens. He can’t breathe. His tongue feels heavy, and his voice is lodged somewhere in his throat.

“Jakey?” she presses. “You don’t look good.”

“Gotta go,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

“You what?”

“I—I have to go. My roommate, she—”

“Your cousin?” Sydney interrupts.

“No,” Jake’s frown deepens. “My roommate.”

Simone frowns. “Yes, your roommate who’s also your cousin. The one you—”

“She’s not my fucking cousin!” he snaps, louder than he means.

Sandy startles, eyes narrowing. “You said she was—”

“She’s my roommate,” he says, voice firm. “Just my roommate. Actually, no—she’s my friend, and part of my squad.”

Samantha raises an eyebrow. “Your squad?”

“Yes. Squad.” Jake runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Because I’m a naval aviator. Which you’d know if either of us bothered remembering anything about each other.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you’re in the Navy. So what if I forget what you do?” Then she props a hand on her hip. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“I just—” He takes a deep breath. “I—I need to go home, okay?”

“What? Why? Because of your roommate?”

“Yes. Because of her.” He slides his arms into his jacket. “The power went out and she needs help.”

“The power went out?” Samara echoes, incredulous. “And you have to go home, or what? She’ll die?”

Jake frowns. “No, she won’t—I mean, it’s not life or death, but—”

“Seriously,” Summer cuts in, “what the fuck is your problem tonight?”

“My problem?” Jake narrows his eyes. “My problem is that I can’t just ignore my roommate when she needs me.”

Sadie arches a perfectly plucked brow. “She doesn’t need you, Jake. She’s a grown woman.”

“Well, maybe I need her!” Jake blurts.

The words scorch his tongue, slam into his chest, and steal the air from his lungs. His breath catches—shaky, shallow. Every nerve ending feels raw, exposed—like frayed wires sparking and crackling, desperate for ground. If anyone else touches him now, he might short-circuit. Blow apart.

He needs you. Only you. You’re the only safe harbor, the only grounding wire strong enough to steady this storm raging inside him. The only one who can reach in, hold on, and fix what’s broken.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely audible. “Shit. I—uh, I gotta go.”

He grabs his keys off the coffee table and shrugs his jacket on properly. He barely looks at the woman staring at him in utter disbelief—just nods and turns toward the door. “Thanks, uh… Sabrina? Samara?”

Then he’s gone. Out the door, down the stairs, across the street, and into his car.

The second he slams the driver’s side door closed, the silence wraps around him like a vice. It’s too quiet, too sharp. His pulse is too loud. And the second the engine turns over, he’s spiralling.

I need her?

He says it again—in his head—and it lands like a punch to the ribs. A silent admission, a whisper amongst whirling thoughts.

Fuck. He grips the wheel tighter.

I need her.

He’s known you for years. Years. Since before flight school. Since that first day at the Academy when you smiled at him like you already knew he was trouble. He remembered that smile for weeks. Thought about it during PT. Laughed about it in the mess hall when his bunkmates gave him shit for getting flustered.

But you barely looked at him again. Not until North Island.

And even then, he didn’t realise what was happening. Not when you moved in. Not when you started stealing his socks or fake-kissing his cheek to get rid of the girls who wouldn’t leave the next morning. Not when you started saving him—over and over again—with a raised eyebrow and a sharp little smile, acting like his wife, or cousin, or federal agent.

He should’ve known.

He did know. Somewhere deep down, his body knew before his head did. That’s why no one else ever stuck. Why no other woman ever made it past two nights. He kept telling himself it was just about sex. That the feelings he had were just surface level—just instinct. Biology. Whatever.

But the truth is, no one ever stood a chance. Not when your laugh still echoes in his head days after he hears it. Not when the soft sound of your footsteps across the apartment floor is more familiar to him than his own breathing. Not when you’re the first person he wants to see when something good happens. Or something bad.

Jesus.

He runs a hand through his hair, breath catching. His throat’s tight. His chest aches.

All this time. All this pretending. And he still didn’t see it.

He’s not in control. He never was.

He’s in love with you.

And suddenly it’s not even a question of what if.

He wishes it were.

But it’s just fact. Solid and terrifying. A truth that makes his heart race and his hands shake.

He presses harder on the gas. He just needs to get home.

To you.

He drives like he has nothing to lose—even though right now, he knows he has everything to lose. He’s headlong and reckless, speeding, weaving through traffic, taking corners too fast. Pulling moves that could easily earn him a suspension or, worse, a formal reprimand from the Navy.

But he doesn’t care. Because fourteen minutes later, he’s outside your building, practically falling out of his car and hurrying through the lobby like a lunatic.

He jabs at the elevator buttons, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the carriage crawls upward. When it finally opens on your floor, he squeezes out and bolts down the hallway, fumbling with his keys like his hands forgot how to work.

His head is spinning. His fingers are numb. He can barely breathe, let alone think straight—and less than a foot from the door, the keys slip from his grasp.

“Shit,” he mutters, crouching down to pick them up.

Then—

Laughter. Your laughter.

Light and soft, threaded with that hidden melody that’s burrowed into the deepest parts of his memory.

He freezes, eyes flicking to the sliver of light glowing beneath the door. Power. The power’s back on.

Another muffled laugh, and his stomach drops so hard and fast he’s surprised it doesn’t fall out of his ass.

Maybe it’s just Phoenix? Or Rooster? You did say you were going to call—

“Justin,” you giggle, from somewhere inside, “stop it, I’m trying not to spill it.”

All the blood drains from Jake’s face. He just stands there, pale and slack-jawed, staring at the door like it just punched him in the chest.

His fingers twitch, trying to remember how to move. His whole body feels heavy. Numb. Weighted down by the brutal whiplash of emotional discovery and the gut-punch of reality.

He’s not even sure he has the nerve to walk in.

But after a long moment—too long—he takes a breath, deep and unsteady, and slides the key into the lock.

He pushes the door open and steps inside, kicking his boots off as his eyes land on you in the living room. You’re holding a glass of wine in one hand, and the other is resting—way too high—on Justin’s leg.

Jake isn’t sure what he expected Justin to be like, but whatever it was, this isn’t it. The guy is tall—maybe taller than Jake—with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. Pale, but not scrawny. Broad shoulders. Thick legs. He looks like a lumberjack—minus the flannel. Practically Jake’s polar opposite. He doesn’t look like he belongs in San Diego, and he definitely doesn’t look like he belongs beside you.

“Jake?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Hi,” he mutters, eyes still locked on Justin.

“I didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”

He shrugs. “Came to fix the power. But I can see that’s no longer an issue.” His eyes narrow. “Thought Justin wasn’t coming over.”

Justin shifts uncomfortably, easing his hand away from your leg.

“Oh,” you say, standing up. “Right. Sorry. Jake, this is Justin. Justin—Jake.”

“Hangman,” Jake says flatly.

You frown. “That’s his callsign.”

“That’s right,” Justin says, offering a polite chuckle. “You’re a fighter pilot too.”

“Naval aviator,” Jake replies, enunciating each word.

You shoot him a look—eyes wide, brow furrowed. Like, what the fuck?

“Right, yeah,” Justin says quickly. “That’s what I meant.”

You take a long sip of your wine before clearing your throat. “Justin was stuck at work, but after I called, like, the whole squad, he was my last hope. He came right over and found the circuit breaker on his way up.”

“Great,” Jake mutters, tone dry. “He’s a double-texter and he knows where the circuit breakers are.”

Your eyes go wide. “Jake. What the fuck?”

“What?” he asks, shrugging like he’s not being a complete dick. “Not saying I’m not grateful. Just takes some balls, showing up after being—what? Plan Z?”

“Jake!”

“Okay,” Justin says quietly, pushing up from the couch. “I’m just gonna go.”

You turn to him. “No, no. Don’t. He’s just being—”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Jake says, already swinging it open.

You whip back toward him. “Jake. Stop.”

“It’s fine,” Justin mutters. “I’m going. You two can… sort this out.”

Jake watches your jaw clench, your eyes slashing toward him in a lethal glare. But he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Justin, I’m so sorry,” you sigh.

Jake’s eye twitches when your hand wraps around Justin’s arm, rubbing up and down like you’re trying to soothe him. The sight alone sparks something hot and bitter behind his sternum.

He steps aside as you both move toward the door, still holding it open like he’s doing everyone a favour.

“It’s alright,” Justin says softly, crooking a finger beneath your chin. “Call me, yeah?”

“I will,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, gorgeous.”

You sigh, stepping back—and that’s all the cue Jake needs. He lets the door slam shut in Justin’s face, a solid final barrier between the two of you.

Relief floods through him—but it’s short-lived. Because before he can even blink, you turn on him, gaze fixed and deadly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit, eyes narrowed and brows tightly drawn. “Justin was being perfectly polite. He came over here and did us a favour. Then you walk in all rude and territorial—you might as well have just pissed on me!”

Jake chokes on his own breath, coughing softly as he lifts a hand to his chest. “I—”

“Like, seriously!” you go on, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been acting weird the past few days for God knows what reason, and you’re letting it affect you at work. Then you ditch a hookup—which is not very Hangman of you—just to come home and act like a dick?” You pause, wide eyes trained on him. “Do you know how hard it was to convince Justin that there’s nothing going on between you and me? And now what’s he going to think?”

Jake can feel his heart beating in his throat. Loud, heavy, fast. His stomach—if it’s even still in his body—feels like it’s been turned inside out. He can barely breathe, barely think.

“B-Between us?” he stammers out—the only fragment of your rant that seemed to stick.

You roll your eyes, propping your hands on your hips. “Yes, Jake. I live with a young, attractive, single man... of course Justin is going to think there’s something more going on. It’s the same with you and your hookups. But I’m not going to lie to him and tell him you’re my fucking cousin. Because I like him.”

Those last three words feel like a punch to Jake’s gut, winding him.

“You like him?” he asks, voice quiet—strained.

“Yes,” you say, firm—despite blinking a little too fast, which Jake knows is your tell. “And you’re not allowed to have a problem with that. I mean...” You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging as you step closer to him. “What is going on with you? You—You look sick. Are you okay?”

For a second, he doesn’t answer. He can’t.

Because no, he’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay since that night he walked through the door and heard you with someone else. His stomach is in knots, his chest feels too tight, and his skin is buzzing like his nerves are misfiring. He’s pale, yeah, because all the blood is either in his head or his heart and both of them are screaming.

He’s exhausted. Not from the day, but from pretending. From biting his tongue and keeping his distance and playing the roommate, the friend, the flirt with no feelings who knows better than to touch what he can’t have.

His pulse thunders in his ears. His throat aches with everything he hasn’t said. His hands are curled into fists at his sides because if he doesn’t hold something back, he’s going to break.

He looks at you—really looks—and it just… hits him. Hard. Like gravity, or fate, or something heavy and persistent that just won’t let go.

“I—I think I love you,” he mutters, voice low—wrecked.

You startle, eyes growing even wider as you stumble back a step. “What?”

He clears his throat, wishing his heart would stop beating so damn fast. “I’m in love with you.”

Your throat bobs as you swallow hard, eyes glossing over. You take a hesitant step back, like you need the distance just to stop yourself from falling into him.

He wishes you’d let yourself.

“Jake...” you whisper, “y-you’re not in love with me. You can’t be.”

Another punch to the gut. This time harder, lower.

“Why?”

“Because,” you say, eyes flicking toward the floor as you shake your head. “You’re you. Jake. Hangman. You—You’re in love with what you can’t have. The idea of me, maybe. But you’re not in love with me.”

Jake feels like his ribs are splitting—cracking wide open to expose his trembling, bleeding heart. Nothing protecting it as you reach in and rip it apart.

“Why—Why would you say that?” he asks, voice soft, breathing ragged.

“Because I know you!” you say, probably a little louder than intended. “And the woman you fall in love with—really fall in love with—is going to be so special. She’s going to be sexy and funny, and shine so brightly that you forget about all the others, but...” You take a shaky breath. “I’m not that girl, Jake.”

He wants to scream. He wants to run. He wants to reach out to you and tell you—show you—that there’s no one else on this earth that could possibly be that girl.

It’s you. It’s always been you. It always will be you.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, a single tear falling down your cheek. “I just—I think we both need some space, don’t you?”

Jake can’t respond. Can’t say anything. His voice is stuck beneath the lump in his throat, and if he tries to dislodge it, he might just fall apart.

“I—I know it’s probably been a little confusing because we’ve gotten so close,” you continue, swiping at the tears on your cheeks. “And that’s my fault, I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure we kept boundaries and stayed out of each other’s way, but I—I don’t know. I like being close with you, Jake. Being your friend.”

Friend. Ugh.

“And I know you love me,” you add, stepping forward again. “Because I love you too. The same way I love the whole squad.”

At this point, Jake’s not even sure if you’re trying to make things better or worse.

“Let’s just—” You hesitate, your hand twitching like you might reach for him, but you stop yourself. “Let’s forget this happened, okay? Start fresh. Set some boundaries, take a little space. And eventually you’ll see that whatever you think you’re feeling is just... fondness. Platonic.”

Jake isn’t sure what to say—he’s not even sure he can say anything. You’re staring at him with wide, glassy eyes, and it takes everything in him not to break. He sees the tremble in your hands, the slight quiver of your bottom lip. And so he does what he knows he has to do.

He agrees.

“Okay.”

You step forward again, a shaky smile flickering on your lips as your fingers curl gently around his wrist. “Thank you. And—And I’m sorry. I know this is confusing, I just... I don’t want to lose you. You’re one of my closest friends.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line, holding his breath like that might hold everything else in place.

For a moment, neither of you move. Then slowly, your hand falls away.

Jake searches your face, green eyes scanning like they’re trying to catch a flicker of something—anything—that might tell him you don’t mean it. That you’re lying. That you feel it too.

But all he finds is sadness, and tears, and a wall where there used to be warmth.

He ducks his head, steps aside, and walks quickly toward his room. The door slams shut behind him, and he slumps against it, head thudding back against the wood.

“Fuck,” he mutters, throat tight, eyes burning.

You might be confused. You might even be scared. But Jake’s not.

He’s knows he’s in love with you.

- You -

Two. Weeks.

It’s been fourteen fucking days since Jake Seresin told you he’s in love with you.

How are you even supposed to function after a confession like that? How are you expected to keep breathing, keep moving, keep waking up every day just to see his face? At home and at work. Because the universe is some cruel sadist.

Or maybe you’re just a masochist.

After all, you were the one who agreed to move in together.

But he didn’t mean it, right?

He was just caught up in the moment, confused by proximity or friendship—or simply feeling something for the first time in his life. Jake Seresin doesn’t do emotion, so of course he’s going to be confused when he starts caring about someone other than himself. He’s never had a close female friend—not like this. He’s just… not thinking straight.

But you? You can’t stop thinking. About him. His face. His stupid smile. The way he says your name, and the shape his lips make when he does.

About how gorgeous he is—not in the over-the-top way, with his hair done just right, clean-shaven, mess dress pressed to perfection—but in the quiet way. When he’s in sweats and nothing else, his skin warm, hair a mess, lying on the couch like some off-duty Greek Adonis. He doesn’t even know he’s beautiful in those moments. And those are the moments you can’t stop thinking about.

You can’t get his eyes out of your head. His smile that crooks a little higher on one side, just for you. The way he smells like cedarwood and jet fuel. The way his warmth finds the deepest parts of you whenever he gets just a little too close.

You’ve always known he’s good-looking, since the very first day you met him. That’s not news. What is news is the way your stomach flips whenever someone even mentions his name. How your skin heats up when you remember the look on his face right before he said it—I’m in love with you. The rawness in his voice. The way it felt so real.

And maybe the worst part is, you don’t know if you regret what you said… or if you’re just terrified that you meant it. That you pushed him away not because you didn’t feel it, but because you did—so much it scared you.

Because two weeks ago, you were doing just fine repressing every unusually warm feeling you had about Jake. Everything that wasn’t totally platonic. But now, it feels like there’s a crack in the floodgates—and you’re one rainstorm away from drowning in everything you’ve tried so hard not to feel.

“Japanese or Mexican?” Justin asks, phone held up to his nose as he scrolls through the food delivery app.

How is it down to Japanese or Mexican? They’re not even close. No one in the history of the world has ever been torn between sushi and tacos. It just doesn't make sense.

“I don’t mind,” you mutter. “Not really hungry.”

He sighs, dark eyes flicking toward you. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been distant all week. I’m surprised I finally got you to come around.”

You’ve only seen Justin once since the incident—just long enough to apologise and swear, honestly, that there’s nothing going on between you and Jake. After that, your replies slowed, you stopped checking your phone for his name, and a small, quiet part of you hoped he’d just... give up.

“Yeah, sorry. Work is just—”

“Work?” he cuts in, raising a brow.

You nod. “Work.”

“Right,” he mutters, glancing back down at his phone. “Let’s do Japanese.”

God. You’re not even hungry—and raw fish and seaweed sounds borderline offensive right now.

An hour later, your untouched dinner is still on the coffee table while Justin chuckles at some formulaic comedy—the canned laughter pressing into your skull like static. You’re sitting close, but it feels wrong. Like the space between you and him is closing in, pressing down on your chest. His thigh brushes yours and you force yourself not to flinch, pasting on a polite smile even though your skin is already crawling.

It’s not that he’s doing anything overtly wrong—he’s being perfectly nice, charming in that clean-cut, eager-to-please way. But every laugh feels too loud, every compliment a little too rehearsed. You nod, you smile, you even let him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—and instantly wish he hadn’t. It doesn’t make you warm. It doesn’t make you flutter. It just makes you want to lean away.

Because the truth is, he’s not Jake.

And now you finally know what that’s supposed to feel like—real connection, real tension, real... something.

“How is he?” Justin asks suddenly.

You blink. “Who?”

“Jake,” he says, frowning. “You just said he’d hate this movie.”

You did?

“I did?”

He nods. “Yeah. I asked if you wanted to change it and you said, ‘Jake would’ve turned it off ten minutes ago’.”

Shit.

“Right,” you mumble, shaking your head. “Sorry. He’s okay. I think. I don’t really know. We haven’t talked in… a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “He’s been distant. We’ve been giving each other space.”

Justin smiles, a little too easily. “That’s good. You need boundaries, right? Living together and working together—it’s a lot.”

You hum, noncommittal, eyes glued to your untouched plate of sushi.

You used to know exactly where Jake’s boundaries were. Now all you can see are the ones you put up—and how much it’s starting to hurt having them there.

After Justin clears the takeout containers and pours you a glass of wine, he nestles even closer on the couch. The lame movie is drawing to a close—you can tell—but he makes no move to grab the remote. Instead, he leans in, sliding an arm around your shoulders and pulling your body to his.

Your stomach twists, and that familiar ache wells at the back of your throat—but right now, you’re not sure if it’s tears or nausea. Or both.

You swallow hard and take a shallow, shaky breath before turning toward him. You’re not stupid—you know what he wants. So you force yourself to try.

Your breath catches as his lips brush yours—tentative at first, then deeper, more insistent. You slide your hands up his chest, to his shoulders, fingers digging in as you try to relax your rigid posture. To lean in to him.

He shifts your bodies until you’re lying back, trying desperately to forget the knot twisting inside of you. His hands find your wrists, gently moving them above your head and pinning them against the couch armrest. Your heart races, but not with desire—with memory.

Suddenly, it’s not Justin’s hands you feel.

It’s Jake’s—rough, familiar, impossible to forget. Wrapped around your wrists, pinning you down with ease.

Your mind flashes back to that night. The tension, the heat, the rawness. His eyes blazing, chest heaving. The way his breath ghosted over your damp lips, sparking fire right between your legs.

You moan involuntarily, but it’s not Justin’s name on your lips.

“Jake...” you whisper, breathless.

The body above you freezes. Then pulls back.

Justin just stares, wide-eyed, brows drawn tight. “What the fuck?”

“I—” you try, but the words catch in your throat.

He sits back, scooting as far away from you as the couch allows.

“Justin—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Just don’t, alright? I knew it.”

You frown. “Knew what?”

“I fucking knew there was something going on between the two of you.”

You shake your head. “There isn’t—”

“Don’t give me bullshit,” he says. “I’m not stupid. I didn’t even have to meet the guy to know. Just the way you spoke about him. The way you talked about him—it was non-fucking-stop. Do you know you talked more about Jake than yourself on our first date?”

Your eyes go wide, realisation thrumming hard through your veins.

Fuck.

It really has always been Jake. From the very first moment you met him—the way you refused to acknowledge him, convinced yourself he was just some pretty boy you wanted nothing to do with.

Then again at flight school. He was impossible to ignore. Always creeping into your thoughts and dreams, weaving himself deeper than you ever meant to let him.

TOPGUN. North Island. Moving in together. All of it, some cruel, subconscious prank you’ve been playing on yourself—just waiting for the moment you’d finally wake up and realise he’s not just Jake. Not just Hangman. Not to you.

To you, he’s everything.

Why else did you enjoy getting rid of his hookups so much? Why else did you even do it—if not to placate that deep, gnawing jealousy clawing at the corners of your mind?

A sharp ache blooms in your chest, and the tears come fast, unbidden—slipping down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re not sure if it’s heartbreak or relief—or both. You’re crying for the truth you refused to see, for the walls you built, for the fear that maybe you’ve left it too late.

“Fuck,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I—I have to go.”

Before Justin can respond, you’re already on your feet, grabbing your things with trembling hands. You don’t look back as you step out the door, stumbling down the front steps and across the street.

You don’t care how it looks. You just need to get out of here.

You need to go home.

You need Jake.

The drive home is sketchy at best. You can barely see through your tears, and your chest is so tight you can’t take a proper breath. But somehow, you make it.

You park, climb out of the car, cross the street, and stumble through the lobby. You mash the elevator button like the extra pressure might make it come faster. It doesn’t.

When the doors finally open, you squeeze in—then out again, rushing down the hall with your keys already in hand. You fumble at the lock, find the right one, shove it in and force the door open, practically falling inside.

It’s dark. Quiet.

You pause to kick off your shoes, wiping at your face and blinking hard at the still, empty apartment.

Jake didn’t tell you he was going out. Then again, he hasn’t really told you anything lately—not since he told you he’s in love with you.

But you know he hasn’t been going out. You know he hasn’t seen anyone else since then. Hasn’t really spoken to anyone, either. Even Javy asked if you knew what was going on with him. You’d just shrugged and mumbled something about him avoiding you too.

Your throat tightens as you step farther in.

“Jake?” you call softly, your voice wobbly—uncertain.

There’s no response.

With a soft sigh, you shed your jacket and lay it on the kitchen bench. Then you pad quietly toward the hall. At the very end, beneath Jake’s bedroom door, is a faint sliver of light. He’s home.

You move as quietly as you can, tears still slipping down your cheeks, hands trembling at your sides. It doesn’t take long to reach his door—but you don’t knock. Instead, you let your forehead rest against the wood with a soft thud.

“Jake,” you whisper, barely audible.

If he’s watching something or has his headphones in, he wouldn’t hear you.

You clear your throat, lift your head and—thunk—let it fall again.

“Jake,” you say, a little louder.

There’s a shuffle. Then silence. A pause. Two distinct footsteps and—

The door yanks open and you go with it, falling forward.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake breathes, arms wrapping around you as you crash into his chest.

“Nope,” you murmur, sniffling. “Just me.”

He exhales—something like a half-laugh, half-sigh—as he steadies you in his arms. You don’t even try to hold yourself up—just sink into him, your cheek pressed to the firm warmth of his chest, his heartbeat thrumming hard beneath your ear.

“Are—are you okay?” he asks, voice tight with concern. “Did something happen?”

You draw a deep, shaky breath and slowly begin to take your weight back, bracing one hand on his shoulder as you pull upright.

“I—I just—” Your voice breaks as more tears roll down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, his voice low as he takes your hand, his expression softening. “It’s okay. I’m here. Whatever it is—we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

He draws you further into the room, nudging the door closed behind you. Then he sits on the edge of the bed with a heavy breath and tugs gently on your hand to guide you down beside him.

But you don’t move. You can’t. Not yet.

It’s ridiculous, but... you don’t want your first time on Jake’s bed to be like this. Sobbing. Falling apart. If you’re ever in this bed, you want it to be because he put you there—and because you didn’t want to leave. Crying? Maybe… but from overstimulation, not emotional collapse.

“What happened?” he asks again, more carefully this time. “Did—did Justin—?”

“No,” you say quickly.

You step back just enough to face him, standing in front of where he sits at the foot of the bed. Then you tip your head back, trying to breathe, trying to collect yourself. You sniffle. Wipe your cheeks. Blink a few times. And finally, finally, you meet his eyes again.

“I—um, I think I broke up with him,” you say quietly. “If there was even anything to break up. Honestly, we’d barely been going out.”

Jake nods slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Right. So... he didn’t take it well?”

You let out a soft, watery laugh—half-snort, thanks to your stuffed-up nose. “No idea. I left before he could say anything.”

“Oh.” Jake frowns. “Then why—”

“You know,” you interrupt, eyes drifting around his room, “I don’t think I’ve been in here more than once.”

His brow lifts. “Really?”

“Yep. When we first moved in. But it’s different now. It’s very... you.”

Jake huffs a quiet breath that might be a laugh. “Is that a good thing?”

You nod, your gaze snagging on the worn, pale cowboy hat hooked over the bedpost. “Yeah. I like it.”

Silence stretches between you. Heavy and charged. This is the longest you’ve been in the same room in two weeks— and the air between you is thick with everything left unsaid.

Finally, Jake clears his throat. “So... are you okay?”

You meet his eyes. “I think so.”

He nods once. “Good. With all the crying, I thought—”

“I love you,” you blurt.

His entire body stills. The words hang in the space between you like something fragile and flammable. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

You swallow hard. “I—I’m in love with you. That’s what I meant.”

He just stares. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, stunned into silence. You can practically see the static behind his eyes.

You wait—heart in your throat, lungs burning. You can see it in his face. You know he loves you too. You just hope you’re not too late. That you haven’t wrecked this—haven’t ruined what it was, or what it could’ve been.

Finally, he blinks and drags in a breath. “You... you’re in love with me?”

You nod. “Yeah. With you.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, like the words won’t come. Like his brain can’t catch up.

You let out another shaky laugh, wiping fresh tears from your cheeks. “Yeah. That’s why I was crying.”

His voice is hoarse. “Because... of me?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” you say quickly. “I’m just... overwhelmed. I mean, you try realising you’re in love with your roommate—”

“I did,” he cuts in, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t let me finish.”

