#12 Things to Do in San Diego | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lowaltitude · 15 days

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Dial Tone | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 99% texts. established relationships? the most basic plot idea everrrr bc I watched The Idea Of You before watching a playoffs match. PART 1. 3.5k words

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I had just gotten home and sprawled out on my apartment's couch, letting Netflix autoplay something random after finishing Brooklyn Nine-Nine again. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024Today, 3:16 PM UNKNOWN: Alley said she tried to call you, text me when you're on the way to the rink.

My phone buzzed again.

Today, 3:42 PM UNKNOWN: Steph?

Today, 4:01 PM UNKNOWN: Are you on your way or not?

I glanced at my phone, seeing another message from the unknown number. Smirking slightly, typing a quick response.

ME: Not Steph, good luck finding your girlfriend.

I tossed my phone aside and settled deeper into the couch, trying to distract myself from the uninspired short story I had been working on. Hours passed, and I still hadn’t made any progress. The story was just another tall tale that could easily end with "and then I woke up," and at this rate, it might.

My phone buzzed again, and I groaned before reaching for it.

Today, 12:19 AM UNKNOWN: Gross. I was looking for my sister.

I sighed, feeling slightly amused.

ME: Okay? Hope you found her. UNKNOWN: I'm sorry to have bothered you, I realise the area code is wrong.

With nothing better to do, I found myself replying, curiosity piqued.

ME: 212, Manhattan. Nice area, rich boy charm. UNKNOWN: Not really rich, or much charm. But boy, yes. 619, where's that? ME: San Diego.

A pause. I put my phone down, trying to focus back on my assignment, but the ping of a new message distracted me.

UNKNOWN: I'm guessing you're just as bored as I am right now. ME: Definitely bored, that is correct. UNKNOWN: So San Diego, what’s keeping you awake that’s so boring? ME: Nothing much, Manhattan. Just assignments. But it’s only 12:30 here, isn’t it 3 AM in NY? UNKNOWN: That would be correct. ME: Then what’s keeping YOU awake? UNKNOWN: Won my hockey game, went to celebrate, and now I’m just sitting here.

I chuckled, intrigued by the late-night conversation.

ME: Hockey? Do you play for a college team or just for fun?

There was a long pause, a stark contrast to the quick replies earlier.

MANHATTAN: Yeah, I do college hockey. ME: Nice, what position? I don’t know LOTS about hockey or anything, but I'm friends with some guys on the SDSU team. MANHATTAN: Haha, right wing. But really, I just rough people up 💪 ME: Oh cool! (no clue what a right wing does) MANHATTAN: Then what position does your boyfriend play?

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift.

ME: I never said that word. MANHATTAN: And I'm just checking. You are a girl, right? I’m not about to hit on a 50-year-old man.

I laughed, surprised by his forwardness.

ME: You’re about to hit on me? Are you meant to tell me that? MANHATTAN: Probably not, but I had a few drinks a bit ago so I can blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. ME: Yes, I am a girl. MANHATTAN: Wonderful, now that I know you're not trying to lure me into your mother's basement so you can use my skin as your new rug, can I get your name?

I smirked, enjoying the playful tone.

ME: Whoa, never said anything about NOT making a new rug. I kind of like the whole Manhattan & San Diego anonymous thing we have happening. MANHATTAN: Hmm, I guess so. A secret identity might not be the best move though. ME: Are you sure you want to risk it? Might say something regrettable since it’s 4 AM for you now. MANHATTAN: But it's only 1 AM for you, so it’s a risk I’ll take ;)

I smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

ME: Exactly how many strangers do you text like this? MANHATTAN: If I say only 1 will that make you feel special? ME: So you just go around contacting random numbers in hopes they’re girls your age so you can try to knock their socks off? MANHATTAN: You catch on fast, San Diego.

I rubbed my eyes, getting off the couch, typing as I walked through my small apartment. I passed my roommate’s bedroom, noticing her snoring with her phone still looping the last TikTok she’d been watching.

As I reached my room, I took off my hoodie and left my phone on my bed, watching for the next message.

ME: So, tell me about your hockey match. MANHATTAN: Well… I actually got ejected so I didn’t do much. ME: Ahh, a ruffian. MANHATTAN: All I did was elbow a guy! ME: In the face? MANHATTAN: No comment. ME: While going really fast on knife shoes? MANHATTAN: I said no comment, San Diego 😠😠 But yes. I may have a little notoriety for… enforcing. ME: How many fights does college hockey have? Oh wow. MANHATTAN: I think that's enough of my sports career. Tell me about you. ME: About me? MANHATTAN: I want to know about you. I mean it, tell me something.

I hesitated, then smiled.

ME: Um, I can't think of anything… I just got into bed. MANHATTAN: Then you should go, San Diego, get some rest. Nice chatting with you (and I'll text you later in the day if that's alright). ME: Bye, Manhattan 👋 (and I wouldn't be opposed).

I placed my phone on the nightstand, my thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection as I drifted off to sleep.