He doesn’t argue.

“You try realising you’re in love with your roommate—who also happens to be a certified man whore with a dating history that reads like an anthology series. Every damn episode worse than the last.”

Jake presses his lips together, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Man whore?” he echoes, raising a brow.

You give him a flat look. “Don’t even try to defend yourself. I’ve witnessed the carnage firsthand.” Then your breath hitches. “Why do you think I’m so scared?”

His smile fades. “Scared?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice cracking as another tear slips free.

He stands up and steps forward without hesitation, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you tight against him. Your head finds its place beneath his chin, your cheek warm against his chest, the fabric of his shirt growing damp with tears.

“I swear to God, Jake Seresin,” you mumble into him, “if you break my heart, I’ll rip yours out and feed it to piranhas.”

His laugh vibrates through his chest. “Noted.” Then his voice softens, dropping to a whisper. “I’m not going to break your heart.”

Your chest tightens, overwhelmed by something fierce and fragile all at once. Love rises slowly, heavy and aching, filling every corner of you—for this man, this maddening, breathtaking man who has become everything you never expected.

You stay wrapped in him, suspended in that quiet moment of calm and certainty, until finally Jake pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. One hand finds yours, the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward his with gentle intent.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quiet, his eyes impossibly soft.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead—so careful, so reverent it nearly undoes you all over again.

When he pulls back, he lingers just close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His hand still cradles your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek like you might vanish if he stops touching you.

“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with restraint. “Whatever you want.”

But you can see it in his eyes—that barely-contained hunger. The way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips, the tension strumming between your bodies like a live wire.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

You tilt your head, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. He doesn’t even have time to react before you place your hands on his chest and give him a gentle push. He stumbles back a step, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he drops onto it with a startled huff.

“I want to save a horse,” you say.

He blinks up at you, confused. “What?”

You reach for the cowboy hat perched on his bedpost, fingers curling around the worn brim. Then, with deliberate slowness, you step between his knees and place the hat on his head, tilting it just right.

“Save a horse,” you repeat, your voice dropping as you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Ride a cowboy.”

You barely finish the sentence before Jake grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap.

Your knees hit the mattress on either side of his thighs. The cowboy hat slips slightly askew on his head, but you grab the brim and straighten it with a grin, settling in with your hips flush against his.

“Jesus,” he breathes, eyes dragging slowly down your face, your neck, the curve of your chest like he’s cataloguing every inch for later. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You lean in close, lips brushing his. “You wish.”

And then you kiss him.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s all tongue and teeth and breathless sounds caught between gasps. You grind down without shame, feeling the thick press of him beneath you, hard and eager and very much not trying to play it cool. One of his hands slides under your shirt—fingertips rough and greedy—while the other fists in your hair, holding you there like he can’t risk you pulling away.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, bucking up beneath you, chasing the friction like a man possessed. “You keep that up, and I’m gonna—”

“What?” you pant, rolling your hips again, slower this time. “Lose that legendary control of yours?”

His breath stutters. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

He’s gasping now, eyes dark, lips swollen from kissing, and you can feel the desperation clawing at him. Every muscle in his body is tense beneath yours, like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

You rock your hips again, deliberately filthy, and his head falls back with a curse.

“Baby,” he growls, voice wrecked, “we’re gonna open a whole goddamn rescue ranch with the amount of horses you’re about to save.”

You let out a breathless, wicked laugh and drag your mouth along his jaw, down his throat. “Then I guess we’d better start tonight.”

And if the next hour alone is anything to go by, this ranch is going to need a whole lot of fencing.

END.

[creativeashproductions]

You apologize for a 13k fic when we should be profusely thanking you for it 🥹🥰

Orange Juice Pairing - Tyler Owens x Female!Reader Summary - When it's time to interview a group of storm chasers for your new book, you get sent back to your hometown. You never would have guessed one of the people you'd be interviewing would be your ex boyfriend. And you might still be a little in love with him. Word Count - 13k my god I'm sorry Playlist Warnings - 18+ ONLY. Tyler Smut. Language

Everything looked the same, but somehow different. 

You hadn’t stepped foot in this town in ten years, and you were nervous as hell to be here now. This town held a lot of memories and people that you hadn’t visited in a long time. If your agent had told you where you had been going before putting you on the plane, you probably would have asked if there was somewhere else, some other storm chaser group that wasn’t based in Arkansas you could interview. She believed that she was doing a nice thing, surprising you with a trip to your hometown. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it may be your hometown, but it also was home to your worst memory. 

A sigh left your lips as you pulled up to a familiar gas station, and pushing the memories out of your mind, you put the car in park. 

The Tornado Wranglers. That was the group of chasers you would be talking to. Your agent had insisted that they were the best of the best. Apparently they had a very large YouTube following, and their leader was, “charismatic and oozed charm”, according to your agent. He was also the hottest cowboy she’d ever seen. 

Those words brought a faint smile to your face, and you pulled out your phone to text her. 

Landed, and am currently waiting at the gas station. 

A few moments later, a response came through. Any sign of hot cowboys yet? 

You let out a laugh. Not yet, but I’ll keep you informed. 

Your fingers settled on the door handle. There was no reason to put this off anymore. You were here, and you were going to have to face what was out there, for better or worse. You opened the door and climbed out of your car. 

It smelled the same. The gas station had been updated to be more modern, but the faint scent of gasoline and rice from the farms remained. Walking inside, you found little had changed. There was an updated register, a few more products offered, but that was about it. When your eyes caught sight of your favorite candy, a grin spread across your face, and you found yourself reaching for them, even though you hadn’t had them in years. 

You didn’t recognize the cashier, which you were grateful for. A part of you had almost expected everyone you knew to pop out of nowhere as soon as your feet touched the ground. Now you realized how ridiculous that was. In fact, you might go this whole trip without setting eyes on a single person from before. Thanking the cashier, you made your way back outside right on time to see a large red truck turning in followed by a camper that was blaring a Tanner Adell song. You couldn’t see the driver of the truck because of the cowboy hat and sunglasses that partially obscured his face, but the guy in the passenger seat recognized you at once. “Hey! That’s her!” You could hear him say it since his window was open. 

The guy pulled to a stop, and the one in the passenger seat ran around the front of the car. His hair was dark and shoulder length, but covered with a baseball cap, and the bottom half of his face supported some facial hair. He was dressed much like you expected a tornado chaser to dress, shirt and shorts in different shades of dark green with a bandana around his neck. “Hey, I’m Boone.” He said, holding out his hand for you. “I gotta say, I’m a big fan.” He said the last part in an almost whisper, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him. 

Which, considering you wrote romance books, he probably didn’t. Not the first man to say something similar to you, you nodded with a sincere smile, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You guys are the Tornado Wranglers I’m assuming?” 

“Yeah, that’s Dexter and Dani.” He said pointing to two people that were exiting the camper behind them. “There’s Lily.” He said, pointing to a girl getting out of another car that you hadn’t even noticed. “And this is our fearless leader, Tyler.” 

At that moment, the world around you slowed down. In fact, you were pretty sure all the air was sucked out of your lungs. It couldn’t be him. Out of every person in the world you could be working with, it couldn’t be the one . . . But he took off his cowboy hat, and even though it had been ten years, he was unmistakable. You would know that face anywhere, after all, you saw it all the time in your dreams. 

For a moment, you thought he might not recognize you. It had been ten years, you’d both changed in that time, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he knew exactly who you were. He said your name, pure disbelief in his tone as he took a step forward. 

You nodded, unsure of how to respond. The two of you hadn’t left on the best of terms, but there were so many years before that. So many beautiful memories that you’d never be able to forget. Half of you wanted to run and hide, the other half (okay maybe more like three fourths) wanted to run into his arms. How could you do that though when you were the one who left? 

Tyler didn’t hesitate though. You watched as a slow grin formed on his face that turned into a bright smile, a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, and the next moment he was hurrying towards you. Within seconds you were wrapped up in a hug so tight your feet weren’t even on the ground anymore. 

God it felt good. You slid your arms around his neck, hugging him back just as tight, and let out a little laugh as he spun you around. Your eyes closed automatically, and you realized at that moment while you may have written about the way Tyler made you feel, it was nothing compared to the actual emotions. You remembered how his arms always felt like home, and it was no different now. They must have some sort of magic, because no matter how long it had been, they brought your mindset right back to the teenager who was crazy in love with her boyfriend. 

After what was probably too long, Tyler put you back on the ground, slowly and a little too intimately for the strangers his team thought you were. In fact, he didn’t even fully let go of you, keeping his hands on your hips. You found yourself unable to let go of him too though, your hands resting on his forearms as he stared at you in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You said, squeezing his arms. “You’re a storm chaser?” It made perfect sense when you thought about it. Tyler had always had such a good instinct for weather. You couldn’t count the amount of times during school when he told you football games were going to get canceled because it was going to storm. He was never wrong. You just never expected him to quit bull riding. 

“Yeah, got a meteorology degree from U of A and everything.” Tyler said, and your breath caught in your throat. Not just because his thumbs had started stroking your hips, but because of his words too. 

Tyler had done it. He had done what you had always known he was beyond capable of doing. The shy smile on his face, the love, care, and pride you still, and always would have for him rushed to the surface. Overwhelmed with emotions from the past, you felt tears fill up your eyes as you looked at him. “I’m so proud of you, Ty.” You told him, and you meant every word. 

There was no other way to describe it. He was beaming, and god you had forgotten how beautiful that smile was. It was like the sun, almost too bright to look at. 

“I get the feeling you two know each other?” 

You had forgotten that little aspect of being with Tyler. How everything else would disappear the moment he looked into your eyes. You took a step back from him, letting go of his arms even though every part of your body wanted you to keep touching him. His hands lingered on you for a moment, but then he let go as well. “I guess you could say that.” Tyler said, “this is the girl that broke my heart ten years ago.” 

“Wait,” one of the girls, you were pretty sure it was Lily, stepped forward. “I thought that girl’s name was-”

They knew your name. Tyler had talked about you enough that they knew who you were. “That is my name. My writing name is a pseudonym.” You admitted. Heat rushed to your skin, but there was no malice in Tyler’s voice or face. He was just looking at you with a fond smile, as if lost in the same memories you found swirling around in your mind. 

“So, you’re a big time writer now, huh? You always did tell the best stories.” Tyler said. 

“Man, you should read them. In fact, now that I think about it, one of the main guys kinda reminds me of-” Boone started to say, but you cut him off. 

There was no way you were ready for that conversation. “So, um, where did you guys want to talk?” You spoke up, trying to change the subject as subtly as you could. 

The look Tyler gave you said he saw right through your bullshit, but he didn’t comment on it, just grinned mischievously at you. “How about Frankie’s?” 

Of course he would suggest Frankie’s. It was the bar that the two of you used to go to all the time after rodeos. There were a lot of memories of playing pool, laughing with friends and dancing to whatever band was playing there. While you weren’t sure you were ready for all those memories to hit again, the draw of going back there with Tyler was too much. “Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you guys- ”

“No need for that. You can ride with me.” Tyler said, patting the large red truck. 

Being in an enclosed space with your ex boyfriend definitely didn’t seem like a good idea. “Oh, that’s not-”

“It’s really cool. You’ll want to take a peek. He customized it all himself and everything. This baby can drive straight into a tornado.” Boone said while Tyler continued to grin at you. 

“Research is what you’re here for right?” Tyler asked you. 

Yes. That was a good reminder for yourself. You were here to learn about the essentials of storm chasing for your next book, not to spend all your time thinking about how good Tyler looked after ten years. “Right,” you agreed, and then watched as Tyler walked all the way over to the passenger seat and held it open for you. 

“Well, in that case, right this way ma’am.” 

————————

To your slight surprise, Tyler kept everything professional in the truck. He showed you all the features, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it all. It was impressive, not only what he had thought of, but had attached himself. “Is this normal? I mean do a lot of storm chasers have vehicles they’ve rigged up?” 

“Nothing like this.” He said with pride in his voice as he grinned over at you. “I spent years putting this thing together.” 

“When you do something, you always go big.” You teased, smirking at him. “Remember that time in high school when we just wanted to fill the principal's office with ducks, and instead you said we should fill the whole school?” 

Tyler scoffed. “Of course I do. I got a month of detention for that because Belinda ratted me out.” 

“You did stand her up for a date.” You reminded him. 

“Yeah well,” Tyler glanced over at you again. “You needed me.” 

Your cheeks heated as the memories of that night flooded your mind. It hadn’t been long after your Dad had passed. You had gotten stupid drunk at a party that he hadn’t wanted to go to. You had been walking home, stumbling home really, when a familiar truck pulled up beside you. It turned out that Tyler had been waiting nearby for at least an hour after feeling like something was off. 

He held you in his arms in that truck for hours while you cried, letting out emotions you’d been holding back for months. Then he took you home and snuck into your bedroom to hold you some more. The next morning you told him you didn’t want to be just friends anymore. He told you he hadn’t wanted to be just friends for a long time. 

The two of you were inseparable from that moment until the day you left. Almost as if he could sense where your mind was, a palpable tension filled the truck. 

You weren’t ready to talk about it though. 

Thankfully you were saved from any further discussion as your phone went off with a text. It was from your agent, checking in again. 

“Boyfriend?” Tyler asked. 

You shot him a look, trying to bite back a smile. “That’s not very subtle of you.” 

He sent you a look right back. “Wasn’t trying to be.” 

“Agent.” You answered, choosing to ignore his response. “Who I now have to awkwardly tell that the ‘hottest cowboy she’s ever seen’ is actually my ex-boyfriend.” 

“So you really had no idea?” Tyler asked. 

You shook your head. “Not a clue. I didn’t even know where I was going until I got to the airport and she sent my travel information.” 

“Gotta say . . . I’m surprised. I never thought you’d step foot in the town again.” He said, pulling into the small parking lot. 

Glancing up at the building, you bit your bottom lip. “I wasn’t sure I would either.” 

Frankie’s was exactly what you would picture when you hear the words, “small town bar”, but as soon as you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity. It was big for a small town bar, featuring bars on both sides of the room, plenty of tables, as well as a couple of pool tables, and a stage with a small dancing space in front of it. Most of the furniture was wooden and looking a little rough, but they kept the lighting dim enough that it wasn’t very noticeable. There weren’t a whole lot of people, but there was no band playing, and it was a weekday night. It put you a little more at ease. 

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” You said, looking around. 

Tyler shook his head in agreement. “That’s why I love it so much. Feel like I’m right back into my early twenties when I walk back in here.” 

“That was a long time ago for you.” You teased. 

He clutched his chest, scrunching his eyes at you and giving you a wounded look, but there was a playful edge to it. “Ouch. So you do still have some bite to you.” 

You smirked at him. “You bring it out in me.” 

Tyler’s frown turned to a grin as he placed his hand on the small of your back, sending chills down your spine. “Let’s grab a booth for everybody.” 

The next several hours consisted of you asking the Tornado Wranglers crew every question you wrote down as well as thought of. They not only answered honestly, but never talked down to you like you were stupid for not knowing something either. You loved the relationship that they clearly had with each other. They treated each other like family, with their own strengths and weaknesses that the other members of the team either supported or built upon. You knew immediately it was something you were going to want to include in your book. Not only that, but they were hilarious, and since they knew who you were, they seemed to be ribbing Tyler extra hard. 

“All right, you know damn well that was an accident.” Tyler said, pointing a finger at Dexter who was laughing hysterically along with the rest of the table. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like an accident to me Tyler.” You said, raising your eyebrows at the man sitting next to you. 

Tyler narrowed his eyes at you and bumped your knee with his under the table. “Now don’t you start.” 

“Hey, don’t be rude to our guest.” Dani said. 

“Too late for that. He hasn’t even gotten her a drink yet.” Lily spoke up, shaking her head at him in disappointment. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Tyler shook his head. “No, they’re right.” He started sliding out of the booth. His hand reached up and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got you.” 

“I notice he didn’t ask you what you wanted to drink.” Dexter said with a little grin after Tyler made his way to the bar. 

You bit your bottom lip. You hoped he remembered. “We’ve known each other a long time.” 

“Okay, now that he’s gone.” Boone leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “One Last Rodeo. Theo. He’s based on Tyler isn’t he?” 

Heat rushed to your face. So Boone definitely had read your books. Looking back on it, it was pretty obvious that your first book had been based on Tyler. You were heartbroken, and trying to find a way to get it out on the page. The book was your way of coping with your breakup and how you wished it would have ended instead of the way that it did. By the time someone wanted to actually publish it, you realized how obvious the similarities were, and it was one of the reasons you wanted to write under a fake name. Since Boone had read your book, and now knew that Tyler was your ex . . . It couldn’t have been hard to put together. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it outloud. “A writer never tells her secrets.” You said. 

They were all grinning at you though. “Oh, look how flushed her face is.” Dani said. 

“It’s definitely about him.” Lily said. 

You opened your mouth to deny it, even though it seemed pointless, but before you could you were interrupted. “Here you go,” he said, sliding back into the booth and putting a glass filled with an orange drink in front of you. 

“What is that?” Boone asked, “some kind of tropical-”

“Orange juice.” You answered, smiling over at Tyler. “You did remember.” 

Tyler gave you a look of disbelief, like he was insulted. “Of course I did.” When he saw the confused looks of his friends he explained, “she doesn’t drink.” 

“Twelve years sober.” You said. “Not something I’m against anyone else doing, it’s just not for me.” Tyler slung his arm over the back side of the booth closest to you, and you had to fight the immediate urge to lean back into his embrace. The rest of the team was smirking at you, and you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. “So I’ve just got one more question for you guys.” You said trying to change the subject. 

“Fire away.” Dani said. 

“Why do you guys do it?” That was what you really wanted to know. “I grew up here. I know how dangerous, how scary these things can be. Why do you guys willingly risk your life for something that seems to have no real reward?” 

There was silence around the table for a moment, and you made sure to avoid Tyler’s face. When you had written these questions, you had no clue he was one of the ones you’d be asking, and this question hit a little too close to the reason for your breakup. You didn’t think you could look at him if he answered. 

“We like to help.” Lily said. “That’s a factor. We sell these shirts, and we use the money to get people stuff like food and water.” 

“Then there’s just the beauty of it. Yes, it’s dangerous and destructive, but there’s also something incredible about it as well. There’s so many factors to tornados we don’t understand. Seeing them come together in person is . . . Indescribable.” Dexter added, while they all nodded their heads in agreement. 

“There’s the adrenaline too.” Boone spoke up with a grin. “I’ve never felt more alive than when we’re chasing.” 

Your body tensed at his words, memories of your last argument with Tyler trying to invade your mind. Once again, you felt sure he could sense what you were thinking as you felt his gaze on the side of your face. 

“It’s hard to put into words without actually seeing it.” Tyler said. “You should come on a chase.” 

That made you look at him, your eyes wide in shock that he would even suggest it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why not?” Tyler leaned towards you. “Scared?” He asked with a smirk. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly. 

“Ah, you’d be perfectly safe with Tyler. He’s got a knack for these things.” Boone said, and you looked over at him to find him grinning at the two of you. “You’d barely be in any danger at all.” 

You didn’t doubt that, but heading straight into something that could be so destructive had never been your thing. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten on a horse until Tyler talked you into it. “Still, any danger is too much danger for me.” 

Tyler shrugged. “The offer is there if you change your mind.” Tyler said, and you knew him well enough to see the flash of disappointment on his face. 

Weirdly, you felt a little disappointed in yourself too. 

————————

For the past hour, you’d been pacing around your motel room. Tyler had driven you back to your car, then followed you to the motel that funnily enough, him and the rest of the Wranglers were staying at as well. It was the only motel in your hometown, but knowing that Tyler was a few doors down from you made you anxious. 

God, seeing him again had been your worst nightmare and best daydream all rolled into one. It was so easy to think that after ten years you were over someone. Then you see them again, and everything comes flooding back. All the beautiful memories and all the mistakes you wish you could take back, and there were a lot of mistakes you wished you could take back with Tyler. You’d never loved anyone the way you loved him, and you didn’t think you ever would. Seeing him again had reminded you of that. 

Letting out a sad sigh, you sat down on your bed. Then there was Tyler’s invitation and disappointment. You hated disappointing him almost as much as you hated disappointing yourself. It had taken several years of therapy and hard work to not be so scared of ending up with the same fate as your father. You had grown though. You had learned about yourself and the things that caused those reactions. While getting close to a tornado was definitely dangerous, you knew that Tyler would take care of you. You also knew that you didn’t want to miss out on any more experiences in your life because you were afraid. 

You stood up, not allowing yourself another moment to try and talk yourself out of it, and left your room, knocking at the one three doors down. 

Tyler answered, clad in his white t-shirt and jeans, and smiled when he realized it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” 

Good lord was there ever a moment when this man didn’t look incredible? You swallowed, then nodded. “I changed my mind.” 

He leaned against the doorway, eyebrows raised in confusion. “About what?” 

You took a deep breath. “I wanna go on a chase.”

Tyler beamed. 

————————

It took three days for a storm to come through that Tyler felt good about. They had done some chasing in that time, but Tyler hadn’t brought you along because he said they hadn’t been the “right one”. The wait made you anxious, but you trusted Tyler’s instincts, and every night they were back at the motel ready to tell you about their day. You thought that they might eventually get bored of all your questions, but they were not only great, but amazing storytellers as well. You could see why their YouTube channel was so popular. 

Not that you spent a whole day watching it while they were gone or anything. 

Finally though, the day arrived and you found yourself standing outside by Tyler’s truck waiting for the team to join you, your heart pumping a little faster than normal. “Morning!” A voice called, pulling your attention away from inspecting Tyler’s truck again, and you saw the man in question heading towards you with a paper sack in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “Haven’t talked yourself out of this yet?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. I’m doing this.” You smiled as Tyler handed you the coffee and bag. “Did you seriously get-?”

“Your breakfast sandwich and coffee? Yes, you need fuel for the road.” Tyler used his now free hands to open the door for you. “Hop on in, and let’s get going.” 

“Wait,” you said, glancing around. “Is everyone else meeting us there?” 

Tyler leaned against the door, and you watched as he looked at the sky behind you, then turned his gaze back to you. “Nah, I gave them the day off. I didn’t want you to have to deal with pressure from them if we get there and you decide not to do this.” 

You bit your lip. He was always so thoughtful. Back when he knew you, he would have had to drag you to this truck kicking and screaming, which he never would, and the fact that he wanted to save you some embarrassment in case you decided not to do this was just like him. Unable to help yourself, you reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” You said sincerely. 

“Well,” you inhaled sharply as Tyler took a little step closer to you. “I’ve got to admit, getting you alone for the day also played a factor.” 

Your eyes widened and a shy smile formed on your face even while your mind was spinning. Over the past few days there had been brief moments where you thought Tyler might have been flirting with you, but you talked yourself out of it. Now though . . . Was there actually a chance this man still wanted you? He couldn’t. Not after how you had treated him. It didn’t make sense. “You might end up regretting that, you know?” You told him. 

Tyler reached up, and your whole body froze as he brushed some hair behind your ear. “I’ve never regretted a moment I’ve been with you.” 

His response took the breath from your lungs. “Ty . . .” You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating so fast it hurt. How could he possibly not regret that night? The night that you broke his heart? 

“I’ve missed you calling me that, you know?” He smiled at you, and then took a step back. “Come on, let’s get going.” 

Once again, you wanted to say something, but what? Nothing sounded right in your mind. So instead you hopped up in the truck and watched as he closed the door behind you. 

————————

“Can I be honest?” You asked him several hours later. 

“I didn’t realize you ever weren’t.” Tyler joked, sending you a smirk. 

You swatted at him playfully. “I didn’t expect all the waiting. What happens if nothing comes?” 

“Oh, something’s gonna happen.” He insisted, looking at some clouds in the distance. “Don’t you have any faith in me?” 

While he was kidding, you didn’t stop the serious words that slipped past your lips. “You know I have all the faith in the world in you.” 

Ty’s smile turned from something joking to something genuine. “Even after all these years?” 

You smiled at him. “It never stopped. I always knew you were destined for great things.” You admitted, and it was the truth. In fact, you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. 

“Just not riding on the back of a bull.” He replied, and though he winked at you, the mention of one of the reasons from your breakup filled the air with tension. 

Then the question that you had been dying to ask since you first saw him burst from your lips. “Why did you quit?” 

Tyler looked at you then, and you knew that look well. He was reading your expression, your eyes, your body language. He’d always been able to tell what you were thinking simply by looking at you, and this time was no different. “It wasn’t because of you.” He said, reaching over to place his hand on top of yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean, you were part of the reason, but it was more about me realizing you were right, and I could do more with my life.” 

He knew you had been carrying that guilt of wondering if you were the reason he quit something that he had loved so much. He told you that you weren’t, but you still frowned, looking out at the darkening sky miles away. “I wish I’d said it differently.” 

There was silence for a moment as you two watched the storm, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more reflective, and your thoughts were only confirmed when he spoke up. “Do you ever wonder where we’d be now? If you’d stayed?” 

If only he knew . . . “I guess that depends.” You bumped your shoulder against his. “Would you have proposed by now?” You teased, but a part of you wanted to know the answer. 

Tyler grinned at you, an adoring look on his face. “Oh definitely.” 

A flush heated up your face as a pleased smile fell on your lips. “Then I guess we’d be married and driving each other crazy.” 

“Not to mention being driven crazy by the kids.” Tyler added. 

You let out a laugh. “After ten years, you still want three kids?” 

“Three is a good number.” He defended. 

You rolled your eyes. “You know I have this friend now. She just had her fourth. Going over to her house almost makes me not want any at all.” 

“That’s because she has four. Three, perfect number.” Tyler said, holding up three fingers. “Four?” He added a finger. “Now that’s just asking for trouble.” 

“Especially if they were your kids.” You added, grinning over at him. 

“Ah, we could handle them.” Tyler said with a wink in your direction. 

A vision formed in your mind of what he was describing. Three kids, all of varying ages, but in your mind it was two boys and one girl. The boys would be almost an exact copy of Tyler, blonde hair and blue-green eyes, dimples and charming smiles. Troublemakers, but also sweethearts who cared deeply and loved life to the fullest. Then the little girl. She definitely had a majority of your features but with Tyler’s smile. She would have Tyler so wrapped around her finger it would almost be embarrassing. Then there’d be Tyler and you, watching all the craziness unfold from your back porch with a glass of sweet tea in your hands. You were happy. You were loved, and you were home. 

At that moment, you realized you never wanted anything so badly in your life. You wanted it so badly your chest literally ached with it. Looking over at Tyler made it hurt worse. You thought being away from him would make the love you had fade, but it turned out, the opposite had occurred. In fact, seeing him watch the sky with a content smile and talking about what could have been made you realize you loved him more now. You had loved him in high school, you’d loved him in his early twenties, but this was different. You were different and so was he. 

The question was . . . Would he take you back if you tried? You knew you didn’t deserve it. You were the reason the two of you broke up. If you were in his shoes, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. Tyler had always been a better person than you though. 

Was it worth a shot trying? 

“Hey,” Tyler pulled you out of your thoughts, lifting your hand and pointing it to something in the distance. “Do you see those clouds?” 

You looked out to where he was pointing your hand and frowned. Those definitely looked dark, and they were . . . “Are those spinning?” 

“That’s the updraft, and it’s cycling.” He told you. 

“And that means . . .”

“That means-” Tyler stood up, put his baseball cap back on his head, and held out his hand to help you off the bed of his truck. “We’ve got a winner.” 

————————

You were going to throw up. At least it felt like you were. Not five minutes after you guys reached the storm did a tornado touchdown. Tyler said it was rated for an EF1, so it would be safe to drive into. Well, as safe as driving into a tornado could be. As fast as your heart was pounding, and as sick as you felt you might be, you leaned forward to get a better look out the window. You couldn’t deny the beauty in it. “I’ve never seen something so amazing and scary at the same time.” You admitted. 

“It’s incredible isn’t it?” 

As nervous as you were, the look on Tyler’s face made you smile. God you hadn’t seen him this excited since he had been on the back of a bull. “It is. Especially when it doesn’t look like it’s going to kill me.” 

Tyler laughed, and he pulled to a stop. “Nah, this is just an EF 1. This and the truck are going to keep you completely safe.” Tyler said, reaching to tug at the harness he had secured so tightly to your body that you felt like you couldn’t take a deep breath. 

As you watched the tornado race forward, you felt your heart rate start to kick back up and took a deep breath. “And you too right?” You asked, biting your bottom lip. 

He parked the truck and faced you, a rare serious expression crossing his face. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” 

At that moment, you realized you did. Tyler would never willingly put you in danger. He cared about you too much. If he said it was safe, it was. “I do.” You agreed, taking a deep breath, well, as much as you could in this harness. “Let’s do this.” 

The grin came back to his face full force as he started pressing buttons on his truck, anchoring it down into the ground as the tornado got closer and closer. “You’re gonna love this.” 

”Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Even though you knew you were safe, there was nothing quite like a tornado heading straight towards you while you’re stuck in place. “Tyler . . . This is crazy.” 

It was getting closer and closer. Only yards away, and your heart was pounding harder and harder in your chest. You didn’t even think. Your hand reached for his, gripping it tightly as the tornado hit the truck. 

Tyler gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “look up.” He called over the wind, and you did as he asked, leaning towards your side of the car to see out the window. 

It was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen. You could see all the way up the funnel to the clouds above as the vortex passed over you. You’d never seen anything like it in your life, and a laugh of disbelief left your lips as you watched it pass over you. When it was done you looked over at Tyler, shock all over your face. “Was that real? Did that actually just happen? Did I just see inside a damn tornado?!” 

Letting out a chuckle at your questions, Tyler nodded. “You sure as hell did.” 

You let out another laugh yourself and started unbuckling all of your straps. You needed one last look to convince yourself that you had done it. Once you were free, you hopped out of the truck, running around the back to watch it keep going through the field behind you. You heard the truck door close again, but you didn’t turn around, still mesmerized, until you felt Tyler’s hand on your shoulder. 

“So, how do you feel?” He asked. 

His question was loaded for so many reasons. Years ago, he never would have gotten you close enough to even see a tornado, much less let it speed over you. You were so proud of yourself for doing this, but also sad. How many other life experiences had you missed because of how your father’s life choices had traumatized you? There was no good way to answer his question, so you just did what you wanted to. You jumped up, latching your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. 

Of course he caught you easily, laughing as he spun you around and held you close. One of his hands rested on your back, while the other cradled your head against his shoulder. After a moment, he let out a content sigh. “I’m so proud of you.” 

You clutched tighter to him. He had no idea how much those words meant coming from him. Tyler had seen you at your absolute worst, when you had no one but him. You had clung to him then, leaning on him more than was healthy until you knew that you couldn’t anymore. It made you want to cry, knowing how far you had come and that Tyler could see it. You pulled back to look at him so he could see your watery smile too. “I’m proud of myself.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults as he looked at you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you felt his arm muscles tense against your back. There was tension in the air, no doubt about it, and you found your eyes drawn to those familiar soft lips. You wanted to kiss him. A part of you wondered if it would be the same, or even better because you both were older. You weren’t sure, but either way, you wanted to find out. When you saw his eyes glance at your lips too, you knew he was thinking the same thing. Unable to help yourself, you let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling yourself the slightest bit closer to him until your noses were brushing. 

Then his phone rang. 

Whatever spell the two of you had been under broke. Tyler slowly let you down to the ground, but reached for your hand, tangling your fingers with his and keeping you close. “Hey, Boone, what’s up?” 

You glanced down at your hands with a soft smile. Tyler’s hands were big and calloused from work and bulls, but they felt nice. You brushed your thumb on the outside of his palm, and he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Yeah, we got one. She handled it like a pro.” Tyler told him, grinning over at you. There was a bit of silence for a moment as the phone conversation continued. “Let me ask her, and I’ll let you know? All right, sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and tugged you a little closer again. “Feel like celebrating seeing inside your first tornado?” Tyler asked. 

————————

Three hours later you found yourself in new clothes, freshly showered, line dancing between Dani and Boone. You were almost crying from laughing so hard, and your face hurt from smiling so much. It blew your mind that two weeks ago you were sitting in your apartment in South Carolina feeling alone and stuck with writer's block. Now you were back in your hometown, having a blast, writing faster than you had in years, and desperate to get back together with the man who was watching you from the booth, an adorable smile on his face. Feeling a little bold after your almost kiss, you sent him a wink as Boone spun you around, causing his smile to widen. 

“You guys are disgustingly cute.” Dani said as the song slowed down and the three of you started to exit the floor. 

Heat rushed to your face, and you found yourself asking the question you’d been wanting to ask for days. “Why have you guys been so nice to me anyway? Tyler’s your best friend, and I’m his ex. I broke his heart, but you’ve been nothing but kind to me since the start.” 

Boone and Dani exchanged a look. “Yeah, you’re right. If it had been another one of Tyler’s exes we probably would hate you.” Boone said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“But you were the one who got away for Tyler, and he’s never said anything but great things about you. Plus,” Dani reached out and patted your shoulder. “It's kinda obvious the two of you are still in love with each other.” 

The words hit you like a truck, and then you felt stupid for not realizing it before. You looked at the man sitting at the booth again. This time he was talking to Dexter, his expression animated, and his hands moving wildly with his words. Of course you still loved him. You never stopped. You buried it, hid from it so you could try to better yourself. When you left, you knew you weren’t good enough for him, you probably still weren’t, but now you knew you could love him like you were supposed to. If he was open to it. Boone and Dani made it seem like he was. He had given you signs that he was at least interested . . . The only question was how could you show him that you wanted it too? 

An idea hit, and a small smile formed on your face. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute okay?” You said to their confused faces and headed to the DJ stand. You gave him twenty bucks, which he gladly took, and promised your song would be next. By the time you’d made it back to the booth where everyone was seated, Never Leave by Bailey Zimmerman was playing. 

You approached Tyler, who was looking at you curiously as you held your hand out to him. “Dance with me?” You said, biting your bottom lip. 

A surprised, but happy smile formed on his face. “Yes ma’am.” 

It was not your and Tyler’s first dance. Probably wasn’t even your hundredth, and dancing with him was as effortless as remembering how to ride a bike. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other took yours. You placed your hand on his bicep, giving his arm a squeeze. You didn’t want to say anything. The lyrics of the song could do all the talking for you. Tyler led you around the floor with ease, and as the song went on, you could see the moment the words started to sink in. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours,  and he whispered your name so reverently it made you close your eyes.

“Just listen,” you said softly, tightening your grip on his hand, letting the song say the words you wanted to. Tyler’s arm pulled you even closer until it was almost hard to dance, your bodies pressed against each other. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care anymore. You were laying it all out there now. 

As the song ended, you felt Tyler’s lips against your forehead, soft and lingering. Warmth exploded throughout your body, and you pulled back to look up at him. 

“Come back to the hotel with me?” You asked, your thumb caressing his arm, almost pleading with your voice. 

Tyler’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, and you immediately leaned into his touch, your whole body craving it. “Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded. There was nothing you were more sure about right now.

He took a step back from you, grabbing your hand and tugging you back to the booth where everybody else was sitting with knowing eyes. He told them that the two of you were leaving. You tried to ignore them, but you couldn’t help but grin when you saw them giving you a thumbs up or silently cheering as Tyler had his back turned. 

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was more filled with tension, and the two of you kept glancing at each other and smiling. He never let go of your hand either until he parked at the motel and came around to open your door. Before you could get down though, he stopped you. “This is what you want right? I don’t want to misinterpret what I think is happening here or pressure you in any way-”

You placed your hands on his face and leaned closer, interrupting him with your first kiss in ten years. 

For a moment, he didn’t respond. It was clear you had surprised him, but then his hands gripped your hips, and he was kissing you back. 

It was even better than you remembered. It had been good back in late high school and your early twenties, there was no doubt about it. Something about now was different though. Maybe it was because you were older, maybe it was because it had been so long, or maybe it was because you felt healed. Whatever it was, kissing Tyler now blew every kiss you’d had before out of the water. 

It was a short kiss, chaste, just to reassure him that you did want him, but when you pulled away the two of you were still breathless. “Am I crazy or was that incredible?” You asked, your hands sliding down his face to his chest. 

Tyler laughed, but nodded, his own hands dragging down your thighs and resting on your knees. “It was,” he replied, but then a smirk fell on his lips, “but we can do better.” 

Not one minute later, you were trying to open the door to your room, Tyler’s large hand low on your stomach as his lips left soft kisses on your neck from behind. You could barely concentrate as heat pooled where his hand rested, and you could not get the key in the door as he kissed a certain spot on your neck. “Ty,” you said through an exasperated laugh. “If you keep doing that I’ll never get us in this room.”

He took the key from your hand, but didn’t stop kissing your neck. You closed your eyes in pleasure as he did, letting him take over the door situation, and in a frustratingly short amount of time, you heard the door knob turn. Your eyes snapped open, turning in Tyler’s arms to find him smirking at you again. 

“How the hell did you do that so easily?” You asked, weaving your arms around his neck as he carefully backed you into the room. 

He shrugged, shutting the door behind him. “Guess you were just too distracted to focus.” 

You playfully glared at him, “I was not-” but you let out a gasp as he suddenly spun you around, pinning you to the door with his body. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just smiling at you as his hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing under your shirt to touch heated skin. “You were, but it’s okay. I liked it.” 

Well he had certainly become more confident in the years apart. Not that he ever wasn’t, but you could definitely tell a difference. However, you had gained a little bit of confidence too, and you smirked at him. “Oh, I can tell.” You replied, pushing your hips forward to press against the hardness you felt. 

Tyler bit his lip at your movements, his hands gripping your hips harder. “We don’t have to do anything. I want you to know that.” 

It drove you crazy, how he could go from being sexy and confident to sweet and respectful within a minute. You slid your arms up his chest and around his neck, tugging his head down to yours. “I want to.” You told him. “Do you?”

He let out a breathless chuckle, “You have no idea how badly I want to.” Tyler said, “I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you at that gas station.” He told you, his nose brushing against yours. 

Tyler had been wanting to get together with you for that long? Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest, and you let out a sigh as his warm hand slipped up the back of your shirt pressing you against him. “You know, I don’t look the same as I did ten years ago.” You admitted, a little bit of insecurity leaking out as you thought about the last time the two of you were together. 

He shook his head, and his hands left a trail of heat as they slid down your back to grip your thighs. “You look better.” 

Your hands slipped into his soft hair. “Now, I know that’s not true.” 

You let out a nose of surprise as Tyler used his grip on your thighs to lift you into the air with his body, smirking up at you. “I think you’re forgetting . . .” His lips found a spot on your neck that he had always kissed, a spot that made chills explode over your body and made a soft moan leave your lips. “I know this body better than anyone.” He whispered in your ear. 

Tyler was right. He had been with you more than anyone else, seen every part of you bare. So what if you didn’t look the same as you did in high school. You were sure he didn’t either. Based on what you felt against your body though, you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You let your hands trail from his hair down his neck and to his chest, noting how his body flexed under your touch. “I think I might need a refresher on yours.” You teased, biting your lip as you played with the buttons on his shirt. 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. “Oh, is that what you need?” 

With fingers that were much steadier than what you felt, you unbuttoned a couple of the top buttons from his shirt. It wasn’t much, but enough to slip your hands into and touch his heated skin. It was the first time you had touched him, really touched him, in so long, and it made you ache for so much more. You pressed your forehead against his, “Right now I need everything you’re willing to give me.” You admitted honestly. 

“Well then,” Tyler’s hands slid down to your ass, holding you close as he started carrying you to the bed. “It’s a good thing I’m willing to give you everything.” He said as he placed you gently on the bed. 

His words made your heart stop for a second and a huge swell of affection for him filled your heart. You wanted to tell him that you still loved him then. That you wanted to give him everything too. The words wouldn’t come though. Not yet anyway. 

So instead, you tried to say them with a kiss. You sat up, grabbing his face in your hands, and tugged him down to meet your lips. The first time you had surprised him, and it took him a moment to respond. That was not the case this time. He kissed you back at once, moving your lips in a dance the two of you knew well. While the first kiss had been sweet, this one was full of passion and tenderness. You let out a little sigh when his lips parted and attempted to pull him closer. It had been so long since you had gotten to really touch him, and you didn’t want to waste another second not doing it. 

He complied, climbing into the bed on top of you, settling between your thighs and letting out a strangled groan as you pushed your hips up into him. He pressed his own against yours and you let out your own moan at the delicious friction. 

The sound made him pull away however, and you frowned, since that was the opposite of what you wanted right now. You watched him as he sat up, his gaze traveling over your body with such intensity you could feel your face heating up. Tyler’s hands rested on your stomach finally, tugging up your tank top so slowly it made you want to just yank it off yourself so his hands could be all over you. Waiting turned out to be worth it though, because as soon as your shirt was off, he started kissing down your neck. Your eyes closed as his lips went lower, and you arched your chest against his mouth as he got closer to one of the spots you wanted his mouth the most. 

“Have you been with other guys?” 

That made your eyes snap open. Those were not the words you expected to come out of his mouth when he was about two seconds away from putting his mouth around you. “W-What?” You said breathlessly. 

But he didn’t seem upset or anything, just genuinely curious. In fact he was grinning at you, his hands resting on your bare hips. “It’s been ten years. You have, right?” 

“Is now really the time for the, ‘how many people have you slept with since me?’ conversation?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Tyler leaned down, pressing his lower body against yours again as his lips hovered over yours. “I don’t care about the number.” He said, shaking his head. “I just want you to know I’m about to kiss the memory of anyone else from your body.” 

His words took your breath from your lungs, but you tried not to let him see how much they affected you. Your arms slipped around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “You’re talking a lot of game for someone who hasn’t initiated a single kiss.” You teased. 

He chuckled,close enough that his lips brushed yours for the briefest moment. “Isn’t it better if you have to wait for it?” 

A soft smile fell on your face then as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Ty, you haven’t kissed me in ten years. Haven’t we waited long enough?” 

He leaned back so he could look at your face, smiling at the look you were giving him. “Yeah. I think we have.” 

Finally, he leaned forward and kissed you, setting your whole body on fire with the intensity of it. Your lips parted almost immediately, and his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring you thoroughly. His hands did the same, heat trailing after them everywhere he touched. 

You knew then, as the two of you kissed and your body, and heart, felt close to combustion, that this was it for you. You had been with other men in your time apart, and none of them had ever come close to making you feel like this. Back when you and Tyler had first started dating, you thought he might have been the one, but now you were sure. So no matter what happened tomorrow, or even after that, you knew that Tyler Owens was going to be it for you. 

To your shock and surprise, you didn’t find that scary at all. 

A breathless sigh left your lips as he slowly pulled away, and he smiled down at you, brushing some hair out of your face. “God you’re beautiful.” 

You had always remembered what he was like in bed, how sweet he could be, but hearing it again was a different story. He had always made you feel so comfortable and sexy, you were so glad to know that none of that had changed. “I missed you.” You blurted out, heat rushing to your face at the confession. 

But his smile just widened, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw. “You’ve got no idea . . .” He started kissing down your neck again. “How much I’ve missed you,” he said, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little as he kissed down your stomach, your breath coming a little faster as his kisses got lower and lower. Your hands tangled into his hair, biting your bottom lip and arching up into his hand as he started unbuttoning your jeans. 

You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans and underwear down the rest of your body, casting them aside somewhere in the room. You didn’t really care where. Tyler kissed back up your body, pausing for a moment on your bra, the last article of clothing you were wearing. After giving him an encouraging nod, he unclasped it, tossing it somewhere too, leaving you completely naked. 

He stared at you, and you felt heat following everywhere his gaze went. His gaze didn’t make you uncomfortable though, it made you feel . . . Desirable. While his eyes looked you over, your eyes watched his face, biting your lip as your hands slid up and down his arms. “You know you’re wearing too many clothes.” 

Tyler grinned down at you. “You wanna help with that?” 

You sat up then, returning his smile. “I would love to.” You took your time, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and taking in every bit of skin that was revealed. Tyler had been fit when the two of you were dating, but now? He looked like he’d come straight out of a magazine. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, you let your hands trail down his chest as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his neck. You felt his whole body relax as your hands slid back up his hard muscles to push his shirt off him, and you trailed your lips across his shoulder and down his arm. 

As soon as his shirt was off him, you made your way back up his arm, pressing gentle kisses every few inches until you reached his face again. He was smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but press a peck against his lips, then another until he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you against his warm chest. Letting out a sigh, you kept your forehead against his for a second, soaking the moment in. 

“I never thought we’d be here again.” Tyler said, shaking his head as his hand dragged up and down your bare back. 

“Me either.” You admitted, letting one of your hands comb through his soft blonde hair, “but I’m glad we are.” 

Tyler didn’t say anything, but leaned forward to meet you in a kiss that said everything he needed to. It told you how much he missed you, the familiarity of his lips moving in rhythm with yours. It told you how badly he wanted you when his tongue slipped into your mouth to caress your own. Then his lips weren’t the only thing showing how much he cared as he gently laid you down on the bed, never letting your lips disconnect. 

It was illogical, but you hoped his lips never left you again. You were drowning, no, floating in him, submerged but safe in the warmth of him as his body laid on top of yours. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, and a moan left your lips as the two of you came into contact. 

Tyler pulled away then, but he didn’t go far, leaving kisses down your chin and neck. “You keep making noises like that, and this is not going to last as long as I want it to.” 

You let out a breathless laugh, tugging at his hair. “The noises are your fault, Owens. You’re the one with no-” you let out a gasp as his lips found your breast, pleasure burning straight to your core. “-Self control.” You panted. 

He gave your nipple a gentle bite, causing you to whimper, before he pulled away to look up at you. “Sorry, what was that about self control?” Tyler asked with a smirk playing on his lips. 

“That you have none.” You said, arching your hips up to rub against him for a moment, making him groan against your skin. “But I don’t think I have any either when it comes to you.” 

His smirk turned into a smile, and his lips found your breast again, immediately shooting even more pleasure through your body. 

Nobody really talks about what it’s like to have sex with someone you used to date years ago. Tyler knew your body so well, he knew exactly how you liked to be touched, and what spots would drive you crazy. It was so easy to fall back into it. On top of that though, the two of you had been with other people in the last few years, and you had more experience and confidence than the kids you used to be.

There was no hesitation in Tyler’s hands as they explored your body, and none in yours as one dragged down his back and the other tangled in his hair, holding him against you. You let out another moan as his hand moved from your inner thigh and a finger slid inside of you. 

He let out another groan as he discovered how wet you were, and leaned up to press his forehead against yours as he added a second finger in. “Are you already ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, bumping your nose against his. “Do you have a condom? I wasn’t anticipating-”

“Having sex with your ex-boyfriend in a motel room?” Tyler grinned as he reached into the back pocket of the jeans you forget he was still wearing and pulled out his wallet, reaching in to take out a condom. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m always prepared.” He said with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but secretly you’d never been more thankful. If the two of you had to stop now to run out and buy condoms, you might’ve lost your mind. You slid your hands down his well defined chest, biting your lip at the muscles you felt there before stopping to rest on the belt of his jeans. “You’re still wearing too many clothes though.” You reminded him. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me with that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you started undoing his belt. “It’s not my fault you distracted me with how hot you are.” 

He laughed, moving your hands out of the way to get his jeans off faster. “Why do you think I got your clothes off so fast? Can’t get distracted if they’re already off.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to remember that for next time.” You teased, sliding your hands back up his chest to rest on his shoulders. It was only when his body froze that you realized what you said. The two of you stared at each other, and you had no clue what to say about your implication of a next time. You didn’t even know if he’d want a next time . . . 

Tyler didn’t let the moment linger though. He shoved the rest of his clothes off and leaned down to kiss you, hard, and all consuming in a way that erased every thought from your head except how much you needed him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you let out a gasp as your hips came into contact. 

You had forgotten how big he was. 

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, he pulled away slowly from your lips, barely leaving a centimeter between them as his finger trailed up and down your slit for a moment. “You can take it. You’ve done it before.” He whispered, and then slipped three fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent your nails digging into his shoulders and heat exploding across your body. “If you can take that, you can take me.” He assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

He was going to ruin you. Part of you thought he already had, since every other time you’d had sex, he was always on your mind, but now you were sure of it. Nobody was ever going to get you more turned on than Tyler Owens. You nodded, because it seemed like he was waiting for an acknowledgment, and attempted to pull him closer with your legs when his fingers slid out of you. “It’s just - it’s been a while.” You admitted.

Tyler gave you a gentle smile. “For me too.” 

His words shocked you for a second, but then you realized they shouldn’t have. Tyler had never been a one night stand kinda guy. As confident as he was, even before the two of you had started dating, he’d only ever dated girls he felt a genuine connection with. The fact that he still felt that with you enough to want to do this had emotions clogging up your throat. You let your hands trail down his body again, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him, your gaze never leaving his face as you enjoyed the sight of his reaction to you touching him. “Then let’s not wait anymore.” You said, guiding him towards you. 

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He pressed forward, and you let out a sigh as he slipped inside of you, your head falling back against the pillow. It was a tight fit, there was no doubt, but he moved slowly, showing, once again, how well he knew your body. Any time you tensed up, he paused, though you could feel by how tense his muscles were how much he was holding back. “That’s right,” he would tell you when your breath started to come faster. “Remember how well you take me?” 

Oh God you did. He fit inside of you like no one else. Even years later he filled you up just enough to not be painful, but more than enough to be satisfying. Another gasp of air left your lips as he pushed more inside of you, and you could tell he was almost completely in. 

“You’re doing such a good job.” Tyler said, leaving another kiss against your skin. “Made just for me.” And while his voice was soft, it was also strained from effort. 

You opened your eyes as you felt him push forward again, and dug your nails into where they had rested on his shoulders once more as he pushed completely inside of you, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he did. 

There was nothing like this. Absolutely nothing. You moved your eyes from the ceiling to find him looking at you like you’d just hung each star in the sky for him alone. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He said breathlessly. 

Did he really expect you to be able to think right now? You couldn’t think enough to have a filter if you opened your mouth, and you knew that was partially what he wanted. So you let the words slip from your lips. “I’m thinking about how no ones ever felt as good as you do.” He rewarded your words with a little thrust of his hips that had you gasping. “I’m thinking about how you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Another thrust, this one harder, and you tightened your legs around him. “And I’m thinking about how much I missed you, Ty.” You said softly, letting out a whimper as his hand slid up to your breast, cupping it and letting his thumb caress your nipple. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just watching as your hips jerked against his, desperate for the pleasure only he could provide, his eyes locked on your face as if he was committing it to memory. “Would you believe me if I told you I was thinking about all those things too?” 

You didn’t have to think about it. You nodded, moving your hands from his shoulders to tangle in his hair. “I know.” 

Tyler leaned down to meet your lips in a bruising kiss as he thrust inside of you, starting a slow and steady pace that continued to pick up speed with every passing minute until you couldn’t keep up the kiss any longer. Your head fell back against the pillows, and your eyes closed in pleasure as his warm, calloused hand traveled down your body to where the two of you met. “Eyes on me sweetheart.” He said, and pressed his thumb against your clit. 

“Fuck, Ty!” Your eyes snapped open and your chest arched into his, tugging on his hair at the overstimulating sensation. His hips stuttered for a moment as you felt yourself clench around him, but he kept up the movement of his thumb, tracing circles around it. The pleasure was almost too much. You could feel it building inside of you, desperate for release, and you clung tightly to him. “I can’t- I’m-” You couldn’t even get the words out, too overwhelmed with feelings. 

“It’s okay, you can let go.” He said, “I’ve got you.” He assured you, never ceasing his pace or his finger. 

His words triggered your release, almost as if you’d been waiting for permission and you moaned out his name as it washed over you. You clung to him like he was a liferaft, holding you in above water as you clenched around him. You heard him groan your name, saying how good you were, and within seconds you felt his body tense, falling over the edge with you. 

As the pleasure faded from your body to satisfaction, you didn’t want to let him go and groaned in discontent when he pulled back and out of you. He chuckled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” 

You sighed, opening your eyes as you watched him head into the bathroom, unable to believe that you had just had sex with such an attractive man, even if he was your ex. He was more than an attractive man though, or just your ex. He was Tyler. The boy you gave your heart to ten years ago who never gave it back. A tender smile was on your lips as he came back to you with a damp washcloth and started gently cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” He asked, the hand that wasn’t cleaning you up resting on your thigh and rubbing the skin there. 

“I will be once you get back in bed.” You replied, and your smile widened at the pleased expression on his face. You let out a laugh as he tossed the washcloth aside and hurriedly climbed into bed, spooning you against his back. 

He nuzzled into your neck, leaving kisses against your skin as he made himself comfortable against you, and shivers exploded across your body as his hand rested on your stomach. “Comfortable?” Tyler asked, pressing another kiss to your cheek. 

Being in his arms again? Comfortable didn’t even begin to describe it. As cliche and embarrassing as it sounded, for the first time since you’d come to your hometown, you actually felt like you were home. “Perfect,” you replied, scooting back even more into him. 

And you meant it. 

————————

You woke up cold, but oh so satisfied. Part of you wondered if last night had been a dream, but you knew that your body couldn’t lie like that. You definitely had the post sex ache. You stretched your limbs out and rolled over, wanting to curl back into Tyler and maybe sleep for a few more hours, but you were met with nothing but sheets. 

Frowning, you opened your eyes, letting your fingers drag across the fabric. It was cool, so he’d been gone for a while. It was only when your eyes drifted up to the pillow did you notice the scrap of paper. 

Stay. 

It was written quickly, almost as if an afterthought, and you frowned at it. Did he really think that he had to ask? You got out of bed, and found a tshirt in the floor. Slipping on your underwear and the tshirt, you sat down at the small table and grabbed your laptop. You’d been writing like crazy lately on a new book, and you’d definitely woken up feeling inspired this morning. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there typing. It was a great distraction from your thoughts, and when you got into the zone, it could be hours before you realized you hadn’t stood up from your chair. You weren’t so in the zone though that you didn’t hear the doorknob start to turn. 

Tyler entered, once again looking entirely too good in his dark brown button down, jeans and cowboy hat. He carried a familiar brown bag and cup of iced coffee in his hand and held a cautious smile as he looked at you. “Brought you some breakfast.” 

You held out your hands to take it from him, eagerly sipping at the iced coffee as he sat down at the seat across from you. “Thank you, I needed this.” You said, leaning back against your chair. He was watching you, that cautious look still on his face making you nervous. Was he regretting last night? Was he trying to figure out the polite way to tell you it had all been a mistake? 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, and the sudden question threw you off, you didn’t even have the chance to think about throwing up a filter. 

“I’m thinking that I hope you’re not regretting last night. I’m also thinking that you’re too far away.” You admitted, frowning at the distance between the two of you. 

His whole body seemed to relax at your words and the smile that you knew and loved fell back onto his face. He held out his hand to you, and without hesitation you took it, returning his smile as he tugged you out of your chair to sit sideways across his lap. You buried your face in his neck, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close. “Better?” Tyler asked, one of his hands tracing up and down your outer thigh. 

You nodded, tightening your arms around him. “Much better.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You knew the conversation that needed to be had, but you had no clue how to even begin to start it. Should you blurt out how you feel? Should you ask him how he was feeling? Tyler beat you to the punch though with a statement that stopped your mind in its tracks. 

“I read your book.” 

Your body froze as your brain took a moment to process his words. Once they did, heat rushed to your face, and you pulled away to look at him. “How did you even-”

“Boone. He gave me a copy pretty much right after you showed up.” He said, and his hand gave your thigh a squeeze. “I noticed some . . . Similarities.” 

You bet he did. More than enough to be embarrassing. You bit your lip, knowing the question that he wanted to ask, and decided to go ahead and give him the option to ask it anyway. “What do you want to know?” You finally said. 

For a moment it wasn’t the new Tyler that you’d been getting to know over the past couple of weeks that was looking at you. The confident, caring, intelligent tornado wrangler. It was young Tyler, the bull rider who wanted nothing more than to ride his fears and bring you along for it. “I guess I’m just wondering why they got their happy ending, and we didn’t.” 

Just because you anticipated it, doesn’t mean it hurt any less. “Ty . . .” You placed your hand on top of his, gripping it in yours. “I wrote that book two years after our breakup. I wasn’t ready to be her then. There were . . .” You took a deep breath. “A lot of things I was still holding onto.” 

“But if I had quit when you asked me to-”

You were shaking your head before he could even finish his sentence. “I never should have asked you to do that.” You let go of his hand to take his face in your hands to encourage him to keep his eyes on you. “Tyler, our breakup had absolutely everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you.” This confession had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for years now, and you finally had the courage to say it. “I looked at you, riding those bulls, and all I could see was my dad. It scared me.” You admitted, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Drunk, constantly concussed, and soon to be dead either from one or the other. I know that’s not you now, and I should’ve known it back then, but I was too damaged.” 

Tyler looked sad, his hand still caressing your skin. “I would have fought for you.” 

“I know.” You said, and you did. You knew that Tyler would have fought to stay by your side until the end if you hadn’t pushed him away. 

“You were everything to me back then.”

God it hurt. Remembering the look on his face when you had walked out that door. You still had nightmares about it, but like you had struggled to learn, there was nothing you could do about it now. The two of you sat there for a moment before you finally got the courage to ask the question you’d been wanting to. “What about now?” You asked. “Think we can make it?”

A small, disbelieving smile formed on his face. “Is that an option?” 

You nodded. “At least I hope it is. That ball’s in your court Tyler Owens. I’m the one that broke your heart.” You said, sliding a hand down to rest over his heart. “So . . . is that an option?” You asked, biting your lip as your heart started thumping heavily against your chest. God what if you’d just said all that and spent the best night of your life with him for Tyler to say it wasn’t worth the risk? That’d you’d done damage beyond repair? 

Tyler didn’t give you time for your thoughts to get any more out of control. “Oh, it’s definitely an option.” He said, and his bright smile had your heart fluttering. “In fact, I’d say it’s my preferred option.” 

You could barely believe it, even after last night. “You really want to give me a second chance?” You asked in disbelief. 

His smile turned soft, and his hand covered your own on his chest. “Sweetheart, I’d give you all the chances in the world.” 

And then, because you didn’t know what else to say, you leaned forward and kissed him. 

Once again, everything was the same, but somehow different. A better different.

[creativeashproductions]

...And Then I Met Him | Series Masterlist

Jake Seresin x OC

When Vayda Thomas-Mitchell's uncle, Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell, comes into her life helping her take care of her sick mother, it was hard to imagine it with out him, especially when he's been given a special assignment in San Diego that prohibits him from visiting and helping her in Georgia. However, when she's offered to come live with him in California, she uproots her mother and herself from their dark past in hopes that things would brighten in a new life on the East Coast.

Content Warning: fluff, angst, mentions of death, mentions of physical harm, mentions of abuse, actual death, actual physical harm (because they have dangerous jobs), actual abuse (and dark themes in general later in the story), naval aviators (cuz they are the way they are), inaccurate military happenings, eventual smut (fingering, oral both male and female, unprotected sex, variety of kinks, more...) PLEASE TO NOT IGNORE OR TAKE THESE WARNINGS LIGHTLY IF YOU NEED HELP, PLEASE CONTACT SOMEONE 18+, MINORS DO NOT INDULGE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS WILL BE IN EACH CHAPTER

Word Count: ??

Teaser

Character Guide

Prologue - The Call

Chapter 1 -

Chapter 2 -

Chapter 3 -

Chapter 4 -

[creativeashproductions]

the sixth sense | jake "hangman" seresin

summary: after a car accident totals her car and leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, an anxious police desk sergeant learns to live with the ghosts haunting her home, and the crush she has on the hot pilot who lives next door

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

warnings: car accidents, ghosts (but they're very funny ghosts!), sexual innuendos/advances made by a ghost, if you can recognize the names of the detectives/station staff and can correctly tell me what tv show they are from, you get a metaphorical cookie. jake is a very involved neighbour.

author's note: my f1 fics for this collection have been on the struggle bus lately, so here's hoping my top gun one does better

sargeant y/l/n wouldn't say she hated her job, exactly, but there were many days where she wasn't always thrilled with it. take today for example, her desk piled high with requisition forms for fingerprint checks, traffic camera footage, autopsy reports and more.

it wasn't that she didn't like the work. no, she found catching murderers to be most rewarding. it was the people she worked with. detectives who didn't see her as an equal, but as a machine, dropping files on her desk with a demand and an impossible deadline.

"yn, how busy are you for the next few days?"

she raised her eyebrows at the detective across from her. "for you, detective disher? i won't be free until at least the end of the week."

detective disher raised an eyebrow. "how much work are they piling on you? you aren't their servants, you can speak up and tell them you're too busy."

she rolled her eyes, chewing the end of her bic pen. "usually they hightail it out of here before i even have a chance to open my mouth. some of them don't even speak to me or give instructions, they just drop a file on my desk and assume that i know what to do with it."

detective disher frowned. "we really need another desk sargeant."

"you think?"

it was long after sundown when she left the office that night, overtime she probably wasn't going to get paid for. she hoped that leaving at 6:30 was worth it to have a clean desk in the morning, one almost free of files long enough that she could breathe. of course, by the morning, all of the late shift detectives would have dropped all of their files off for her review.

she was about halfway home when traffic started to pick up again, the glow of the led headlights making it difficult to see out of her side mirrors. her glasses claimed to be glare resistant, but what did someone without astigmatism know about glare?

she turned right at the next set of lights, descending down the hill that would lead to her small, cosy neighbourhood. she was still a fair distance away as she watched the light change from yellow to red, taking her foo toff the gas. the car ahead of her seemed to be slowing, but not by much, and the car behind her was uncomfortably close. she sped up slightly, ready to put her foot on the brakes whenever neccesary.

wait a minute, are his break lights out? he's stopping!

she slammed her foot on the brakes, watching helplessly as her car continued to slide forward, her front bumper colliding with the rusted tail hitch.

her head jerked forward from the impact, banging against the steering wheel before it all went black.

she came to in the hospital, where audio was blurry and vision even worse as the doctor explained the symptoms of a concussion to her.

“it was a bad scene all around. you’re lucky you weren’t injured further.” the doctor insisted. “legally, I can’t allow you to drive for the next few days. is there someone we can call?”

realistically, the only name that came to mind was detective dishers. her parents were two cities away, and she didn’t want to disturb them. her sister was on vacation, and she didn’t want to bother any of her friends.

disher picked her up by the main doors, a matchbox twenty song playing on his stereo as she groggily slipped into the passenger seat, a plastic baggie full of prescription drugs in her hands.

“just take me home, randy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

the detective sighed. “okay. But you know you don’t have to come into work tomorrrow, right?”

great. no work meant no leaving the house. no leaving the house meant that her thoughts drove her to the brink of madness.

she simply couldn’t win.

as she slipped into her bed, she must have been slowly losing her mind as she swore that she could hear voices in her room as she was drifting off. she didn't think much of it, chalking it up to exhaustion as she let sleep claim her.

the following morning, she groggily puttered around the kitchen, assembling a light breakfast as she called her captain to explain why she couldn't come to wrok.

"hey captain, i was in an accident last night-"

"i know. randy called me. are you doing okay?"

"no concussion, but the doctor wants me to monitor for signs, so i'm not super hopeful. disher drove me home, and i'm supposed to hear from the mechanics about the state of my car later today."

"well, take care of yourself, yn. if you need anything at all, you have my number, and you have randy's. but don't call adrian, he's probably just going to make things worse."

she sighed, rubbing the skin on her forehead, fingertips teasing the edge of the bandages from where she'd hit her head on the steering wheel. "thanks leland."

"my my, you look a little worse for wear, don't you?" the voice came from nowhere, very thickly british and definitely not familiar.

she spun around, spying a figure in the kitchen doorway. his long hair dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, and his skinny jeans were ripped to oblivion. she screamed, reaching for the metal ladle in her utensils jar.

"how the fuck did you get into my house?"

"your house?" the man looked confused. "sweetheart, i've always been here. i wouldn't throw that at me, if i was you. you'll just damage the wall behind me."

"who the fuck are you?" she stammered. "you're not real, this is just concussion brain, i should call the doctor back and go another scan-"

"you're seeing ghosts, honey." this voice was older, deeper. kinder. and significantly less british. another body materialized in her kitchen, sitting at her breakfast counter. she was round and plump, with a rosy face and sweet, kind eyes. she wore a nun's habit over a white blouse and a long navy skirt. "rick over there died in 1984. i'm sister katherine, and i died in 1961. lovely to meet you properly."

"the fuck do you mean i'm seeing ghosts?!" yn screamed, the sound reverberating through her skull. "you're not real!"

"i understand that this is a lot to take in." sister katherine insisted "but it must have something to do with the accident you were in last night."

"how do you know about my accident?" she pushed, brandishing her metal spoon as a weapon.

rick rolled his eyes. "because we watched that detective bring you home last night. tell me, are you two sordid lovers? if i wasn't dead i would love to get a piece of your-"

"enough, richard!"

"what the hell is happening right now? has he been watching me in the shower?" yn hissed under her breath, starting to pace back and forth in front of her stovetop.

"if you've got a head injury, you should really sit down." the nun kept trying to reason with yn, but nothing in this situation made one iota of sense.

she shakily sat down in one of the ikea chairs in her kitchen, and noted how badly her hands were shaking. she dropped the ladle on the table, clasping her hands together. she refused to look at rick and sister katherine, instead focusing on where her shellac manicure had begun to chip.

she really should book herself in for a fresh one.

"we have visitors!" rick's voice carried, his ghostly body reappearing next to yn. she startled in the chair, refusing to meet his eyes. "he looks annoyed, and he's wearing mechanics coveralls. i wore a pair of those on stage once. ladies love 'em."

"he was in a very unsuccessful hair band." sister katherine clarified.

"i need both of you to stay quiet for a second." she sighed. "he must be from the body shop."

she closed the front door behind her, although that was unlikely to do much against two beings who could walk through walls, but a girl could try.

"are you y/n y/l/n?"

"sergeant y/n y/l/n." she corrected. "san francisco pd. can i help you?"

"i'm from clint's garage, detective disher brought your car in last night."

that didn't sound good. behind her, she could hear a car door slam in her neighbour's driveway. oh good, jake was home. she tried not to let her eyes wander, waiting with bated breath for what the mechanic was going to say next.

"the front bumper was totally smashed, caved in where you hit the trailer hitch. the hood is also bent back a bit from impact. the good news is that the airbags didn't go off, which means your car can be fixed. the bad news is that it's going to cost more than your car is worth."

she could feel her headache coming back, her legs beginning to feel weak. she knew her car wasn't worth much due to it's age. but the city didn't pay her enough for her to be able to take on the payment for a new car outright, even if she was buying used.

she felt unsteady, and her body was starting to list to one side as two strong arms picked her up.

"i've got you, just keep breathing." the smell of cologne was overwhelming. there was no way in fuck that was rick, and it wasn't the mechanic.

she'd know that texan drawl anywhere. and that meant that right now, she was in navy pilot jake seresin's arms.

and that idea made her feel a little more faint that normal.

jake seresin had lived in that neighbourhood longer than her. she'd moved into her rental house just over four years ago, and he'd bene there on viewing day in a tight white tank top and jeans, getting all sudsy as he washed his silverado in the driveway. she couldn't resist watching from the window as he got into his truck in full navy fatigues before he went to work, or when he worked out shirtless on his front lawn since the porch took up most of the back.

she cleared her throat. "can i get an estimate for the repairs? will it cost less than buying a whole new car?"

the mechanic sighed. "look, even at randy's mates rate, it would still be more advisable to buy something new. go to a dealership and look at the preowned lot, anything less than 20k will serve you a lot better than getting this car fixed up would."

she couldn't form words, mind going fuzzy from the feeling of jakes hand on her lower back, and the thought of going back inside and facing the ghosts again.

"thanks, man. she can't drive for a few days anyway," jake started "but i'll bring her to the car lot when she's better and help her find something nicer."

jake helped her back inside, where the ghosts were watching giddily with their heads through the kitchen wall.

"you didn't have to do that." she insisted, avoiding eye contact with sister katherine while she spoke to jake. "i really can't afford a new car."

she could hear sister katherine in the background, whispering to rick. he's a hot one, and a real gentleman too!

"but you can't drive that one either. it's almost twenty years old, yn." jack frowned. "treat yourself. finance if you have to. take the scrap money and run, that's what i would do. you think the navy pays me well either?"

she fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and slump down on the table. "can you drive me to my follow up at the end of the week? he just wants to make sure there's no brain damage. i was going to get detective disher to do it, but if you have the morning off its less hassle."

jake looked puzzled. "why would you want me to do it instead of your boyfriend? shouldn't that be his job?"

"why the fuck does everybody think i'm hooking up with randy?" she shouted. "jesus, jake. he's my fucking boss."

the pilot's face was red as he carded his fingers through his hair. "he just seems to be over here a lot. he drove you home from the hospital last night and i just assumed."

"he's over here a lot because his girlfriend threw him out so sometimes i let him sleep on the daybed in my spare room while he finds a new place. we've been friends for years, we were at the academy together. i could be where he is if i wasn't too chickenshit to go into the field."

jake paused for effect. "well, this is awkward. are you sure you never thought about it."

despite herself, yn laughed. "we hooked up once back at the academy. we were sooo not compatible."

"i fucking knew it!" she heard rick shout in the background. "men and women can't just be friends!"

"richard!" sister katherine cut him off. "let the girl speak and mind your own business."

"lucky for you," jake grinned, totally unaware of the ghosts arguing behind him, every syllable of their argument making yn cringe inside "i happen to have the day off on friday. i'll take you to the doctors, and if everything is good, we can go to the car lot where i bought my truck. the guy will give you a good deal."

"i want a volkswagen. that's non-negotiable." she warned.

"that's fine. we can even stop by the garage and pick up your scrap money to put towards a deposit."

her chest felt tight with everything jake was offering to do for her. it was a slight anxiety, but a positive one. nerves that sprung to mind when she thought that maybe jake was offering to do all of these things for her because he wanted to be more than just her neighbour.

and as incredible as she knew it would feel to have a special place in jake seresin's heart, she'd been out of a relationship for so long that being in one again scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

true to his word, jake picked her up promptly at ten am the following morning. she had stressed about what to wear all morning, dodging criticisms about her outfit choice from sister katherine ('seriously, what on earth are they selling in the clothing shops these days? tops are supposed to go to the top of your jeans! what happened to dressing respectably?) and outdated sex tips from rick (which came with a knowledge of the ghost's kinks that she wished she could erase from her memory).

"just to be clear, you guys are bound to this house, right? you died here and now you can't leave?"

sister katherine nodded. "that is how being dead works, my love. we have to stay here while you go out gallivanting with your fancy man."

she stifled a laugh. "jake is not my fancy man. and neither is randy."

"whatever you say, cutie." rick winked. "and if you ever find yourself being undead in the walls of this house, give me a call and let me rock your world."

shaking her head with a laugh, she closed the front door behind her and headed over the grass to jake's house. he was waiting with two thermoses of hot chocolate and looked like he had just finished vacuuming the inside of his truck.

"good morning sunshine, let's go get you a clean bill of health!"

the wait to see the specialist was longer than the appointment. it lasted no longer than half an hour while the doctor took another brain scan and declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with y/n aside from some superficial bruising to the skin on her forehead where she hit the steering wheel. jake insisted that her clean bill of health was worth celebrating, ushering her back into the truck and refusing to tell her where they were going.

"you know i'm a serving police officer, right? one call to captain stottlemeyer and there's a all points bulletin out on your truck."

jake laughed heartily. "i'm not kidnapping you, sweets. damn, you really don't like surprises."

"can't say i'm a fan."

minutes later, jake pulled off a secluded country road and into a parking lot lined in mulch. for a place that was so out of the way, the parking lot was packed to the brim and jake had to park the silverado what felt like miles away from the building itself. like a true gentleman, he helped her down from the truck's cab, one hand on the small of her back as they walked towards the large country store.

"a farmers market?" she giggled. "big bad hangman frequents farmer's markets?"

"how do you know my call sign?"

"you have it written on a metal sign in your garage."

jake winked at her, opening the heavy glass door. the country store was in a large refurbished barn, with the hayloft having been fully converted into a small cafe. his hand was warm through her cinnamon colored t-shirt as jake guided her towards the stairs to the cafe.

"do you like cinnamon buns?"

"of course i like cinnamon buns. who do you take me for?"

laughing to himself, jake had a large smile on his tanned face as he guided her towards a window seat. "make yourself comfy, sugar. i'll be right back."

she hated to see jake seresin leave, but she loved to watch him go, shamelessly watching the rippling muscles underneath his tight levis jeans.

he came back a few minutes later, two white china plates in hand, each one with a steaming warm cinnamon bun on top. as he passed her a plate, the cowboy made the bold claim that these were the best cinnamon buns in san francisco.

"i'll be the judge of that." yn said with a laugh, trying to pick up the sticky pastry in her hands in the most dainty way possible. the buns were large, mostly taking up the small plate.

"need a knife for that, sarge?"

"shut up, hangman."

"you know i outrank you, right?" jake joked, a sly look in his eyes.

she stuck her tongue out at the pilot, wishing she had a third hand so she could give him the finger. "bite me."

"all in due time, sugar."

she tried to hide the blush taking over her face, busying herself with taking the first bite of her pastry while she tried to ignore the images that jake's comment had conjured in her mind.

of course, the moan that she let out upon tasting the pastry did nothing to ease the sinful thoughts creeping into her mind. she could tell jake noticed, his breath momentarily catching in his throat despite the smile never breaking on his face.

"am i right or am i right?"

"fine." she playfully rolled her eyes. "you were beyond right. these are incredible!"

she beamed over at jake, wiping up some of the warm glaze on her chin that hadn't fully dried before she'd taken a bite. he was sitting across from her at the small table, and had yet to touch his cinnamon roll.

"you've got a little something..." he started, reaching a warm hand over the table to brush against her lips, wiping up some cinnamon that had been left behind.

her breath caught at the action, her eyes catching jake's blue ones. he truly was a beautiful man. time seemed to slow, jake's eyes slowly moving from her own to her lips and then back up again, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

"yn, can i kiss you?"

"yes."

he leaned over the table, gently rising from his wooden chair as he pressed his lips against hers. he was soft at first, almost apprehensive until she gripped his wrist where he was caressing her face, tilting her head back to give him a better angle and kiss him harder.

kissing jake seresin was everything she'd wanted it to be and more. if this was a movie, there would be fireworks going off behind them, and a sappy pop rock ballad playing as background music. perhaps something by lifehouse or matchbox twenty.

her lips felt sticky as jake pulled away, a goofy smile on both of their faces.

"you haven't touched your pastry." she said shyly.

jake grinned. "that's because you taste a lot nicer."

they stopped at the dealership on the way back, after having picked up the scrap money. yn test drove a volkswagen, fairly new with few miles on it. she decided to make it a point to come back within the end of the weekend, having already fallen in love with the little car. she felt like was, for lack of better words, walking on sunshine as jake pulled into his driveway, one of his large hands resting comfortably on her thigh.

he helped her down, looking forlornly over to her house, almost as if he'd enjoyed himself and didn't want the night to end.

"i have to go into work early tomorrow, and you've probabaly got heaps of work to do as well, so i'll let you get back to it." jake sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "but, if you're up for it, i can stop by tomorrow and make you something for dinner?"

she smiled up at him, reaching to take his free hand in hers. "i'd love that." remembering her ghostly guests, she hesitated. "but maybe we could do it at your house instead?"

"i would like nothing more, sarge."

"good." she pressed up onto her tiptoes, kissing jake softly.

his hand snaked around her waist, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans as he deepened the kiss. she hummed contentedly, gently stroking his face with her thumb, hand resting on his cheek.

"i can't wait." she winked at him before she cut across her front lawn, backing towards her property. her southern gentlemen saluted her as she unlocked her front door, slipping inside the foyer.

"soooooooo." rick's familiar english drawl began. "how did things go with john wayne over there?"

and despite herself, yn was very much looking forward to sharing details of her budding romance with rick and sister katherine.

things were coming up roses for sargeant yn yln, and she was so excited to see what the future had in store.

[creativeashproductions]

The Old Therebefore // Luke Castellan

Part of the “The Threads the Bind Us” blurb collection

IN WHICH: Hex does the unthinkable and creates a successful adult life. Or Hex has made peace with the ending of her former relationship with Luke. Or thought so when suddenly Hex is sitting on her acreage porch reminiscing with him on their teen years and the interlude between Luke leaving and this moment.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, May’s mental state, and nostalgia.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader (nicknamed Hex)

Words: 2.2k

Part of the “The Threads that Bind Us” blurb collection

A/N: Divider comes from @firefly-graphics.

@websterss Julieeeee look what I did!

Masterlist

It was the fifth anniversary of that night. 1,826 days, give or take, since the life you intricately built imploded. Even in the years following Luke’s disappearance from camp, the bitterness that had coated your love for him hadn’t kept you from your promise. Unlike Luke, you honoured your promises. So once the agony and heartbreak had dulled, you set out from camp to Connecticut.

The house was a pale blue with chipped white trim and flower beds just a tad overgrown. The massive tree in the front yard had a worn swing attached to the thickest branch that swayed either by the wind or the memories of a young child. There was an indent on the porch exactly where Luke had described falling and breaking his collarbone. The steps had been slick from the January snowstorm that year.

It was the Castellan home. The lights were on, and a man sat on the porch steps unmoving. Even if the godly attributes didn’t give it away, the nose and his fingers tapping a specific melody on his thighs gave him away. Even his posture.

Hermes. God of Messengers, Travellers, and Thieves. Messenger of the Gods. Or Luke’s estranged father and bane of his existence.

“He-“ 

“—respectfully, Hermes, I don’t want to discuss your child. I’m not your therapist nor your friend.” You sternly informed the god. You didn’t spare him another look before striding up the porch to the front door. When your hand is raised to knock, the grip of a warm hand is wrapped around your wrist.

“Fine. But taking it out on his mother—“Hermes almost winced when you cast a glare upon his features.

“Unlike you, I am not entirely a self-absorbed little errand boy for Zeus. Nor do I abandon people I love, even if Luke did it first.” You spat his name out with barely restrained disgust, “I made a promise to help, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

Hermes let you wrench your wrist from his hand and rap three times on the house. The door opened, revealing a woman about 5 feet 5 inches tall with thick black hair streaked with grey strands and a smile on her face. The shattered expression in her eyes and the blankness of her face stole your breath. May Castellan was older but still the same woman in that worn picture Luke hid under his bunk mattress; it had disappeared along with its owner.

“Hello.” May breathed, blinking until an unsettling smile coated her features, “Are you here for the cookies?”

“I am.” You spoke, deciding to keep her as calm as possible. 

You toed off your boots beside the much smaller kid shoes stashed on the mud rack. The rubber sole of the Converse had a little stick man doodled on it. Luke doodled the same stick man on all the soles of his shoes to deter his siblings from swiping them.

“I made Luke’s favourite. He’s at a friend’s.” May breathed in a trance, and you wondered what year she thought it was.

Even without peeking into her mind, you could feel the splinters of her sanity cutting into your abilities. It was so fragmented that you genuinely worried if you had even a chance to mend anything.

“Mrs. Castellan, do you remember the doctor talking about new methods beyond medication and traditional therapy?” you gently asked, watching as she pulled a pan of cookies from the oven. The warmth of the appliance heated the room to almost an uncomfortable temperature.

The sight of dozens of pans of cookies around the room, varying in colour from severely underbaked beige to as dark and hard as a hockey puck. 

“Oh yes.” May hummed, keeping her brown eyes on the scuffed blue porcelain mixing bowl. 

“Would you be interested in trying a few sessions with me?” You questioned and found for the first time since coming that she was all there mentally.

“Would it help Luke?” It was a timid question that confused you, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Maybe.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes peered over her shoulder to the entrance of the kitchen, where Hermes was standing as quietly as possible. His eyes followed May as she puttered around the kitchen and wandered to the plush couch in the living room. The walls held pictures of Luke at different ages, until the forlorn one with barely a smile at nine years old.

“Here, love.” Hermes soothed, guiding May’s hands to the cup on the coffee table. It still held the paper and crayons with LC on the box in chicken scratch.

You saw the little touches that meant a much younger and more innocent version of Luke had been here. Did the memories of Luke haunt the halls of his house like he did at camp? 

While having Hermes there was the last choice you would have made you would just have to make do. He kept urging May to listen as he told her tales from his long life. She didn’t twitch when your fingertips caressed her temples, and you toed inside her mind.

You had spent an entire year in Westport, using every weekend to untangle the strings of May’s sanity. Hermes never failed to be there to distract her and help her from fighting it. It was an intensely slow and exhausting year, but by the end, the fractures of her mind had mended. Now, it was a beautiful Kintsugi in her mind.

You left Westport to build a new life. You attended college and found a job at an independent bookstore. You had your own house. Had a promising career you were proud of. You did fairly well.

“Can you get the door?” 

You hummed from your position on the rug in the living room to get back on your feet from tidying it up. You could quickly wave a hand and manipulate your energy to pick everything up, but you liked pretending to be a regular mortal. Your only worries were being on time for work and keeping up with hobbies.

“Got it!” 

Your lips twitched. You found Chris Rodriguez trying to wrangle his kid into the karate uniform. You gently pushed him further away on your trip to the front door.

“Rodriguez, it’s Friday.” You spoke gazing over your shoulder while your fingers twisted the lock open, “Flag Football Friday.”

“Shit!” Chris swore, scooping Axel into his arms and racing back to the stairs. Your laugh cut off when you finally looked at the person at the front door.

Genuinely, you felt the blood drain from your face. Standing there before you with longer curls and an ease you didn’t remember. It was one Luke Castellan in the flesh.

“Hey, Hex.” 

Luke faltered, peering beyond you to the frozen form of his brother holding the tiny cleats for a child. The child in question was listening intently to Clarisse.

“Now it’s only dirty if you get caught.”

“Chris, can you take Axel into the backyard and throw the football?” You questioned, refusing to look away from the man who shouldn’t be here.

You felt the fury from Clarisse’s direction and put your hand on Luke’s chest to push him out of the house. The door closed firmly, cutting off any view of your small family and life.

“How are you here? How are you alive? Aren’t you supposed to be Kronos’ vessel?” you demanded, crossing your arms and glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

Luke pushed his hands into his jeans. “Uh, I guess you guys haven’t kept in touch with camp.”

Your lips twisted, “No. The summer you left, I decided to take a page out of your book and leave.”

You caught the wince from the man and felt the slightest twinge of guilt at his reaction, but you had a right? Didn’t you?

“Is Annabeth here?” Luke asked, trying to look in the frosted glass of your bright blue door. All Luke had for communication was Iris-messaging and letters from his little sister.

“No,” you bluntly responded and elaborated out of pity, “Annabeth and Percy live in California now.”

“No way. Annabeth would never live in California! It’s too dangerous!” Luke adamantly replied, tensing his muscles. His body language took you back to his training sessions with the younger campers.

Your brows furrowed, “Oh! Shit, no, actually, Percy went missing before the Second Giant War happened. We found him at Camp Jupiter. It’s a Roman version of Camp Half-blood.”

It was rather unsettling how easy it was to revert to your old relationship with Luke. Revealing things you probably shouldn’t.

“Roman?” Luke questioned, tilting his head to the right like he had always done with his curious nature.

“Yeah. Anyway, the lovebirds attend New Rome University there. Annabeth alternates between school and travelling between Mount Olympus, New Rome and New York for her architecture work.”

“Oh.” Luke mumbled, peering at the ground, “I guess things have really changed.”

That soured your reminiscing, “Why are you here, Luke?”

“Chiron said I should start trying to repair my friendships with everyone. Can I come in?”

You gently glanced back to your house and found Clarisse stoically staring him down, “Honestly, it’s not a good idea. Clarisse would be very interested in teaching Axel about the importance of protein and using you like a skewer as an example.”

You watched Luke stumble before dropping to sit on the porch with a devastated look.

“I don’t know what happened between you leaving and now. When Ethan or I suppose Kronos, announced your disappointment, Annabeth looked everywhere for you. What made you stop?”

It was the one question you had wondered about for years: Why did he give up his plans and his servitude to Kronos? Why did he never come back? Why did he give you up so easily?

Luke twisted to peer off into the sunset, saying, “I went home to Westport. I had prepared myself for seeing my mom because it was necessary for the next part of the plan—“

“Dipping yourself in the River Styx,” you sarcastically respond, glancing over, “Ethan’s really got a big mouth.”

Luke tugged a blade of grass from the yard and started twisting it in his fingers.

“Imagine my surprise when I see the house has been repainted, the decorations and fixtures updated, and my mother preparing a feast in the kitchen with no cookie in sight.”

Your lips stretched, happy to hear May was thriving still. You really need to get back up to visit her.

“Good for her.” You sighed, dropping to sit beside him and watch the sunset with him. I last saw her three years ago at my college convocation.”

It was silent, and when he spoke, his voice cracked, “Why couldn’t I fix her?”

“I think it’s because May was never broken like Hermes described or Apollo claimed. I won’t lie and say her mind was perfect or just needed polishing. The memories were sharp, and the splintered remnants were the hardest puzzle, but I restored it enough. When Rachel became the Oracle of Delphi and the curse was fully lifted, whatever I hadn’t been able to help May restore snapped back into place.”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees, staring at the field. You’d intentionally bought your property with an excellent commute to the urban areas but still having privacy.

“So, is Axel yours?” Luke asked, glancing over to you. His barely concealed question amused you the most.

“No. He’s Chris and Clarisse’s son. He’s the best part of them.” You replied, “He brings out the best in them, too. Clarisse is incredibly patient with him. Don’t let her hear, but she’s softer with him.”

“Clarisse as a mother.” Luke chuckled, mimicking your position, drawing his long legs to his chest. “That I didn’t see coming.”

“Clarisse wants another one, but Chris refuses. He wants to be married first.” You sighed, shifting to stretch out your legs.

“They aren’t married yet?” Luke laughed, peering over, “I genuinely thought they’d be the first to run to city hall.”

“Chris didn’t want to be married and not have you there for him.”

The conversation petered out, leaving neither an uncomfortable nor peaceful silence. The two of you simply existed in that space.

“Do you think we’d be together if I hadn’t left?” Luke murmured after a few minutes. He had watched Chris rushing the child to the car with Clarisse clenching the keys in her fist. Chris refused to look back at Luke, and Clarisse staunchly looked away to avoid storming over to beat him up.

“I don’t know.” You were truthful, but it didn’t mean it didn’t feel like someone had shoved a fire spot rod into Luke’s stomach and churned his insides, “Maybe we would have been, but I made peace and laid that possibility to bed a while ago.”

You stood up from the porch and brushed off your pants, “There’s a cottage on the property in the forest you can crash in. Stay as long as you want. Chris and Clarisse built a house a mile further ahead.”

“Do you live here alone?” Luke asked, puzzled by the size of the house and the extensive land. It took him an hour to walk from the bus station in town to the house.

“No, I don’t. Besides the Rodriguez-La Rue family, I have taken in orphaned demigods.” You replied gently, opening the front door. Sometimes, this is the pause in the journey to one of the Camps. It was a team effort between the Hephaestus children, Vulcan’s children, some of Hecate’s children, and me to make this place as impenetrable as Camp Half-Blood.”

You left Luke on your porch, skillfully evading the disclosure of your relationship status. 

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[creativeashproductions]

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[creativeashproductions]

Shadows of Haven // Luke Castellan

IN WHICH: Reader's been a sleeper agent for Kronos longer than most campers have been at Camp Half-Blood. Patiently waiting for the last piece of the plan it's a pleasant surprise that that piece happens to be the boy who see reader as his haven.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hatred of the gods, dark!reader, manipulation vibes, Kronos mention, talk of death, and talk of betrayal.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader (nicknamed Haven)

Words: 1.1k

A/N: I binge-read all of the PJO books and the Heroes of Olympus books. And the idea of the reader being in cahoots with Kronos and nudging Luke to join Kronos has been festering in my brain since the last episode.

Masterlist

You’d known Camp Half-Blood longer than most of the campers. Call it cruel, but it was a mixture of having no mortal parent and also watching naive, wannabe heroes stupidly dying for the gods. You had no love for the spawns, how they were abandoned by their godly parent and spent their short, meaningless lives trying to make them proud.

It made you sick.

It made you sicker that one of those gods was sentenced to be camp director. Not only did you have to hear about the gods from the demigods, but you also had to breathe the same air as a god.

And you couldn’t speak openly about it with anyone at camp either. No one shared your disgust or your thirst for vengeance. To change things. You want glory, too. But you didn’t want the novelty glory these children wanted. The glory that came with the plan that had been brewing ever since you were found nestled in a bassinet on the stoop of a house that never became your home.

Your skin itched to leave the climate-controlled bubble of Camp Half-Blood and finally put the plan in motion. There was only so much talk of quests and playing Capture the Flag you could take. The plan finally started heating up when you saw the seeds of unrest, hatred, and wrath. It just made it so much better that it happened to be your boyfriend of two years.

The cold October wind bit through your thick jacket. Standing on the edge of the training grounds, your gaze was fixed on the scar marring the skin of Luke’s face. The jagged line was a fading colour from the once brilliant red it had been in July when Luke returned from the quest. 

You kept your voice low, watching Luke’s shoulder heaving from deep breaths, training with his sword. “Luke, I know you’re angry. I know you feel betrayed by the gods.”

The disgust in your tone twisted around the word god like it was a serpent coiling around itself. More apparent than ever, and took Luke by surprise. In the five years he’d known you and the two years he’d been dating you, he’d only ever gotten the feeling you were neutral to the gods.

Luke turned to stare at you, “What-“

“What if I told you there’s a way to make them pay? To make them kneel before humanity?” You spoke with such conviction that it was obvious this wasn’t something half-baked but a real, thought-out strategy.

Luke dropped his sword on the ground, preferring to clench his fists, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light of rage, “What are you suggest, Haven?”

You stepped up in his space, only peering around your surroundings before whispering into his ear, “Join us. Join Kronos. With your wrath, we could finally overthrow the gods and bring a new era. An era where we have real glory, and Kronos can rule as it should be.”

You used Kronos’ name with such familiarity it was like the Titan lord was merely a long-time friend. Luke’s expression of rage faded into a mixture of shock and disbelief. His sweet girlfriend, who played referee between campers and pleaded military neutrality, was in cahoots with the absolute worst Titan, yet Luke wasn’t entirely resistant to the idea.

“You’re serious?” Luke asked, shifting his brown irises between your orbs. Only determination lights up your pretty irises.

“More serious than I’ve ever been. Luke, together, we can change the world. No more being errand runners for a bunch of selfish assholes. No more being entertainment for a bunch of fuckheads pitting us against each. Discarding us when they get bored like death isn’t permanent for us. No more fighting monsters.”

Luke’s attention was caught by the idealist future: “We could have our own home? If we want, we could have a family who won’t have to be scared.”

The wistfulness in his tone made you hide the sadistic smile on your face in the crook of his neck. You knew you made the right choice. You barely had to do anything with all the rage bubbling under Luke’s skin.

As the sun faded beyond the forest, it cast long shadows over the training grounds, and Luke made his decision. He was tired of living a life the gods thought he owed them, tired of the games, the excuses, and the responsibility that bred maturity sooner than a teen should have had.

“Lead the way. I’m with you.” Luke firmly spoke, defiantly smiling, and that same sparkle appeared again in his eye.

“Whoa there, hero.” You breathed firmly, pressing his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. “This is more delicate and important than a five-minute planned prank you and your siblings like to do. It has been in the works far longer than either of us has been alive.”

Luke furrowed his brow, “Then what—“

“You’ll find out more. When he comes, don’t fight it. It’s worse if you do. No one can know about this plan, either, Luke. You’re an important piece, and when it comes to that time…well, we’ll need your role as the camp’s Golden Boy.”

Luke captured your lips in a deep kiss before pulling away, his determination written all over his features. “When do we start?”

“First, Kronos will come into your dreams. Call him lord. Two, we’ll need to get you a weapon that fits you better.” Your nose wrinkled up in distaste at the sword Luke had used since he was fifteen.

Hands intertwined, you led Luke away from the training grounds to the trail leading back to the cabins. You steered away from the main twelve cabins to the smaller one hidden behind Zeus’ and Hera’s cabins. Zeus demanded a cabin to be built, and its location made it obvious why, even if everyone who didn’t know the reason was an idiot. Zeus was a mama’s boy at his core, and he’d protect her. Why else would he allow a cabin behind his own?

Luke hesitated after he saw it in the distance because even he had never been inside. Rumours swirled camp why you had your own cabin, and no one could find out the truth, just like why absolutely no one knew who your mom was. Luke knew your mortal parent was a man because you mentioned you lived at camp. After all, he died years ago.

When your hand touched the doorknob, the cabin door opened, “Welcome to the cabin of Titaness Rhea.”

“Kro—“

“He’s my stepfather. And what better way to overthrow the gods than by using Rhea’s own child.” Luke’s lips parted to match the grin on your features. 

The cabin door slammed shut, sealing you and Luke away from the camp you would soon betray. Plans were in motion, and fuck that so-called Great Prophecy.

[creativeashproductions]

@/kristenadrianna deleted her blog. My best friend confirmed it since I was sure she blocked me after spamming the same ask to the thief 10+ times.

Stolen Work

Hello, in case people haven't seen it, there is a blog @/kristenadrianna that has been caught stealing from other blogs. Some people have been messaging users, giving them a heads-up. I'm going to list some creates in the Top Gun fandom, and hopefully, you can spread this post, make your own, report @/kristenadrianna and share with the people you're friends with.

@ereardon

@roosterforme

@rosiahills22

@its-the-pilot

@goldenseresinretriever

@callsign-dexter

@tip-top-cloud-surfer

@seresinsbrat

@sunlightmurdock

I'm pretty sure that someone posted about an upcoming the Notebook AU with Jake Seresin x OC.

The blog also features posts from the Descendants, Harry Potter, and Summer I Turned Pretty fandoms.

[creativeashproductions]

Stolen Work

THE BLOG HAS BEEN TAKEN DOWN

Hello, in case people haven't seen it, there is a blog @/kristenadrianna that has been caught stealing from other blogs. Some people have been messaging users, giving them a heads-up. I'm going to list some creates in the Top Gun fandom, and hopefully, you can spread this post, make your own, report @/kristenadrianna and share with the people you're friends with.

@ereardon

@roosterforme

@rosiahills22

@its-the-pilot

@goldenseresinretriever

@callsign-dexter

@tip-top-cloud-surfer

@seresinsbrat

@sunlightmurdock

I'm pretty sure that someone posted about an upcoming the Notebook AU with Jake Seresin x OC.

The blog also features posts from the Descendants, Harry Potter, and Summer I Turned Pretty fandoms.

[creativeashproductions]

This is the only thing bouncing in my head reading your post.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

Is this person okay because what in the ever loving Sigmund Freud’s Oedipus complex did I just read??

Why the fuck did I just see someone ship rooster and his mother? Like he grows up to be with her!? What the actual hell. I’m signing out 🤢

[creativeashproductions]

Piano Sessions: "White Leather" by Wolf Alice + Finnick Odair x reader, their relationship had just started when Quarter Quell happened and both sent to arena, when the rebels pull victors out she gets left behind but her tracker was taken out and the gamemakers can't find her in arena. so everyone assumes she's dead but she escapes. while she's on the run she thinks about the life she wants with Finnick (maybe she sees the propo he does and he says something about her death). as "star squad" makes their way through the capitol they are reunited.

☼ white leather (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, reader has an injury.

wc; 5.7k

prompt; Piano Sessions: songfic, white leather by wolf alice. not noticable.

--

The seasons are changing, the warmth is fleeting, and the loneliness is burrowing in your heart. While you were being roasted alive a few weeks ago due to the unrelenting heat, mother nature has since decided to be kind rather than cruel. With summer ending, it allows her to relax, iron fist loosening.

It’s perfect timing, too.

If you had to endure it for any longer, you think you would’ve stopped traveling, ultimately setting you back. It was different when you were in the arena, because you weren’t actively moving for the entire day, just in increments. Out here you have no choice, especially if you want to make it back.

The Capitol can’t be that much further. After walking in the trees of Panem for hours at a time for weeks, it has got to be around here somewhere. You know for certain that you’re heading in the right direction because you stumbled into District Nine by accident. 

You didn’t even realize you had, even though you crossed through a fence to get inside. In your defense, there’s a lot of sectioned off areas inside of the wilderness, with no apparent reason why. What should’ve given you a clue was the burnt wheat field, stretching as far as your eyes could see.

In the distance, you could make out buildings, something that also wasn’t too unusual, considering that when the districts were formed after the Dark Days, a lot of structures were abandoned. You’ve been hopping between them, actually. It’s dangerous, they’re falling apart, and there’s critters absolutely everywhere, but you don’t have much of an option. 

You’ve tried sleeping under the stars, it’s not at all comfortable. You get increasingly paranoid as the hours drag on, afraid of the wild animals coming across you. You’d be able to defend yourself, with the knife that you have from the Quarter Quell arena. In the case of a pack, you’d be screwed.

They’d tear you apart, and then you’d have to add on their damage to injuries you already have. The last thing you need right now is another infected wound. The one on your forearm is bad enough. It’s your own fault, you dug out the tracker prematurely, assuming that you’d be rescued out of the arena, because that was the plan. 

When Katniss short circuited the dome using the lightning, she unintentionally messed up the plan, putting the rebels on a time crunch. They were able to get her, Finnick and Beetee out of the arena, you believe. Which left you, Johanna and Peeta behind. And Enobaria, but she doesn’t really count.

You ran across your allies, tried to tell them that if they didn’t want to fall into Capitol hands, then they had to escape that minute. Johanna, who usually trusts your judgement, was resistant to the idea of escaping the dome. She didn’t like the idea of having to survive outside of it, not knowing where to go. She wanted to play it safe, and if that meant enduring whatever the Capitol had in store, then that’s what had to be done. 

You would’ve argued with her, possibly even convinced her, if the hovercraft hadn’t appeared above the three of you. They knew exactly where they were because of the trackers they still had. With you being set on not being captured, you ran, leaving them behind, while you got out of the dome.

They should’ve caught you. It was an open field for at least a mile, they easily could’ve seen you, shot you and scooped you up. You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life. Johanna and Peeta must’ve put up a fight, if it took them that long to grab them out.

You didn’t hear news for a long time, not until that farmer caught up with you in that wheat field. She was out of breath, face a bright red from running for so long, sweat running down from her temples. You paused, watching in slight amusement as she tried to catch her breath, clearly wanting a conversation.

“You… what are you… doing out here?” She gasped, a hand on her chest. “If the Peacekeepers catch you…”

At the mention of Peacekeepers, you were no longer smiling. “Where am I?”

Her face twisted. “Well, District Nine, of course.”

The burnt field clicked then, and you turned to look at it with new eyes. It also explained why the fence you climbed over was harder than the last few. Which then got your mind working, wondering if you’d been in District Nine the week before, because it was heavily barbed.

“My name is (Y/n).” You said, head shaking. “I don’t live here, I’m a victor from District Four.”

She squinted at you, unbelieving. She eyed your body, the clothes you were wearing, which is nothing but an undershirt, a pair of shorts and water boots. Not the typical clothing for a farmer out in the fields, you guessed. You came to the right conclusion, because her mouth opened.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” She told you. “How did you get out of the arena?”

“It fell apart. I simply climbed out.” 

She made a noise, as if the answer was too easy. “Where are you heading? District Four?”

“No, the Capitol. How far away am I?”

“Close, but you’re going in the wrong direction. You need to get to District Two, they cracked the Nut.” She pointed over your shoulder. “If you get to the rebel base, they’ll help you there.”

You nodded slowly. “They still have Peacekeepers here?”

“We’re too close, that’s why they haven’t retreated. They’ve up and abandoned the further districts. They wiped out District Twelve completely.”

You tilted your head. “Everyone’s dead?”

“They bombed it, seen it in the propos with Katniss Everdeen. Some of her people made it out, they’re in District Thirteen now. Not much left of ‘em.”

“Right.” You murmured. “Thank you for the help.”

“Wait, don’t you want me to look at that for you?” She motioned to where you’d cut out the tracker. “It looks nasty.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Well, good luck.” She said, “You better hurry and get out of here.”

“I will.”

She nodded, watching as you turned away, heading for District Two. From what you’ve gathered, you’re confident enough to say that the Quarter Quell arena was placed in the space between Districts Eight, Nine and Two. When you picture the map of Panem in your mind, it’s the area that makes the most sense.

A part of you wishes that you’d taken up her offer on cleaning out the cut. You have some herbal knowledge, which is what’s keeping it from killing you, but that has nothing on real medicine. This could’ve been healed days ago, and it likely wouldn’t have left a scar.

There’s also so many questions that come to mind since talking to her. Parts of the conversation that didn’t make sense to you. The biggest one being her telling you that you should be dead. Why? At the very least, the Capitol should know that you made it out alive. Especially if they did a sweep of the arena and didn’t come out with your body.

Unless they figured that you escaped and you’ve died out here somewhere, starving and alone. Which is the dumbest conclusion that they could possibly come to. With your track history, the bare minimum that you’ve lived off of your entire life, including your Games, they should know you’re a parasite that you can’t get rid of so easily.

If there’s one good thing that’s come out of fighting in the Hunger Games, it’s that you know how to survive. It would’ve been harder to do if you were rusty, but your time in the arena was a refresher, setting you up to live out here, which is not nearly as difficult. You don’t actively have other tributes hunting you down every waking second. 

If the Capitol really thinks that you’ve died, they have a surprise coming.

Your feet stutter a step when you realize what that means. It’s not just the Capitol, District Nine believes it too. There’s a good chance that they’re advertising it to the rest of the districts, then. You wouldn’t put it past them, they rub factors in your faces all the time, like District Thirteen. They led you to think that it’d been destroyed decades ago, when in reality, they came to an agreement that allowed Thirteen to slip out without the others noticing.

Oh, you hope that Finnick isn’t believing the same thing that girl did. You really hope that he wouldn’t take their word for it. But why wouldn’t he? District Thirteen didn’t have enough resources to rescue you all, and the Capitol was right there. Who’s to say that you didn’t die before they could get you out? Or that they didn’t kill you in captivity? Or that they’re secretly hiding you.

They could say anything they wanted about you, and he’d have no choice but to believe it because there’s no evidence proving otherwise.

You’ve been thinking about Finnick a lot lately out here while you walk, mostly your future. It was discussed briefly before the Quarter Quell, because the two of you had come to the agreement of volunteering for the Games. The conversation didn’t get very far after you started talking about the hypothetical rebellion if the arena did work out.

If you had it your way, you think you would’ve talked to him about what he wants to do after the rebellion, because you have so many ideas. Primarily, you’ll be able to travel, you won’t be held down by District Four. You and Finnick could spend months bouncing between districts, and come back home when you get tired of it.

For the first time in your lives, you’ll have freedom. You’ll be able to do anything you want with little to no limit. There will be no more Hunger Games, no more months of preparation with teenagers that have no choice. There won’t be any interruptions, something that held the two of you back for so long.

And you’re not talking about the Games being a burden, you mean the relationship you’ve been denying. You and Finnick have had unavoidable chemistry for years, but between district life and the Capitol, there was no room to explore until recently. And even that seems to have been a mistake, something that should’ve waited.

Except, neither of you could suppress the urges any longer. You were already sharing longing looks and gentle touches, there was no point in withholding the pleasures when you were already dipping into it. That’s why you made it official in April, four months after the announcement, three months before the reaping. 

There had been countless nights where you stayed up, dreaming of the day where you’d be able to be yourselves. Where the stars would align perfectly to allow you to become more than just friends. When it finally happened, you almost didn’t believe the words coming out of Finnick’s mouth.

It’s been difficult to take it slow with him, because you feel like you’ve been dating him this entire time, under the table. You might not have been physical with him, but the emotional aspect was there. In your mind, he was already yours. And he admitted to you that he felt the same, that you belonged to him years ago.

You remember shivering when he told you that, because you had a feeling that it was true. These were words that you thought you’d have to wait to hear come out of his mouth. He was eager to tell you these truths, like a weight being lifted off of his chest. Like he’d been planning the exact moment they’d slip out of his lips in a whisper.

When this is over—when the rebellion is done—you want Finnick to yourself. It’s what you deserve at the very least, after all that you’ve been through. If it’s up to you, you’d want him to propose once Panem has begun to relax. You don’t want the teasing, or more years of build up. You just want to make him officially yours, forever.

Whatever comes after doesn’t matter. As long as you can say that he’s your husband, and you’ve agreed to love each other eternally. You’ll take what’s thrown your way with grace. You won’t ask for anything ever again. You’ll be especially good, if you could get what you wanted for once.

You step through the treeline into a meadow, letting you get a clear view of what’s ahead. You take a few steps before you come to a stop, staring at the colorful buildings in the distance. While you had tried your best to stay on track for District Two, you eventually came to the conclusion that you’d rather go to the Capitol, like you’d originally planned.

It’s not that far now. If you keep going, you think you’ll make it there sometime tomorrow.

—

Four hours. That’s all the time it took for you to realize that the situation has majorly changed here. The further you travel into the Capitol, the more it grows increasingly obvious. Especially if they’ve turned to violence to keep people out.

It’s a ghost town, which is not what you expected. The streets are usually crowded, with no space on the pastel sidewalk, crawling with people dressed in bright color. You were sure that you’d get spotted in the first minute of stepping foot into the city. It turns out that you had nothing to worry about.

Well, that’s not necessarily true. While you were temporarily relieved to find out that the outer half of the Capitol had been evacuated, you were put back on alert when you figured out why. There are traps placed on almost every street, with exponential damage to the buildings around.

You’ve yet to figure out if it’s the Capitol trying to defend themselves, or the rebels ensuring that if citizens return, they’ll be met with resistance. If you had to guess, you’re leaning more toward the Capitol. The way the traps are placed are methodological—it’s a pattern you’ve seen before. It reminds you a lot of the Gamemakers.

The traps are nearly perfectly hidden, the triggers in plain sight. You fell victim to the first few, but once you started to really notice where they were and what they’d contain, it was so much easier to avoid them. Once in a while, you’ll find yourself trapped, where you have no choice but to set them off. In those cases, you duck and cover, hoping for the best.

With the sun setting, you think it’s about time you call it a night. The last thing you’d want is to miss a sign and get yourself seriously injured. Everything is easier in the daylight. Besides, you covered a lot of ground today, more than you thought you would. 

You stop in front of a lime green apartment building with front doors that are made out of frosted glass. You grab the handle, pulling it open to slip inside. The lobby is cool, reflecting the temperature on the outside. It’s very carefully decorated here, with tall green plants in white pots and a small loveseat with a side table. On top of it is a magazine, with Katniss and Peeta on the front cover.

You wander forward, looking at the directory to find a paper taped to the front of it, the words successfully evacuated printed across the middle in bold writing. You lift it up to see beneath it, curious to how many floors there are. There’s five of them, you’ll probably stay on the third floor to keep from going too high.

As you start up the steps, you keep a sharp ear and eye out for noises or cameras that might capture your appearance. Just because this part of the Capitol has been evacuated, doesn’t mean that they’ve surrendered control entirely. For all you know, there’s Peacekeeper bases around here, ready for the signal to round a rebel up.

When you reach the third floor, you choose the unit that’s located next to the fire escape that you step out of. The door is locked, of course. You hold out your knife, staring down at it. It’s dulled considerably because you’ve been using it for everything while you’ve been traveling. This will be its last job.

You stuff the blade into the keyhole, wiggling it from side to side. For a second, nothing happens, and then there’s a click. You twist the knob, pushing in, opening the door to reveal the expensive living room. You pull the knife out but leave the door open as you inspect the apartment from top to bottom. When you’re convinced there’s no one, you pick up a dining room chair, going back to the front door. You shut it, lock it as best as you can, and then shove the chair as stiffly as you can beneath the knob.

The first thing you do is raid the bedroom, tearing it apart for clothes that you’ll be able to wear without looking ridiculous. Once you have an outfit that makes sense, you shower, watching as all the built-up dirt and dried blood mixes in the water, creating a grainy substance at the bottom of the white shower.

You feel so much better when you step out, drying yourself off. You change, letting the bathroom air out while you go through every cabinet you can, searching for the medical supplies. They’re hidden when you do find them, but they’re top-grade, the type of medicine that you’d send to tributes in the arena to get them healed within days.

You read over the ointment’s directions, and then you slather it over the open wound in your arm. Your teeth are grit hard enough that you think you’ll break them, toes curling at the pain it’s causing. It burns as it works its magic, you toss the tube on the counter, leaving to go back to the living room.

The sun has fully set now, there’s barely any light coming through the windows. Still, you shut the curtains, blocking out the rest of it. You head to the kitchen next, digging through the pantry to find countless cans and boxed goods. You pull out a few familiar soups because you’re starving. After you’ve finally located a spoon, you go to sit on the living room floor in the dark to eat.

You could heat it up, you’re sure that it’d be better that way, but you don’t want to risk more than you have to. You open the can, dipping your spoon inside, and raising the creamy substance to your lips. As expected, it’s not very good when it’s cold. Yet, it could be worse.

You manage to get down half the can before an alarm cuts through the stillness, making you jump in surprise. Your hand wraps around the knife before the television set lights up on its own, and you’re immediately greeted with the face of Beetee Latier.

“This is a repeated broadcast from District Thirteen, a reminder of the faces we’ve lost to get here.” He says. “We Remember, do you?”

It cuts to Haymitch Abernathy, sitting in a dark room, wearing a grey jumpsuit. The background is an empty area. To an extent, he looks better than the last time you saw him. 

A feminine voice speaks from off-camera. “What do you remember about Cashmere and Gloss Ritchson, the brother and sister duo from District One?”

“They were a bright pair of mentors, even when they were teenagers.” Haymitch says, staring at the camera. “There was nothing the two of them couldn’t do, and it showed time and time again when they performed miracles outside of the arena. Cashmere had an undeniable dedication that was admired by everyone, and Gloss was very hardworking to ensure his tributes got the best possible. It’s a great loss we’ve suffered losing them to the Quarter Quell.”

You squint, eyebrows twitching. Is this a memorial piece? If so, it’s a little funny for someone like Haymitch to speak about Cashmere and Gloss, considering that they were never invited into the alliance. Or thought about twice, beyond the idea of them possibly killing Katniss or Peeta.

The screen fades to black slowly, before Haymitch comes up again. “Brutus, he won a couple years after I did. He was friendly to me after my Games, and had briefly tried to help me after the tragic loss of my family.” He pauses to sigh. “Even though we could never see eye to eye, that did not keep him from drinking with me on occasion.”

Beetee shows up in the next clip, in the same spot that Haymitch was on a stool, only he’s in a wheelchair. Something must’ve happened between the arena and now. You wonder if it has anything to do with the lightning tree.

“Wiress was very intuitive, incredibly intelligent.” He adjusts his glasses, shaking his head. “It may appear that we have lost no one at all, but with her absence, Panem will not function the same. She worked alongside me to create some of the more important Capitol devices, a factor they neglected to think about. We will miss her dearly.”

You finish the can of soup, and you’re pulling on the tab to open the next when his face shows up on screen. Finnick sits on the stool, eyes puffy and a little bloodshot, bags underneath from the lack of sleep. There’s a slouch in his posture, a small length of rope in his fingers that he fiddles with.

“Tell us about (Y/n) (L/n).” The female voice says.

Finnick swallows, voice quiet. “What isn’t there to say?” He asks, looking into the camera. “She was my best friend, and more than that, my girlfriend. She was the kindest person I’ve ever known, always so considerate and patient with everyone around her. How President Snow can take such a gentle life and then brag about it is a mystery.”

Your blood runs cold, suspicions confirmed. So, they have been broadcasting you as dead. They saw an opportunity and took it, wanting to make themselves look more ruthless. When in reality, they haven’t so much as touched you since you escaped.

“I love her and I miss her.” He says, tired eyes filling with tears. An overwhelming urge to reach through the screen to hold him seizes you. “If I had known my time with her would be cut short, I would’ve done everything to protect her.” He breathes shakily. “This is why we must stop the Hunger Games. For loved ones like (Y/n).”

Finnick is gone, once again replaced by Haymitch, who begins to speak about Mags, your mentor. For the first few seconds you stare at the screen, face slowly twisting before it hits you.

Mags is dead.

“What?” You murmur, sitting up.

“Mags was the first mentor to approach me after I won my Games.” Haymitch says. “She was a sweet woman that could see the pain and understood what I was going through. I was the first victor of District Twelve, she was the first face of the Hunger Games. And for as long as I let her, she helped me mentor.”

Of course she did. That’s who Mags is—was. If she saw someone that needed help, she was there. She even approached Johanna after her Games to give her some tips because Johanna was slowly sinking. 

“Mags did not deserve to die the way she did.” Haymitch says.

It moves on to the next victor, the woman from Five who was killed in the arena. You try to listen, but it’s difficult. You can feel yourself slowly getting sucked out of your body and into the open air. You’re here, but are you really?

The entirety of Panem thinks you’re dead, and as serious as the situation is—it’s a little funny. If this is the rerun, that means that they’ve been Finnick speak on your death dozens of times. There is not one person left in this country that believes otherwise.

But you’re not dead. You’re here, in one of the many luxurious Capitol apartments, eating someone else’s vegetable soup that they’ve saved. If you had gone to District Two like the girl from Nine told you to, this wouldn’t be the rumor.

For the remaining eight districts, the statements are brought from the victors that now reside in District Thirteen or some faces of previous Capitol citizens. Which you can tell by the way their skin is tinted or the tattoos that line their bodies. There’s even a part where a former Avox sits on the stool, signing while his brother translates.

It wraps up with Finnick talking about Rue and the future that was stolen from her. She was just an innocent child, and the Capitol thought it was right to force her to fight for her life with other older kids, who were much bigger and more skilled. When she should’ve been at home, with her family.

Beetee shows up at the end, hands in his lap. “We Remember.” 

The screen dies, but not completely. It glows faintly, illuminating the small area that you’re sitting in. You need to get out of here—out of the Capitol, at least. You should be with Finnick. He needs to know that you’re alive, because the idea of you being dead is killing him. After the two of you fought to be together, you’ve been ripped from his fingertips.

You don’t sleep tonight. 

You want to, with the couch being the comfiest thing you’ve laid down on in months. You know that the apartment is secured, you triple-checked everything. No one is coming to get you. This isn’t what keeps you up.

So, you relax in front of the television in the living room, eyelids feeling heavy the moment your head touches the pillow. When they shut, that’s when the problem rises. You’re not tired anymore, even after counting sheep for what feels like hours, your mind is still running.

By the time the sun is peeking through the curtains, you’re ready to leave the apartment with a packed bag. It has the essentials inside like food and water, and the ointment you’ll be using to heal your arm. You’ve grown too attached to the knife you had in the arena, so you find a way to sharpen it, giving you a reason to keep it.

The streets look the same way as they did yesterday, nothing has magically shifted. You head for the train tracks that’ll bring you to a tunnel that runs to District Two. It’s what the girl in Nine called the Nut. It serves several purposes, including training the new Peacekeepers underground, but it’s also the easiest path to get in and out of the Capitol.

While you should’ve gone to District Two straight away, you’re glad you didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t have known the whole story. You can’t imagine how overwhelming it could’ve been if you came across the rebels and they bombarded you about how you’re alive. 

You travel blindly through the streets, dodging and setting off traps, watching the chaos that follows. A few of them are made up of weapons that shoot out once triggered. You manage to react quickly most of the time, but you still come out with a few nicks from blades that are impossibly sharp.

Other traps are made up of insects that are abnormally colored and move in ways that they shouldn’t be capable of. When you see this, you decide that you’re right to say that they’re designed by the Capitol’s Gamemakers, because it makes no logical sense the other way around.

When it appears to be around lunch, you stop to eat in a shop with broken windows, stomach growling. There’s a nice aqua blue couch a few feet away from the door, void of the glass shards that litter the tile floor. You open a can of soup, and dig out a small pack of crackers to have with it. 

It’s still disgustingly cold, and yet it could be worse. After what you ate in the woods these last few weeks, anything is a good meal compared to that. Even the crackers seem like a treat.

You set the empty can on the floor when you finish, sitting back against the cushions, staring through the open window. A pair of black birds circle over a nearby alley for a minute. They’re the first sign of life that you’ve seen in this city since you got here, besides the mutts that come out of the traps.

They settle on the roof of a building, side by side, much like the birds at home when they land on power lines. You’re about to look away, when you watch as they both simultaneously tilt their heads, attention set on whatever is in the alley. Your face twists, confused.

As soon as they open their beaks, beginning to screech, you realize that they’re not birds, either. They look to be like jabberjays—a Capitol weapon. You get to your feet, swinging the bag strap over your shoulder. You don’t know how they can see you, because they are definitely not facing your direction. You shouldn’t be in their view.

You take a single step, before you freeze where you are, watching as a group of people dart out from the alleyway. They’re dressed in black, wearing combat gear and carrying weapons. You’re terrified, wondering how the Peacekeepers have found you, until you realize that they are not Peacekeepers. Peacekeepers wear white.

There’s almost a dozen of them, and their leader is pointing his finger down the street to your right, an area you haven’t explored yet. He barks out an order, one of the girls in the middle turns with a gun, shooting at the jabberjay. They flap their wings, rising from where they’re perched, flying around.

Rebels.

Your lips part, wanting to speak, but the words die in your throat. You’re not dressed like they are, you look like you belong in the Capitol because of the clothes you’re wearing. You’re even sitting in an abandoned boutique as if you’re not completely surrounded by danger.

It doesn’t matter, they’re gone before you can work up the courage to speak. You watch as one of the boys toward the end grabs another boy with blonde hair, pulling him along. Neither of them stick out in your mind, and then the first boy turns, looking over his shoulder, right at you.

It’s Finnick. It’s Finnick, and he’s pulling along Peeta. 

You move now, trying to follow him. You’re sure he’s seen you, but as you step out of the shop and in front of it, looking at where you’d been standing, you see that it’s too dark to make out much of anything. The awning above the street blocks any sunlight that might be able to get inside.

“Hey,” You call, walking after them. They’re moving too fast, trying to escape the birds, running around the corner. You begin to jog, not wanting to lose them in the maze of Capitol streets. 

Even as a team, they move remarkably fast. You’re barely catching Finnick’s bronze hair in glimpses each time they take a turn. They’re losing the birds, though. And even worse, you.

“Hey!” You shout, sprinting down the street. “Wait!”

It grows more narrow, crowded with decorations that citizens couldn’t pull inside before leaving. There’s many places to hide, too many buildings to duck into. You can’t see Finnick anymore, much less hear the stomping of their boots against the asphalt. 

When you’re breathing so hard that you’re sure you’re going to throw up your lunch, you slow down, coming to a stop in the middle of the walkway. Your face contorts, hands on your hand.

“Fuck.” You breathe, walking at a slow pace. “Finnick!”

You peer into the local stores, checking behind every bush. You know that eight people would never be able to hide around this area without splitting up. They could’ve gone anywhere.

“Finnick, please!” You stop in the middle of a crossroads, taking your time to look down what each road offers. “It’s me, it’s (Y/n)! I’m alive!” You struggle to breathe normally, whispering, “Please, I’m alive.”

When there’s no appearance, you sigh. The one chance you had, and now he’s gone.

“(Y/n)?” A faraway voice asks.

You turn instantly to face the person, finding Finnick standing at the end of a walkway. He’s not alone. In fact, he’s with the leader of the group, who’s clutching a large gun in his hands, wary. This doesn’t bother you.

“Finnick.” You say, starting toward him. “Oh my god.”

There’s a deep crease between his eyebrows, watching you come closer. “You’re—how are you here?”

You walk straight into his arms, letting him crush you against his body. You grip on tightly to his shoulder, face pressed into the space above the vest. He presses a kiss into your hair once, then twice, and again and again. When he’s had enough, he pulls away, grabbing your face to kiss your lips.

It’s gentle, loving, but quickly turns greedy as he refuses to let you go. And when he does, it’s not because he needs to breathe, it’s because his shoulders are shaking. His face is wet, eyes filled with tears. You bring his forehead to yours, thumbs wiping away the tears.

“It’s okay, Finnick.” You murmur.

“The Capitol said you were dead. They showed your body. How are you—?”

“I escaped out of the arena.” You tell him, stroking his hair. “I’ve been in the trees between the districts the whole time. I got here yesterday.”

He backs away, lips pressed together, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Of course you did.

You pout, shaking your head. “I cut the tracker out.” You show him your arm, which is looking better this afternoon, but still far from healed. “I’m not sure who’s body you saw, but it wasn’t mine.” You reach for his hands. “I am so, so sorry.”

He pulls you back into his body, hugging you. “You’re alive, (Y/n). That’s all that matters to me.” He frowns. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

-

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[creativeashproductions]

I’d be at the court house holding a bouquet of flowers immediately after seeing him with a baby

If December Never Ends | One-Shot

An early Christmas gift for y'all! Here's my entry for "Midnight Mass" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge! Kinda fell in love with these two, so let me know if you want to see more of them!

Summary: Bradley joins you and your family for midnight Mass.

Warnings: religious inaccuracies

Length: 2.3k words

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader

Christmas with your family was always a big event. Everyone came from all over to your parents’ house in Norfolk and spent the holiday together. Nearly forty-eight hours of uninterrupted family time. There was little sleep involved as there were people playing music and games all night long, so if you could find a quiet place to take a nap, you were lucky. 

That’s why you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you saw your boyfriend of eleven months, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, dozing in one of the plush chairs in your father’s study. Your three year old niece was tucked into his side while she drew in the princess coloring book you had gotten her, his arm wrapped protectively around her and a purple crayon dangling from his fingers. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture, the sight melting your heart. 

You knew the day had to have been overwhelming for Bradley. Hell, it was your family and it was overwhelming for you. Your two older brothers, their wives and children, your aunts and uncles from both sides and some of your cousins… twenty people, even in a house as large as your parents’, was nothing short of chaotic. You were shocked he even agreed to come, since he was used to spending the holidays alone on base.

Stepping into the room, the click of your heels on the wooden floor drew the attention of your niece Lyla, despite your attempts to be as quiet as possible. She waved with a smile, then put her chubby finger to her lips, a signal for you to be quiet. “Unka Roo sleepin’,” she whispered, before going back to coloring. 

“I see that,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to her unruly curls. “You like cuddling with your Uncle Roo?”

The little girl nodded, her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit as she focused on coloring. “He a warm blankie.”

She shifted, snuggling closer to him, and the slight movement was enough to rouse him, his muscled arm tightening around her as though she was going to fall. “You okay, doll?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open. 

You chose to remain silent, watching the heartwarming interaction. Seeing him with your niece lit a fire in your belly unlike anything you had ever felt, the thought of him with children of his own and what that would be like was impossible to ignore. 

“Mmhm!” Lyla nodded, holding up her picture for him to see. “All done!”

Bradley ran his free hand over his face and forced his eyes open further, looking at the presented coloring page. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he grinned, kissing her hair before looking up, finally noticing that you were in the room. “Hey, Tink.”

“Hey yourself, handsome. Have a good nap?” You asked, watching as he helped Lyla out of the chair when she started trying to get up, saying something about going to show her parents the picture she colored. 

Once she was out of the room, Bradley stretched his arms above his head, hoping to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. “Must have,” he said, sitting back and patting his knee for you to come join him. “How long was I out?”

You moved closer and sat on his lap, careful not to wrinkle his dark gray slacks too much. His matching jacket had been discarded on a chair across the room earlier in the night, leaving him wearing a white dress shirt that had the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his well muscled forearms. His arm wrapped around your waist effortlessly, his thumb brushing over the skin exposed by the open back of your green party dress. 

“An hour, at least,” you replied, moving your hand to the back of his neck, your nails running through the short hair there. You had been helping your mother and sister in laws clean up after dinner, so you didn't know for sure. 

Bradley nodded, leaning forward just enough to kiss your shoulder. “Lyla was getting a little cranky, I think there was too much going on with all the kids running around after dinner, so I brought her in here to relax. I hope that's okay.”

“More than okay,” you reassured him. “I'm sure Tim was thrilled for the break, Uncle Roo.”

His cheeks turned pink at the term of endearment. “I think she's used to calling everyone ‘uncle’,” he explained. It made sense, aside from her father and grandfather, every other adult man in her life was an uncle. “And she was having a hard time with Bradley, so I figured she could call me Rooster.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly before pulling back to meet his hazel eyes. “So long as you're okay with it. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I like it, actually. I've always wanted to be an uncle. Hard with no siblings though,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. 

Your left hand lifted to rest on his jaw, stroking over his stubble with your thumb. “My brothers might give you shit, but they love you, and you know my parents adore you. Lyla clearly prefers you to anyone else, and the other kids love when you roughhouse with them. I'd say you're pretty welcome in this family, Bradley.”

He nodded, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You’d always had a large family, so you couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be an orphan. He had told you the story before, his father died when he was a toddler, and his mother passed from cancer as a teen. He went to live with Maverick, his godfather, who betrayed his trust and prevented him from going to the Naval Academy. They hadn't spoken in years, leaving him with nothing but the Navy. 

Until he met you. 

To hear him tell it, your blind date set up on New Year’s Eve the previous year was a miracle in and of itself. You remembered it more based on the hangover you had the next day, so you took his word for it. 

Since then, though, despite a deployment and a couple missions, you were happy together. Nothing was perfect, of course, but you never expected it to be. 

You studied him carefully for a moment, and when he didn't reply, you rested your head against his shoulder, letting your hand slip from his jaw to rest against his chest, his heartbeat strong under your fingertips. “Bradley, I--”

The sound of your father’s booming voice interrupted you as he called for everyone to get ready for Mass. You knew Bradley wasn't religious, and you had told him he didn't have to participate, but it was a family tradition of yours to go to midnight Mass at the local church every Christmas.

“You should come with us, you might enjoy yourself,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to kiss him gently.

“I don't know anything about religion,” he pointed out, his arms holding you close as you perched on his lap. 

Shaking your head, you smiled and continued to run your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, soothing him. “That's the beauty of it, you don't have to.”

With a pat to his chest, you stood, holding your hand out to him. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, unsure, before he finally accepted your hand and stood himself. You took the liberty of buttoning his open button while he unrolled his sleeves, helping him into his suit jacket after he had done so. 

“You do clean up nicely, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you grinned, kissing him once more. 

“So do you, Tinkerbell,” he said, twirling you in a circle, making your skirt flare around your legs. He caught you in his arms before dipping you backward, drawing a giggle from you. “Should we go?”

You nodded as he stood you back on your own two feet, leading him out to the front hall where there was a bustle of energy as everyone put their coats on to brave the cold. Bradley helped you into your parka, making sure it was buttoned up before slipping his own heavy coat on. 

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled. “Ready to go?” he asked, motioning toward the door with a tip of his head. 

“I am.” You snuggled into his side and allowed him to lead you out to his Bronco that you had driven from Virginia Beach. Once you were both inside, he started the engine and followed the caravan of vehicles leaving your house for the church. 

Sacred Heart was the church you had attended with your family for as long as you could remember. You and your brothers had been confirmed there, and while none of you were particularly religious anymore, you still attended midnight Mass with your devout parents every year for Christmas. 

You usually sat in the back, since you were such a large group, and with small children it was easier to duck out if they got too loud and interrupted the service. This year was no different, with you and Bradley taking a seat in the last row with your brothers and their families. 

Almost as if on cue, as soon as the service started, Lyla started making a fuss. She hadn’t napped earlier in the day like your brother Tim had hoped she would, and now that it was midnight, she was beyond tired. Her older brother Brenden tried to calm her down, but it only caused her to get louder, trying to squirm out of her mother’s arms. Her efforts doubled when she saw you and Bradley sitting at the end of the pew, reaching out for him. 

“Unka Roo! Unka Rooooo!” she cried, tears falling down her pink cheeks as she got more frustrated. 

Bradley peeked around you to see Lyla distressed and frowned. Without hesitation, he stood and moved around the back of the pew, crouching down behind Tim and his wife, Sarah. “I can take her, maybe she’ll stop?” he whispered, smiling when he saw the three year old already calming some since he came over. 

They shared a look between each other and then looked back to Bradley. “Baby whisperer, huh?” Tim smirked, watching as his wife handed their daughter over to the aviator. “Good luck.”

Lyla quieted almost instantly once she was in Bradley’s arms, resting her head against his shoulder. You turned in your seat to smile at him, feeling like your heart was going to explode in your chest as you watched him pace the rear of the church with your niece in his arms. The only thing that pulled you from your reverie was your eldest brother, Tony, nudging your shoulder. 

“Oooh, you’re in trouble with that one, aren’t you?” he teased, taking the elbow to the ribs you delivered with a quiet grunt. “What? You’re looking at him like you want him to put a baby in you right here.”

“Tony!” you hissed, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 

Before you could say anything else, Bradley returned to his seat beside you, a soundly sleeping Lyla on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” he whispered, noticing the flush in your cheeks.

Tony leaned over you. “She just --” 

You covered his mouth and shoved him back toward his wife before shaking your head at Bradley. “Everything’s fine, my brother is just being a pig,” you explained quietly, turning your attention back to the service when your father shot you and your brother a look over his shoulder. 

The remainder of midnight Mass went without incident, and when the service was over, you waited for everyone to leave before heading outside yourself with Bradley by your side. Your family was gathered on the steps of the church, making conversation amongst themselves when Tim stepped in front of you. 

“Thanks for holding her, Bradley,” he smiled, managing to lift his daughter into his own arms without waking her. “She really likes you.”

He shrugged, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “She’s a cutie, that’s for sure. Thanks for trusting me with her.”

You snuggled against his side, smiling up at him. “Did you have a good night?” 

“I had a great night,” he promised, wrapping his arm around you. “I do have one thing that would make it better though.”

There was a curious look on your face when he pulled away, just enough to drop to one knee in front of you, his hand pulling a small box out of his pocket. You gasped, covering your mouth, unable to take your eyes off Bradley despite feeling your whole family staring at you.

“I love you so much,” he swallowed hard, opening the ring box to show a simple diamond ring that had belonged to his mother. “I want you to be my Tinkerbell forever. Will you marry me?”

A tear slid down your cheek as you nodded, offering him your hand. “Yes. God, yes, Bradley!”

Your family and a few other bystanders from the church all clapped as he slid the ring on your finger and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. As you parted, a light snow began to fall, dusting your cheeks with cool snowflakes. 

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you with the perfect timing.”

“I try,” he smirked, kissing you once again as your family headed off to their cars to go back home. “Let’s get back, we have Christmas and an engagement to celebrate.”

“It’s the best Christmas ever.”

[creativeashproductions]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 11

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, fluff, smut, swearing, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies, legal inaccuracies. No use of Y/N. Any opinions on NHL teams expressed by my characters are not my own and describe fictional versions of these teams.

Word Count:

A/N: D-Day Part 2 is upon us! Enjoy~

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

~~~~~

Salt sticks to your skin as you and Jake race across the sand. Pudding bounds along behind you and you chance a glance over your shoulder to see Jake gaining on you. You huff and push yourself faster, carefully dashing up the back porch and your hand is just about to curl around the door handle as Jake’s arms snake around your waist, yanking you back against him as you screech with laughter. “Caught you, Bunny.” He rasps into your ear, his lips brushing the skin there and making you shiver. He scoops you up and you squeal as your body shifts, your hands scrambling for purchase before coming to loop around his neck your bare shoulder brushing against the golden hairs of his chest between the open ends of his white button-down. He has one hand tightly around your middle and the other squeezes your ass teasingly before reaching to grab the door handle, carrying you across the threshold as Pudding follows behind, dancing at Jake’s ankles before making a beeline for her water bowl.

“Jake, we’re getting sand everywhere!” You chide, trying to listen to the voice of reason that’s fighting against every other part of you that wants to shove that damned shirt off his shoulders once and for all.

“Fuck it, that’s a tomorrow problem. I only have one problem I want to solve tonight.” Jake buries his face in your neck, peppering the salt-kissed skin with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, I’m a problem now, am I?” You gasp between scratches of his beard against your delicate skin. He raises his head to look at you before capturing your mouth with his and you hum at the feeling of his cheek against yours, tightening your arms to hold him closer.

“Bunny, you are my biggest problem.” He kisses one cheek. “And my biggest solution.” You shriek as his free hand comes up to tickle your side and you squirm in his grasp until he finally lets you down and you dash towards his bathroom. You glance behind you to see where he’s stalking after him, a playfully wolfish look in his eyes. “Bunny, Bunny, what am I going to do with you?” He drawls in that accent that sends delicious shivers down your spine.

“Well,” you draw out the word as you lean back against the closed door of his bedroom and he boxes you in, placing a hand on either side of your head. “First, you’re going to let me shower because I refuse to get sand in the bed.” You press a kiss to his nose. “Then, you’re going to make good on that promise of treating me like a goddess.” He chuckles as you press a fleeting kiss to his lips as your hands grip the door handle, twisting and watching him stumble as you push the door open and dash for his bathroom, slamming the door and twisting the lock before he can catch up to you.

You hear him trip over his own feet before he knocks on the door. “Bunny!” You giggle, taking the opportunity to strip out of the delicate little sundress you’d worn for your picnic dinner on the beach behind Jake’s house. It’s damp in places where the waves had sent sea spray up to kiss you. You shimmy out of your underclothes next, crossing the bathroom to turn on the shower. You hear Jake groan through the door at the sound of the water. You go back to the door, leaning your forehead against the wood, imagining he’s doing the same on the other side.

“Go shower, baby, I’ll see you soon.” He groans again before reminding you that he loves you and you hear his footsteps receding and the bedroom door close.

***

After making sure you’ve scrubbed every last persistent grain of sand that’d managed to take up residence in every nook and cranny of your body, you climb out of the shower, drying yourself off before you dip into the linen closet to retrieve the clothing you’d stashed in there this morning while Jake was making breakfast. First, you pull out the matching olive-colored lingerie set, examining yourself in the mirror as you bite your lips to hide the grin you’re wearing at the thought of Jake’s reaction. The lace leaves very little to the imagination and you giggle to yourself as you grab the last item of clothing, smiling to yourself as you run your fingers over Jake’s name on the back of the jersey as you pull it over your head. The jersey swallows you whole, the sleeves falling past the tips of your fingers and the hem brushes your thighs. It’s a far cry from the form-fitting set underneath, making you look a lot more cozy than sexy, but you know Jake’s going to love it. You swallow hard, steeling yourself as you reach for the door to the bedroom, adjusting your hair, nervously, as you swing the door open. Jake’s already sprawled across the bed, busy with something on his phone. He’s bare except for a pair of fitted black boxer briefs and you feel your breath catch at the sight of him. He looks up at the sound and you watch the look of awe cross his face.

“Bunny… Is that?” You grin at him shyly and nod, before spinning around to show him the back and gazing at him over your shoulder, biting your lip. “Fuck,” he groans and you watch his head tip back, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them to look back at you, eyes half-lidded. “Baby, you’re killing me.” You smirk before turning and heading towards the bed, climbing onto it, and approaching him, sitting back on your heels before him while he stares at you like he’s not sure you’re real. He reaches out to cup your cheek and you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “What did I do to deserve something as perfect as you?” He whispers reverently and your heart aches at the storm of emotions in his eyes as you reach up to cup his cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do anything, you always did.” You whisper back, pulling him close and this time when he kisses you it’s different. It’s hungry, your mouth parting instantly, his tongue sweeping in like a summer storm, twining with yours desperately, his hands shifting to your hips and he pulls you into his lap. You gasp as you feel the bulge of his growing erection press against your barely-clothed core and you rock against him instinctually, forcing a groan from him.

You whimper in response as his hands find the hem of the jersey, thumbs brushing the bare skin of your thighs silently asking for permission and you nod, not breaking the kiss as Jake’s hands grip the hem and pull it up your body slowly. Finally, you’re forced to part as he pulls the heap of fabric over your head and his breath catches yet again at the sight of the green lace against your skin.

“You see something you like, baby?” You tease and Jake growls, and suddenly you’re under him, gasping as he brings his good knee between your legs. You squirm, grinding down against it as Jake presses open-mouthed kisses to every available inch of bare skin along your jaw and neck. You gasp from the overwhelming sense of pleasure and then you feel Jake’s hands come up to cup your breasts over your bra and you arch into his touch, moans falling from your lips with abandon as his fingers stroke over the curves of your skin. “Jake, please,”

“Please what, Bunny?” You can feel his smirk against your neck and you whine.

“Need you, Jake, please, I need you.” You free one of your hands from where they’re clenching the sheets underneath you to tangle in his hair, pulling his head up to yours, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, desperacy in every action.

“I’m right here pretty girl, you’ve got me.” He shifts his knee up just as you grind down again and you gasp, crying out in pleasure at the sinful pressure to your core. Jake presses a soft kiss to your cheek before his hands drift to your back and you arch it for him as he shifts to undo the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts from the green lace. He helps you slide the fabric off your chest before latching his mouth on one of your nipples and you keen as he attends to the soft bud, nipping and teasing it with his tongue into a stiff peak while you squirm beneath him, tending to the other with his hand, pinching and rolling it before switching breasts. “So fucking beautiful, Bunny,” Jake growls, and you whimper, “made just for me.” Your lust-filled eyes meet his and the beautiful sea green has been swallowed by a black so deep that you shiver beneath him. You keep rolling your hips down against his knee as he absently shifts it against your clothed core. Jake lavishes your chest with his attention, whimpers and gasps escaping your mouth as you feel the rubber band of pleasure in your core begin to tighten.

“Jake, Jake please I need more, need you, please Jake!” Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him from your breasts to face the look of pure want and desperation on your face as you hump his knee shamelessly.

“You gonna come all over my knee, baby?” He asks, reaching up to stroke your cheek gently as you shake your head.

“Can’t. Jake, I need you!” His eyes soften and he squeezes your cheek.

“Alright, alright, I’ve got you, Bunny.” He shifts his knee away from your core and you whine at the loss until you watch him slide down your body until he’s face-to-face with the damp spot that graces the barely-there crotch of your panties. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the wet spot and you cry out for him. Then he hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties and eases them down your legs. You moan when he brings them to his lips, licking your arousal off the crotch and groaning at the taste. “I always knew you’d taste sweet, Bunny but you’re better than I could have imagined. You squirm, going to close your legs in embarrassment but Jake stops you with firm hands on the inside of your thighs, spreading them and holding you open for him as he gazes at your bare core. “So fucking wet, baby, is this all for me?” You nod, turning your head to bury it in the sheets that are saturated with his scent, your cheeks warm with nerves and excitement as you search for the comfort that fills your nostrils as Jake nips at the inside of your thigh and you yelp in surprise. “Need to hear you, Bunny.” You turn back to meet his dark eyes as you choke out the words.

“Yes, Jake, all for you!” He smiles, pleased with your answer, and then his broad tongue swipes across you, from bottom to top, ending on your clit, and your back arches away from the bed as you cry out in overwhelming pleasure. He dives in, then, his tongue drawing pleasure from your core that you didn’t even think was possible as he alternates between flicking, nipping, and sucking at your swollen bud as you wither beneath his touch. Then you feel him shift and then there’s a finger prodding at your entrance. You gasp as Jake eases a finger into your sopping core, your walls clenching around the digit and Jake groans against your clit, the vibration making you breathless.

“So fucking tight, Bunny.” He growls as he begins to pump the digit in and out of you, curling it, searching for that special spot.

“I-It’s been a while,” you admit as you adjust to the intrusion. Jake looks up at you then, eyes full of concern despite the lust that clouds them.

“How long, baby?”

“N-Not since college.” You look away as your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “There wasn’t really time to date, let alone fuck.”

“Hey,” Jake’s voice calls your eyes back to his and they're full of nothing but love as he gazes at you. “That’s okay, you know that right? We can take this as fast or as slow as you want. If you’re ever uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?” His thumb traces shapes on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and he leans in to press a light kiss to the area, not breaking eye contact with you as he does so, waiting for your confirmation. You nod and he gives you a look that says he needs to hear you say it so you do.

“I love you, Jake, and I trust you. More than I’ve trusted anyone before.” You reassure him and he has a wistful look on his face as he repeats the words between kisses that trail back to your core. With that, he resumes the movement of his fingers and lips and you descend back into a pool of pure pleasure as your hands find themselves tangled in his sweaty blonde locks, urging him closer. You gasp as Jake’s seeking finger finds its quarry and sparks explode behind your lowered eyelids. “Jake, there, right there!” He chuckles against your core and his finger finds the spot over and over with such precision that you feel the coil in your stomach tightening again. The combination of his tongue and his fingers, once he adds another, is overwhelming and you’re squirming all over the bed, held in place by Jake’s arm banding across your middle. Your legs are wrapped around his head, urging him closer, and finally, as Jake’s teeth scrape over your sensitive clit, your climax washes over you as you scream for him. He works through your peak as you sob in pleasure until you’re squirming away from him, overstimulated. His face is drenched in your release as he gazes up at you, his fingers lazily stretching you out as you recover from your orgasm.

“You okay, sweet girl?” You nod, basking in the post-orgasmic glow as he looks like you like he’s just cum himself. One glance at the painfully stretched material of his boxers tells you otherwise and you’re reaching for him before he shakes his head, sitting up and crawling over to his bedside table. You whine in complaint as he fishes out a condom, and when he’s back by your side, leaning over your prone form, you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and he kicks them off somewhere you can’t see. Not that you’re looking, because your eyes are locked on his cock where it’s standing at attention against his stomach. It’s beautiful and you reach a shy hand out to wrap around the velvet skin and Jake lets out a groan of pleasure. You give it an experimental stroke and Jake’s hand shoots to your wrist, halting your movements. “Baby, if you keep that up, I’m going to finish before we even get a chance to start.” Your cheeks warm at his brutal honesty but you retract your hand nonetheless as Jake rolls the condom down his impressive length. You swallow nervously. There’s no way he’s going to fit in you, but he doesn’t seem too concerned until he looks up to see the tentative pinch of your brows as you stare at him unabashedly. “Everything okay, Bunny?”

“Jake, there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me.” The words fall out before you can think to stop them and Jake chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little mind about that, Bunny, I’m gonna take care of you. You trust me, right?”

With those words, your anxiety evaporates, because he’s right. You trust him. If he says he’s going to take care of you, you have nothing to fear. “I trust you, Jake. Always.” With that, you feel Jake’s tip brush against you and he reaches down to use your slick to coat his length before returning the tip to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow, Bunny, you tell me when you’re ready for more, okay?” You nod against his forehead that’s pressed against you. He presses forward and you feel the tip slide past your entrance. His cock is so much bigger than his fingers could have prepared you for and your hands fly up to grip his shoulders as you tense up. “Hey Bunny, you need to relax for me baby, just let go, it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” He snakes a hand down to rub circles into your clit and you feel your body relax into his touch. “There we go, such a good girl for me.” He kisses your temple as he pushes deeper into you.

The combination of his sweet words and his fingers eases the rest of the process and soon he’s seated fully inside you and you’re whining for him to move. Jake begins to thrust slowly and you’re clawing at his shoulders at the feeling of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You feel so full and the drag of him is downright sinful. You’re crying for him to move faster and he complies, the bedroom filling with a beautiful symphony of your voices and bodies. His pace is simultaneously steady and rough, his hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in as you sing for him. You feel the pressure in your core building up again when Jake’s body stutters and he falters, almost collapsing on top of you and you grasp at his arms, doing your best to steady him as he lets out an uncomfortable grunt. It’s then that you notice that he’s got all his weight on his good leg, doing his best to fuck you without doing any damage to his injured knee and your heart aches for him. His forehead is pressed to your shoulder as he struggles to catch his breath. You sink your hands into his sandy hair, stroking it gently. “Jake, Jake are you okay?” He grunts and you gently push at his chest. He looks up at you as you take the opportunity to flip the two of you over, arranging Jake on his back so his legs can get some respite before you crawl into his lap, leaning down to capture his lips with yours. You can feel the gratitude he’s conveying with his lips and reach down to guide his length between your legs and when you straighten, you feel the tip slip back into you. Jake hisses beneath you and you caress his cheek. “Let me take care of you now, baby.” He looks at you like you hang the moon and the stars as you sink down onto his length, moaning sinfully at the new angle. It feels like he’s splitting you apart and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him filling you. Then you give an experimental roll of your hips and Jake is gasping in pleasure beneath you. You shift to raise your hips, feeling him slide out of you before you drop back down, slowly building a rhythm as you ride him slowly. The angle is delicious and you adjust yourself, struggling to get Jake’s cock to hit where you need him. Regardless, your clit brushes against his hair with each pass of your hips and you’re slowly building back up to your orgasm. You see Jake watching you as you bounce on his cock, his face a picture of pleasure and awe. Your thighs burn from the strain but you push past it, thinking about how he had done the same for the sake of your pleasure. You feel the coil in your belly disappear as your muscles burn from the strain of riding Jake but judging from the look on his face, it’s worth it. That is until your body catches up with you and you lose your balance, tumbling toward Jake’s chest. His firm hands wrap around your waist, steadying you before you faceplant into his tits.

“Easy, Bunny, I’ve got you.” His voice is low and raspy with need but you can hear the concern in it all the same. Even now, so close to his orgasm, he’s checking in on you. “You okay?” You’re shaken up and your thighs still burn. You’re not sure you’ll be able to help Jake finish and you hate the twinge of insecurity that lingers in your heart even as you nod. You lean forward to press your hands against his chest for balance, the angle changing and Jake ruts up against you, involuntarily and you gasp at the feeling. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he keeps his firm hands on your hips before planting the foot of his good leg on the bed, as he fucks up into you. Even though you keep your exhaustion from him, he knows. His hands guide your hips up and down his cock, taking the lead, one thumb reaching to rub at your clit, wanting to ensure that you’re feeling good too. Finally one of his thrusts finds the spot you’d been searching for and you cry out in pleasure, alerting him to his discovery. He shifts his hands slightly, holding your hips in place as he doubles down on that spot, chasing your pleasure and his orgasm in tandem. You’re gasping and shaking above him, your breasts bouncing with every thrust and then you feel Jake twitch inside you and he throws his head back against the bed, his thrusts turning sloppy as he finds his end. His fingers dutifully rub tight circles into your nub even as he rides out the wave of his own pleasure and then you’re following him over the peak, your body going boneless and he eases you down to collapse against his chest. The two of you bask in the afterglow, your sweaty skin presses against each other as your chests heave and you catch your breath. “I love you so much, sweet girl,” Jake murmurs into your hair and you gaze up at him with a sated smile.

“I love you more.”

***

Monday morning goes smoothly enough. You get to sleep in a little since you don’t have to worry about driving to Jake’s to pick him up. Javy dropped the now-repaired truck off before he left for Cabo, so everything’s ready to roll. Jake makes pancakes and you can’t help but be reminded of your first day at his house. The two of you make it to the arena without any fuss and you’re in your office attempting to catch up with all the work you’re not behind on while Maverick and Dare meet with Jake to discuss strategies and training he’s been missing. It’s easy enough to pretend that nothing’s changed between you and Jake when you’re separated but you’re worried about what will happen once you’re forced into professional proximity. Now that you’ve had a taste of Jake, you don’t want to let him go, and after two weeks of living with him, you’re used to spending almost all your time with at least some part of him touching you, so you feel the loss physically as you’re alone in your office. You’re not alone for long, though, as a knock sounds at your door and you call out for them to come in. It doesn’t sound like Cyclone’s sharp rapping that makes you jump in your chair but you can’t be sure until Javy enters your office. “Javy, hey, what can I do for you?” He has a guarded look on his face and you can’t help the uneasiness that eats at your stomach. You gesture for him to sit across from you but he stays standing, dark forearms folded across his chest.

“We need to talk, Bugs.” You swallow. You know Javy’s not your biggest fan right now. He’s mad at Jake for not telling him about the two of you. In Jake’s defense, there hadn’t really been a two of you until after Javy found out but things were already tense between the two of them before that. “Of course Javy, what’s on your mind?”

“Look Bugs, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Jake’s injury, I really do, but I have to ask what you think you’re doing with him outside of work.” Your heart stops. He wants to talk about this here? Now? Jake’s words come back to you and you take a deep breath. If you go, I go. Javy’s his best friend, and just like when he approached you on your first day, he just wants what’s best for Jake, and right now you’re the furthest possible thing from that.

“Javy, I know it doesn’t look good, believe me, I know that. I also know it goes against every oath I’ve taken and contract I’ve signed.” Javy nods, his face giving away nothing. “I never intended to fall for Jake.” Your voice trembles slightly with emotion but you can’t let him break your confidence because you’re sure about Jake. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be doing this. “I know what’s at stake for both of us if the wrong people find out about this and I never want Jake to get hurt. You have to know that. I did everything I could to keep things professional between us, but it happened anyway.” You shake your head. “I love him, Javy. And I’ve never said that about a guy before. It’s not just passing infatuation, it’s not just me throwing myself at him because of what he does for a living, I genuinely really love him.” You put your head in your hands, taking a shaking breath. “I love him so much that it scares the life out of me, Javy, and I don’t know what else to do.” It comes out as a whisper but you hear Javy’s breath catch so you know he hears it.

“Jake said that there’s no way you’d hurt him because you’ve been hurt before.” You stiffen at his words. “He said it wasn’t his place to tell me more than that so I’m asking you, what’s he talking about?” You sigh. It was only a matter of time until more people found out the truth about how you came to be working with the Dogfighters and you’d rather them hear it from you. So you motion to the chair across from you and this time Javy sits, and you tell him your story.

When you finish, the ice in his eyes has thawed and what you see isn’t pity but guilt. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Bugs.” You give him a rueful smile before you shrug.

“It got me here, and I have a chance to actually make a difference here, so it wasn’t all for naught. I wouldn’t have met any of you, including Jake and he could still be suffering.” Your voice breaks at the thought and you swallow, trying to control your emotions. Javy gets up and crosses around to the other side of your desk and you let him hug you.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” He says, pulling away to lean on the edge of your desk as you nod.

“It’s not your fault Javy, I think we both know that this industry isn’t immune to abuses of power imbalances. But I promise you, I’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt Jake.”

“I know that now. And if Jake trusts you, I think I should too. Hell, even Zam’s on your side and she’s wound so tight I think she’s going to explode one of these days.”

“Well, you don’t exactly make it easy for her.” You arch a knowing eyebrow at him and he groans.

“Okay, don’t you start.” You shrug.

“Just a piece of friendly advice, Javy. Your PR rep is the last person you want to piss off. She can very easily let your whole life go to hell even if that’s not her job.”

“I think I can handle her.” He says with a smirk as he pushes off your desk and heads towards the door to your office. You shake your head, smiling at him.

“I don’t think anyone can handle her, Javy. Not really.” He laughs as he waves, leaving you alone with your paperwork once again.

***

Your first week back is a success in staying low-key. Jake spends any free time he has at work making sure to get as much bonding as he can in with the other guys, trying his best to keep up his role as captain even when he can’t be on the ice. He’s making great progress with his leg now that you once again have full access to the physical therapy facilities. You’ve been meeting with Hondo, the Dogfighter’s athletic trainer to start developing a regiment that’ll have Jake back on the ice in time for the first game of the season. Maverick and Dare have agreed to have Jake sit out of the preseason games next week to give him additional time to rest and recover. There are three weeks until the season officially starts and you’re in the home stretch. You’ve unofficially moved in with Jake after you made an attempt to go back to living at your apartment until Jake made a convincing argument that you should just stay with him until he’s completely back up and running. Admittedly, it didn’t take much convincing on his part. You’re happy with him, living in his house, and sleeping in his bed. Everything’s perfect.

That’s probably how you find yourself seated on your desk, the papers you’d been reading splayed out beneath you as Jake’s tongue explores your mouth lazily. He’d come in to drop off the lunch he’d bought for you when he and Javy went out for burgers at the place around the block, but that had been abandoned after Jake pointed out how “delicious you looked in your scrubs.” The fact that you’re at work and that there’s no lock on your door has been temporarily forgotten in your passion. Jake’s fingers have dipped under the hem of your top, stroking the soft skin of your belly as his tongue mirrors the movement in your mouth. And that’s how Cyclone finds you when he walks into your office without knocking for once. Later you’ll wonder if he actually did knock and the two of you were so wrapped up in each other to notice but regardless, the jig is up.

“SERESIN. BUGS. MY OFFICE. NOW.” The two of you jump apart and you’re met with cold, icy green eyes that don’t hold an ounce of empathy or forgiveness in them.

~~~~~

A/N: So, how about that cliffhanger…

[creativeashproductions]

If I was her I’d make two different baby books. One for cute things that you show your family and keep for the baby when they’re older.

The other? My heartbroken self would make one that’s more petty. Like a picture of when the kid breaks a bone and the blurb is “the day you weren’t there to hold her hand when she needed it”

A photo of daughter sleeping in a pillow Fort after a particular loud storm with the blurb “she’s terrified of storms. This one was bad. She cried out for me. She never cried for you because her daddy is a man whose chose her as his own”

And an empty slot near the end with the blurb “this is her graduation that we all know will be just her and me”

Actually I might use this idea of two baby books for a fic later 🥴

My Daughter, My Heart Pt. 1

Summary: Jake gets his papers and instead of talking it out with his long-term girlfriend he does something that is beyond repairable.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Ex-Girlfriend (OC: Elizabeth Taylor), Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, heartbreak

Masterlist

My Daughter, My Heart

Prolog Part 1

The alarm on Jake's phone is what woke him up. He was quick to wake up and turn it off and when he did so he looked over at his girlfriend of 5 years and smiled at her sleeping form. He loved her he really did but the thought of him getting deployed and him having to break her heart when he didn't come back broke him even though he didn't let anyone see it. Breaking out of his thoughts he slowly got up and looked at the time and the clock read 5:30 AM he sighed and got up and started getting ready for the day.

Once a shower was done and everything to do in the bathroom was done he was heading to the kitchen. Jake started the coffee to get it going for both him and Elizabeth as the coffee was going he went outside to the mailbox. Most of the time he would get in a morning run but decided against it he could do it after work. As he was walking down the driveway their neighbor Mrs. Allen was out walking her dog. "Hi, Jake!" She said excitedly and Jake smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Allen. Early start of your day I see." He said as he was opening the mailbox and grabbing the mail.

"Yes! I'm going to be out for most of the day and need to get the energy going." She said and he smiled and nodded. Jake was dressed in his Navy ABUs. He would get changed into his flight suit once he got there.

"I understand that. Well, it's been nice talking to you!" Jake said as he waved to her with the mail in his hand.

"You too, Jake! I'll see you around." She said and he smiled and nodded and headed up the house. When he got in there he heard the shower running and he smiled because that meant that Elizabeth was up and getting ready for the day.

As Jake was looking through the mail he found nothing too exciting than one piece stuck out to him it was labeled with the Navy's official stamp and his name sprawled across it. He put down the rest of the mail and opened that piece. They were sending him on a 1-year long deployment and his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw that they were sending him Saturday night, tomorrow night. He truly did love deployments but that also meant a chance of him not coming home. When he heard the patter of feet coming down the stairs he quickly put the letter away with his work stuff and smiled when Elizabeth came into the room. "Good morning." She said with a smile and he smiled back.

"Good morning." He replied and kissed her as she walked up to him. He handed her coffee and she began going through the mail. Seeing nothing interesting or immediate attention she pushed it to the side. "I'm gonna be late tonight." Jake said to her and she nodded.

"That's ok. I'm gonna have to stay late to finish up some grading and paperwork." Elizabeth said and he nodded. He had already made up his mind that on his lunch break, he would come and get his stuff. He didn't have much there considering that it was her place and he had already bought a place before he met her so it was still considered very new and he was letting Javy, his friend from The Naval Academy, stay there. He was in his mind thinking of everything and wasn't paying attention until she had said his name. "Jake?" Elizabeth asked and he looked up.

"Hmmm?" He asked

"Did you hear me?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No sorry I have a lot of my mind." He said and she frowned.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No. I got to get to work. I love you." He said and kissed her hard and extra long then he headed out the door, leaving a confused Elizabeth. He didn't even give her a chance to say she loved him back.

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Jake got to the base in record time and through the gate without any trouble. As soon as he parked another car pulled in next to him and he recognized it as Javy’s. They both got out at the same time. "Did you get the orders?" Javy and Jake nodded.

"Yup. Sure did. You?" Jake said as they walked into their building and to the office that they shared.

"Yea I did, I leave the say after you. Have you told Elizabeth?" Javy asked. He was fond of Elizabeth and considered her a friend.

"No. I don't want to. I'm thinking of ending things with her." Jake said and it pained him to say that.

"What? Why?" Javy asked looking at him shocked.

"This is the longest deployment I'm going to be on. All the others were short. I don't want to break her heart when I don't come home. So I'm gonna go at lunch and move out and back to the house." He said and finally looked up at his friend who was looking at him like he had two heads.

"Jake. That's absurd, even for you." Javy said and Jake hung his head.

"I know but it has to be done. I don't have much there." He said and Javy sighed and gave up trying to convince him to do the opposite of what he's going to do.

"Fine. I'm not happy with your decision but I'll help you." Javy said and Jake nodded.

"We'll go at lunch." Jake said

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After the weird goodbye, Elizabeth got ready for the day. Jake's behavior still running through her mind. She didn't know what to think about it and tried not to think about it. She and Jake had met through Javy and it was an instant connection. As she was putting her makeup on for the day so made a mental note to text Jake. As she was walking down the steps she decided to go ahead and text him.

I don't know what happened this morning but I love you and hope you have a good day.

She hit send and waited for a reply, which usually happened fairly soon after the first text. As she waited so got nothing and that made her heart drop. She decided to push it behind her and get along with her day. Elizabeth worked on base at the school. She was the middle school history teacher and she loved her job.

When she was done inside she headed out to her car and started her journey to the base. She wasn't in the Navy but a civilian working on a Navy base. When she got to the school she parked and walked in. Soon her students would start piling in. She tried to call Jake hoping he wasn't up in the air. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number after 3 rings it went to voice-mail.

You've reached Jake Seresin. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Hey Jake, it's me. I'm not going to be able to do lunch today. I'm just not feeling all that great. I hope you have a good day and I love you.

Elizabeth frowned as she finished her message this was not like Jake. She didn't have to think long because a turning in her gut had her rushing out of her classroom and to a nearby bathroom. She barely made it into the stall before she was throwing up. This had been going on for about a week, she thought it was just a stomach bug that she had caught from her students so she let it go. She didn't tell Jake because she didn't want to burden him. When she was done throwing up she went back to her classroom just as soon as the students started to come in. She sighed and started her day.

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When lunchtime came around for Jake and Javy both men went and got into Jake’s truck and went to the house. Before they left the building Jake saw that he had some messages from Elizabeth but decided to ignore them. When he listened to the voice-mail he thought maybe what he was doing was out of line and he should back out, but those thoughts came back and he decided to move along with his plan. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Javy asked and Jake nodded.

"I'm sure." He said as they pulled out of the base and drove the short amount of time to the house. When they got there and parked in the driveway and headed inside everything was the same as they had left it. Jake sighed standing in the kitchen looking around but got a move on, if he wanted to do this he needed to do it now.

"You're 100% sure?" Javy asked one more time looking around the house that he had been to so many times.

"Yes, Javy. I'm 100% committed to this decision." Jake said with a slight annoyance even though he was thinking about having second thoughts.

"Ok man. Just making sure." Javy said as he followed Jake to the bedroom. Everything was still the same. Jake went to the closet and pulled out two duffle bags and sat them on the bed and began to put his belongings in them. It was silent as the two men worked with the occasional question from Javy about something.

All of the clothes and bathroom items were cleaned out and packed they headed to the front of the house. Jake had decided to leave the TV, couches, and most of the appliances there for her since he was going to be deployed and wouldn't need them. He grabbed his computer, charges, extra phone charges, and odds and ends that were lying around. "I think that's everything." Jake said while doing a look around one more time.

"I don't think this is right. She loves you, man." Javy said and Jake sighed and hung his head. He knew it was wrong but to him, it had to be done.

"I know. I just don't want to break her heart when I don't come home." Jake said and Javy nodded as they picked the stuff up and headed to Jake’s truck and put everything in the backseat. Jake had left his keys sitting on the counter along with the garage door remote. He still had time if he wanted to back out but he pushed those feelings behind and walked out the door for the last time.

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When the school had let out for the day Elizabeth stayed back and worked on some work like she would. She sighed and smiled a little to herself thankful it was Friday but also for the little child growing in her. During her lunch hour, she had run up to the store and bought a couple of pregnancy tests and took them when she got back to the school, and after waiting 5 minutes they both showed positive. She and Jake weren't actively trying but they sure weren't doing anything to avoid it.

When she finished up what she needed she packed her stuff up and headed to her car. She said her goodbyes to her friends and colleagues who had stayed late as well. She had been too busy to text or call Jake so she sent him a message. When she got her phone out she frowned at the lack of notifications.

Hey! Finally done for the day! I'm heading home! I can't wait to see you! I have some news!

She waited a good amount of time, more like the amount of time for her to get her stuff packed in her car before she looked at her phone again. Nothing. She was getting nervous and her stomach was in knots, she was worried.

All she could think about while driving home from work was that something bad happened to him. She loved him with all of her heart and would love to get married and have a family with him. She exited the base with ease and started her journey home. The time seemed to drag by especially since she wanted to get home.

When she got home his truck was not in the driveway and when she opened the garage it wasn't in there either. She felt like she could vomit right then and there. She turned off her car and headed inside.

When she got inside something felt off and when she noticed his phone charger missing from the counter she frowned. 'Maybe he came home at lunch to grab it', she thought which made her nerves ease up. As she was going through the house she was starting to get nervous again. Everything of his was mostly gone. She wasn't going to let it get to her just yet but when she got into the bedroom and saw the drawers open and the closet empty of his stuff tears welled up in her eyes. "This can't be happening." She said aloud to herself. She stood there in front of their now her bed and she felt sick, she rushed to the bathroom and vomited. When she was done she rinsed her mouth out and then noticed his toothbrush, cologne, and other bathroom necessities gone and that's when tears leaked out for the first time. "Fuck, this can't be happening. Not now!" She yelled out and ran to the living room to find extra shoes by the front door and his extra jackets gone. She stumbled to the couch sat down and called the only person she knew who would answer. Javy. It rang twice before he answered.

"Hello?" He answered while sitting in his and Jake's office while Jake was doing last-minute training and adjustments.

"Javy. Can you come over?" She asked

"Give me 10 minutes." Javy said and she sobbed out.

"Thank you." She said and they hung up.

She sat there for 10 minutes sobbing as she heard Javy’s car pull up. She rushed out of the house and crashed into his arms. "Everything ok?" He asked even though he knew what she had found.

"Everything of his is gone." She chocked out.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he ushered her inside.

"Everything that he owned." She said as they sat down on the couch "Nothing is here. He hasn't been answering my texts or calls. Do you think he found someone else?" She asked looking up at him with tear streaks down her face.

"No, I don't think he would do that. He loves you too much." Javy said bringing her in for a hug and silently cursing him out.

"I need him, Javy. I need him because I can't raise this baby on my own." She said and that shocked him into silence.

"Say that again." He said knowing he heard her correctly.

"I'm pregnant." She said looking up at him.

"Does he know?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, I was gonna tell him tonight. I found out this afternoon. Please don’t tell him." She said and he brought her into a hug again.

"Everything is gonna be ok. I promise. I won't tell him." Javy said as he held his friend until her crying had turned to hiccups and her breath evened out. He held her there cursing Jake. He took his phone out and opened Jake's contact and hit text message.

I'm with Liz. You fucked up, man. Big time.

He hit send and got comfortable.

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Jake had just gotten into the locker room and was changing when his phone went off. He grabbed his phone and saw a message from Javy and his heart dropped. He never wanted to hurt her just protect her. Maybe he took it too far.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@persesphonestears

@grandstrangerphantom

[creativeashproductions]

Please have Cat and BG at some point go “we need to schedule a play date soon” and it cuts to Jake, Rooster and Jeremiah playing chase in the parking lot 🤣

Always Ever Only You Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you manage to keep your spirits high through a rough patch, Bradley is as supportive of your needs as ever. He's working hard to take care of you in every way, and when he comes home with some unexpected paperwork, it's your turn to be supportive of him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"It's funny to me that you think you're being coy right now," Bradley told Jake in the locker room. He was avoiding answering questions about his dates with Cat. Bradley knew for a fact that they went on at least two, because that's what you had told him. And he assumed that Jake or Cat had given you that information directly. 

"Some things are sacred, Bradshaw," he said as he applied his deodorant while Bradley dried his hair with his towel and started to get dressed. 

But you had also informed Bradley that the two of them had agreed to take it a little slow now, especially since Cat and Jeremiah were living with her Uncle Bernie. So as Bradley pulled on his underwear, he knew just what to say to bait Jake. "You fuck her yet?" he asked casually, barely able to keep a straight face. 

Jake rounded on him immediately, green eyes furious. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he hissed. "First of all, it's none of your business, but no. Second, you don't have to be so fucking crude about it, man. And third, I never asked you that when you were following Angel around the Hard Deck and all over base like a lost puppy."

Bradley erupted in laughter as he reached into his locker for his undershirt. "Chill, Hangman. I just wanted to see how serious you are. And furthermore, this is the first time you haven't been crude in your life. And further furthermore, you absolutely did ask me if I nailed my wife way back then, because you were mad she turned you down."

Jake stared off into space with his brow creased. "Huh. Well I am serious about Cat. And Jeremiah. But Hondo still gets a little riled up whenever he sees me. Been avoiding him on the tarmac like my life depends on it. And if I ever asked you for any sort of details about Angel, I deeply regret doing so now. Please, keep that shit to yourself."

"Happily," Bradley replied, thinking about your ass in your khaki pants and smiling. When he headed out to the parking garage, Jake walked with him. And when he got to his Bronco, he realized Jake had parked near him. And Cat was waiting for Jake, leaning against the passenger side door, looking at her phone. 

When she glanced up, she smiled and said, "Jake," with longing in her voice. And then she realized Bradley was there, too and straightened her posture like she was standing at attention. "Hi, Bradley."

Oh, they were both making it way too easy to fuck with them. Bradley grinned as he abandoned his Bronco for Jake's car instead. "How's it going? How's my little buddy, Jeremiah?"

She smiled a little cautiously. "He's great. Obsessed with dogs now from playing at your house."

"Yeah, well he's welcome any time," Bradley said, leaning against Jake's car. "Tramp loves licking crumbs off him. Actually Jake was just telling me all about your dates."

"Was he?" she asked quietly, and Bradley thought she looked pleased. Jake was glowering at him from the other side of the car, and Bradley caught sight of a car seat in the back.

"Oh yeah," Bradley said with a nod. "Jake only looks like an ass, but he's actually okay." Cat snorted, and Jake glowered harder. "Are you guys going to go pick Jeremiah up now?"

"Yeah," Jake said loudly. "Better get a move on."

But Cat just looked up at Bradley and said, "I'm trying to get him in the daycare program on base here, but I'm on a wait list. And the facility he's in now is across town, and it's really not that great. But it's affordable," she said with a bit of a shrug. 

Bradley nodded, giving up his original plan to mess with the two of them. He was pretty sure Jake would pay for a better daycare for her son if they were dating seriously. You'd told him a bit about Cat's ex husband and how she was in financial ruin. 

"Well, you have free babysitters," he told her softly. "Really good ones, too."

She laughed softly and leaned in a little closer. "Thanks. Yeah, top notch babysitters. Especially Tramp."

Bradley laughed, too, and then Jake cleared his throat loudly. "If the two of you are finished over there..."

"Later," Bradley told Cat with a grin. And when he walked around toward the Bronco, he winked at Jake and said, "Nice car seat, man."

Jake flipped him off rather discreetly, but he looked happy. When Bradley pulled his Bronco out of his parking spot, he noticed that Jake had walked around to the passenger side of his car. He and Cat were kissing, and Jake was once again holding his middle finger up behind his back for Bradley. 

When he got home, your car was already there. "Sweetheart," he called out as he walked inside. "I am on the cutting edge of the Jake gossip today." You were on the couch wrapped up in his undershirt and a blanket even though it was May, and you were eating a pack of cookies. "You okay?" he asked softly, but he already knew.

You nodded and met his eyes. "I got my period today." Your voice was bland and emotionless, but at least you weren't crying. You just looked exhausted and defeated. 

Bradley made a beeline to the couch and bent to kiss your forehead. "I love you," he promised as you looked up at him, the faintest smile on your lips. "I'll get your heating pad and some Advil? You want a glass of wine?"

"Yeah," you whispered. He didn't even take the time to remove his boots, and Tramp followed him from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen in search of supplies. 

"I'll walk you in a bit. Relax," Bradley coaxed, tossing a treat that the dog caught in midair. "Mommy needs a cuddle first." And it was like the animal listened to him, because a minute later, you were snuggled up on Bradley's lap along with Tramp and the heating pad.

"How was your day?" you asked softly with your eyes closed. Bradley wasn't sure what he should or shouldn't mention right now. He wanted to make sure you were doing okay, but he didn't want to upset you over your period. He wasn't upset about it at all. 

"My day was fine. Do you... want to talk about anything?"

You sighed. "If you're referring to my period? No, not really. I'm okay, I promise. Just a little disappointed, but I think that's mainly because it came a day late, and I was getting just the tiniest bit hopeful, you know?"

Truthfully, Bradley hadn't been keeping up with your cycle, but now that he did the math, you were most likely ovulating right when he got home from deployment. "That makes sense," he whispered, kissing your hair. But he had been too happy since he returned home to let this ruin his day. "But you still got me."

You snuggled in a little closer and kissed his neck. "What's your hot Jake gossip?"

"Well...." It was his time to shine. He always found out everything late or after the fact, and you always liked to pick on him for it. "He and Cat went to pick Jeremiah up from daycare. Together."

You yawned and mumbled, "Yeah, they've been doing that for the past week or so."

"Oh," he said, slightly annoyed that this wasn't news to you. "Well, he also told me he hasn't even slept with her yet," he added.

"I know. I think he's secretly afraid of Hondo kicking his ass."

"Oh. Well, Jake has a car seat for Jeremiah now. But I'm assuming you already know that."

"Of course I do. But this was a really solid effort on your part, Roo. I'm so proud of you."

He just grunted and helped you readjust your heating pad. "I'm supposed to play golf in the morning, unless you'd rather I stay here and make you breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I feel bad enough already. But after you and Jake play golf, we're going out to dinner with him."

"We are? When did this happen? I just saw him."

You grinned up at him and said, "I was just texting Cat. Jake found a kid friendly restaurant that he thought would be great for Jeremiah. I said you'd probably really like it too. There is apparently a playground inside."

Bradley was quiet for a moment as you ran your fingers up along his neck. "Okay... that does sound really fun. Are there swings? I could push Jeremiah on the swings."

"I think there might be."

"I'm in."

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

You managed to get up and make Bradley breakfast even though you felt awful. But he spent Friday night cleaning the house after he got you in bed for the night with the heating pad, so you figured some scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel was the least you could do. 

"Jesus, Baby Girl," he moaned, as if you had made him a gourmet breakfast. "So fucking good." 

"Thanks for cleaning and doing the laundry," you said before you yawned. But Bradley collected you in his arms and held you. 

"Thanks for being the best person in the world," he replied, scooping you up and carrying you back to the bedroom while you giggled. "Now get back in bed and get some rest. We've got dinner and the Hard Deck later." 

Then he spun his cap backwards and climbed gently on top of you with a grin. "What are you doing?" you asked, but he cut off your words with his lips. 

"Loving my wife for a minute," he muttered, kissing you hard and parting your lips with his. You tasted his tongue as you moaned, and your fingers found their way to the short hair at the back of his neck. His mustache was really doing it for you, but as soon as you ran your tongue along it, Bradley was pulling away from you. 

"Roo," you whined as he rolled off of you and adjusted his pants. 

"I'll be back after lunchtime," he whispered, and just the sight of his hand on his cock through the fabric of his white golf pants had you pouting. "I love you."

You begrudgingly said, "I love you, too. Even though you're leaving me high and dry." Then you rolled over as he chuckled and left. And you thought about his hands gripping his golf club in those soft, sexy gloves until you were able to fall asleep again.

When you woke up hours later, you were starving and decided to eat a sandwich while you lounged on the back patio. You tossed pieces of crust to Tramp and then you wandered back inside, running your finger along the piano keys as you went. The house was too quiet, and it gave you that melancholy feeling that you got when Bradley was deployed. 

For the briefest moment, you imagined a baby in your arms. Someone to keep you company while he was away. A little one to grow up knowing what it felt like to miss their dad and then be reunited with him over and over again. Someone else for Bradley to dote on. You swallowed down the miserable feeling before it could take over. A baby was not more important than your marriage. A baby did not need to happen at this moment. A child would be welcomed at any time, not just right now. 

You drew a bath, and you were barely in there for more than five minutes when Tramp jumped up from the bath mat and ran for the front door. 

"Sweetheart?"

"In the bathroom," you called, and a second later Bradley was in the room with you. "How were the guys?"

"The usual," he grunted as he knelt on the mat and dipped his fingers in the water. "How was your morning?" he asked, keeping a totally innocent expression on his face as he stroked your breast just under the water's surface.

"Missed you. Got myself a little sad, because it felt like a day when you were deployed." 

Bradley tossed his cap on the floor and said, "I'm right here. I'm yours for the rest of the day. The rest of the weekend. Until we have to go to work on Monday."

"I know," you said, your voice sounding so small as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Will you go see Dr. Genevieve with me next week?"

He answered immediately as his hand found yours. "Of course. I haven't been to therapy in years. It'll be good."

You gaped at him. "You've seen a therapist before?"

"Yeah," he replied with his brow scrunched. "College was a very rough time for me without my mom. And Mav pulled my papers. And I didn't feel like I really belonged anywhere. I never told you that?"

You were just in awe of this man and his notebooks and his open honesty right now and the fact that you were always learning more about him. "No. But I'm really proud of you."

He smiled softly and blushed. "We can go see Dr. Genevieve together. We can do everything together. But you're not allowed to make fun of me if I have more fun at the restaurant tonight than the one year old."

You shook your head and said, "It would come as a surprise to literally nobody."

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

"I don't know why he's fussing so much. He's usually a good eater," Cat said, cutting up some food into tiny pieces while Jeremiah remained on the verge of tears in the high chair. Bradley noticed that Jake was looking a little stressed out, presumably because Jeremiah wasn't enjoying the restaurant as much as he had hoped. Jake had spent all morning at the golf course talking about how excited he was.

"Let me see here," Bradley murmured, picking up the rainbow colored fork and tickling Jeremiah with his fingers while he held out a bite of food. In an instant he was laughing, and then he had a mouthful of food. "You love it here, right kiddo? We played on the swings. We drew on the walls. Your mom let you eat dessert first, and Jake won you a porcupine in the claw machine. Now eat up."

"You're incredible," Cat whispered. "No wonder he likes going to your house so much."

"Nah," Bradley said as Jeremiah took hold of the fork for himself. "It's all her and the way she can read a board book like it was written by a Pulitzer Prize winner." He leaned in and kissed you as you beamed at him. Bradley had spent the better part of an hour after your bath rubbing your back while reading some of his notebook entries to you. It always really seemed to make an impact where sometimes his verbal skills escaped him. But when he wrote his feelings out on a piece of paper, it made all the difference in the world.

"Are you coming to the Hard Deck after this?" you asked, turning to look at Jeremiah as he ate. "Well, not you, little man."

"Nope," Jake said with a cocky grin on his face and his arm draped across the back of Cat's chair. "We're going to watch the newest Scooby Doo movie back at my place and enjoy some of the chocolate chip cookies that I definitely made myself and did not buy at the store."

Cat laughed, and Bradley watched as she leaned in to whisper something to Jake as she brushed his hair back from the scar on his forehead. "They look happy," you muttered, taking Bradley's hand in yours underneath the table. 

"Yeah," he agreed, carefully wiping Jeremiah's face as Cat kissed Jake like they were completely alone. "I'll roast him later for this. He always tells me we're disgusting."

"We are a little bit disgusting, Roo."

"Never said we weren't."

When you and he left the three of them a little while later and headed to the Hard Deck, Bradley was in an absolutely disgusting, soppy mood. You were singing along so badly to his favorite playlist while his hand rested on your thigh, and he was just so fucking proud of you for not letting your period take over your mood. Especially when all he wanted was to make you happy, and he knew it would have crushed him if you were being hard on yourself while he doted on you.

When he pulled into the parking lot and put the Bronco in park, he said, "I don't understand how you can sing so badly when you make the prettiest sounds I've ever heard in bed."

"Hey!" you complained with a laugh as you crawled across the seat and onto his lap. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I only have the nicest things to say about you and your singing voice," he promised with an obnoxious smile as you pushed his head back against the headrest and started to gently nibble on his neck. Soon you were sucking a little harder as your hand trailed up and down his bicep. "Oh shit. That feels great. Let's go home."

You moaned softly and licked a trail up to his ear before whispering, "Nope. You tease me, I'm going to tease you right back." Then you rubbed yourself against his cock, and Bradley tried to get his arm around you, but you were already jumping down from his lap to the parking lot. 

"Hey!" he called out with a laugh as you ran ahead of him while he tried to lock the Bronco doors. When he jogged inside, you were already at the bar chatting with Penny. He made eye contact with you, and you smirked. 

Bradley strolled up behind you and pressed himself against your butt, kissing the back of your neck. "Whenever you decide you want to behave, I'll be at the pool table," he whispered. 

You just laughed and said, "You know that's not going to happen."

"Well, come say hi to Nat anyway," he added, laughing softly against your neck. Penny was looking at the two of you together with the softest expression, and Bradley figured that was how he usually looked at you, too.  "You know, I can remember the early days before the two of you were together," Penny said over the buzz of conversation. "All the longing glances and sneaking off together." Bradley set his hand on your hip and said, "Hey, we thought we were being pretty discreet." "Nice try," Penny said with a laugh as she slid two beer bottles across the bar.  "Were we not discreet?" Bradley whispered as you and he walked toward Nat. You beamed up at him. "I guess not." He watched you walk into his best friend's open arms for a hug. And now he was thinking about every way he could be less than discreet with you tonight. You kept touching him, just some fleeting brushes of your hand to his abs or arm while you chatted with the others, but you were relentless.  When the beers were empty, you took his bottle and said, "I'll take these back up to the bar, and then I'm running to the ladies' room." Bradley just grunted as you squeezed his bicep. As soon as you disappeared down the hallway, he dug his phone out of his pocket and sent you a quick text. Meet me outside at our special spot? He waited and waited but got no response. However, when you reemerged from the hallway, you caught his eye and then continued toward the exit. Bradley was in the middle of conversation with Javy about golfing when he suddenly said, "Hey, man, excuse me for a minute."

Bradley pushed his way through the crowd, and once he was back outside in the cool, dark night, he turned and ran toward the steps at the far end of the deck. As soon as his shoes hit the sand, you were reaching out for him. 

"Been a while since we did this," you told him, your voice filled with laughter as he backed you up against the deck post. 

"Too long," he agreed, letting his lips meet yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It was amazing how kissing you and just touching you made him feel so good inside. The feel of your kisses was a comfort that he knew by heart, and every curve of your body fit his hands perfectly. His fingers were inside your shirt, his thumbs gliding along your ribs and up to your bra.

You moaned into his mouth, pressing up on your toes and pulling him closer. When he broke the kiss to breathe, you whispered, "I have my period though."

"I know. Just wanted to make out with my fucking hot ass wife. Penny made me nostalgic."

His rough hands were on your lower back, and your head was tipped against the post. Bradley worked his lips along your neck, collar bones and cleavage as you said, "This feels just as good as the first time. Maybe better."

"Definitely better," he murmured. "You're in love with me now."

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

You had no shame. Your outfit was a wrinkled mess, and your lips were puffy when you returned to the pool table some thirty minutes later. Bradley's hair looked like he'd been outside during a natural disaster, and Penny smirked at him when he got two more beers. 

But it didn't matter, because you were so happy. So you let the guys pick on Bradley while you laughed into your beer bottle. And when you got home, you let him lure you into the shower to have sex at one in the morning where he made you cum so hard, your echoing voice scared Tramp. And maybe the sex was better when you weren't trying so hard to get pregnant. And maybe listening to him read his notebook to you every night was doing more than you originally thought.

When you got to work on Monday morning, Bickel was waiting for your help with his most time sensitive projects. "Your ideas are always so refreshing, Lieutenant Commander." 

And when you sat in the lab all afternoon, Cat came over at one point and simply said, "You were right about Jake."

And then Bradley met you for thirty minutes where he got to meet Dr. Genevieve. You told her that you were having a good day even though you got your period, and the three of you just chatted a little bit. 

But you should have known that by the end of the week, you'd be feeling a little different. You were at home on Friday, already lounging on the couch and looking at vacation destinations for your first anniversary in November when Bradley walked in holding two envelopes.

"We need to talk." 

You popped up on the couch and eyed him carefully. "About what?"

"Two things." He struggled out of his boots at the front door as he said, "Admiral Dean's court-martial has a date scheduled. And there's also an upcoming special detachment."

The court appearance for Dean and Slayer was something you figured would be happening soon. But a special detachment? You weren't sure if you were ready to hear about it. "Just tell me."

Bradley dropped down on the couch next to you and gave you a quick kiss. "June 9th," he said, handing you the first envelope. You scanned along, reading the dates and times, and sure enough, Bradley would have to appear in full dress uniform in court that day. 

"Okay," you murmured, "now tell me about the detachment."

He kissed you again and then again, and you realized he seemed a lot more antsy about this bit of information. "Here." He placed the second envelope in your hand, but the paperwork had almost no information on it. And you were surprised to see that it had a classification code above what you were currently privy to.

"This tells me nothing, Roo."

"I realize that," he replied, running his hands through his hair. "It's something top secret. I wouldn't get any of the details unless I'm selected." He turned to look at you with his elbows propped on his knees and his forehead cupped in one hand. "But, Baby Girl... I really want to do this. I think I kind of need to."

And you understood exactly what he meant without him elaborating further. He still thought he needed to prove himself after being named the spare by Admiral Dean, and this was probably the kind of mission that would get his head on straight again and bring back his confidence. But this was also the kind of mission that would leave you at home, alone and worried. Because if he wasn't one hundred percent in the right head space, it could spell disaster. 'Top secret' meant highly dangerous. But it also meant only the most skilled pilots and weapons systems officers would be chosen to participate.

You swallowed down your fear and nudged his bicep until he leaned back and welcomed you onto his lap. "If you want to do it, then I hope you get chosen." You hated that your voice shook and tears filled your eyes, because you wanted to be encouraging for him. 

"Come here," he whispered gently, and you sobbed quietly as he held you in his arms. "It'll be okay. I might not even get selected. But if I do, it'll still be okay."

"I know," you said, sucking in a deep breath. You hated that his confidence had been shaken in this way, but he was among the best, and you were already sure he'd be going. You could feel it in your bones. 

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

I'm hoping Dean and Slayer get what they deserve. And also up next, Roo and BG visit a new bar they've never been to before with an agenda they've never indulged in before. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[creativeashproductions]

@websterss who’d have thought 3 ghosts and teenage girl would bring us together 💛

idk it just feels so good when you realize a fandom friend has become ur friend friend—y’know? like instead of only talking about ur common interest u start branching out and talking to each other about your lives, your other hobbies, and it’s even cooler to remain close if one or both of you lose interest in the fandom you met in. your bond, no longer dependent on the mutual love you had for some thing—now lies upon the kinship you’ve built. i think that’s beautiful

[creativeashproductions]

Immaculate. Beautiful. Wonderful.

I don’t even wants kids and it gave me baby fever. But I mean it’s impossible to not a mild case when it’s Jake (let’s be real Glen) is holding a baby.

No chance to reject it 🥲

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to work up the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better.