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I woke up to a new text message, my groggy eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024today 10:32am MANHATTAN: Morning, San Diego! Did you sleep well?

I smiled at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to actually text me again, but here he was.

ME: Morning! I did, thanks 😊 How about you? Finally got some sleep after your 4 am texting spree? MANHATTAN: Eventually, yeah. Slept in a bit, but now I’m back at it. MANHATTAN: Classes and all that. ME: Fun times… What’s your major? MANHATTAN: Business. It’s alright, but hockey’s the real passion. You? ME: English, hence my very exciting letter-writing assignment 🙄 MANHATTAN: Ah, right. The one you’re totally not procrastinating on. ME: Exactly! I’m just waiting for inspiration to hit. MANHATTAN: Maybe I can help with that.

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, intrigued.

ME: Oh yeah? You’re a secret writing genius, Mr. Hockey? MANHATTAN: Hardly. But I’m good at roughing up boring ideas. Give me a shot. What’s the assignment again? ME: I have to write a long letter. Could be to anyone about anything… It's supposed to show off my writing skills. MANHATTAN: How about a letter to a stranger? Like some random person you met by mistake… 👀

I laughed, seeing where he was going with this.

ME: Sounds like something I’d do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. MANHATTAN: If you need material, I can keep sending you nonsense texts. You know, for inspiration. ME: Careful, I might just put all your deepest, darkest secrets into my assignment. MANHATTAN: Bold of you to assume I have any secrets, San Diego. ME: Everyone has secrets, Manhattan.

There was a pause before he responded, the three little dots appearing and disappearing a few times. I wondered what he was thinking or if I’d said something to make him hesitate.

MANHATTAN: Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out 😉 ME: Smooth. Real smooth. MANHATTAN: It’s part of my so-called charm. So, what’s your day looking like? ME: Not much, honestly. Maybe I’ll hit the library, try to get some work done. MANHATTAN: Or you could do something fun instead. Life’s too short to spend all day in the library. ME: Fun? What do you suggest? MANHATTAN: Well, if you were in Manhattan, I’d say we go skating. But since you’re all the way over there… What do people even do for fun in San Diego? ME: I could go to the beach… but it’s not really the best weather for it today. MANHATTAN: Rainy? ME: Just cloudy, kind of chilly. The ocean looks a bit gloomy when it’s like this. MANHATTAN: Gloomy beaches, sounds like a whole vibe. Maybe that’s your inspiration. A letter to the ocean or something. ME: You really think a letter to the ocean will get me a passing grade? MANHATTAN: If you write it well enough, why not? Make it all deep and meaningful. Professors eat that stuff up. ME: Haha, I’ll think about it. Anyway, what about you? Any big plans? MANHATTAN: Just practice later, then probably hanging out with the team. Nothing too exciting. ME: Sounds like a solid day. Try not to get ejected this time. MANHATTAN: No promises. Gotta keep my reputation, you know? ME: Right, the tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: But I’m a softie at heart, San Diego. Don’t let the hockey fool you. ME: Noted. Maybe I’ll write that in my letter. “To the boy who’s tough on the ice but soft underneath…” MANHATTAN: Now you’re getting it. Make me sound mysterious. ME: Mysterious, huh? I’ll see what I can do.

I was grinning now, the banter flowing easily between us. There was something about this random stranger that made me feel lighter, like maybe today wasn’t going to be so dull after all.

ME: Alright, I should actually get ready if I’m going to do anything productive today. But thanks for the distraction, Manhattan. MANHATTAN: Anytime, San Diego. I’ll text you later? ME: Looking forward to it.

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I was curled up on my couch, a mug of tea warming my hands as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. The past month had flown by, and my unexpected friendship with 'Manhattan' had become a regular part of my routine. We’d been texting nearly every day, sharing snippets of our lives, random thoughts, and plenty of playful banter. But lately, something had shifted—his messages had taken on a more flirty tone, and, honestly, I didn’t mind it.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled when his contact name popped up on the screen.

Friday, April 12, 2024today 8:45pm MANHATTAN: What’s up, San Diego? Missing me yet?

I couldn’t help but grin at his words. He’d been dropping little hints like this more and more, and each time, it sent a little thrill through me.

ME: Why would I miss you? We just talked this morning 😏 MANHATTAN: I don’t know, you tell me. Maybe you’re secretly counting down the hours until you hear from me again. ME: Oh, totally. I’m just sitting here pining away. MANHATTAN: Knew it. You can’t resist my charm. ME: Your ego is something else, you know that? MANHATTAN: Only because you feed it. Anyway, what’s the plan for tonight? Any hot dates?

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the question, even though I knew he was probably just teasing.

ME: Just me, myself, and I tonight. Super exciting. MANHATTAN: That’s a shame. If I were in San Diego, I’d take you out somewhere nice. ME: Oh yeah? Where would you take me, Mr. Big City? MANHATTAN: Somewhere with a view, good food, and even better company. ME: Wow, smooth talker. Do you use this line on all the girls? MANHATTAN: Only the ones who accidentally text me back 😉

I laughed, shaking my head at his response.

ME: Lucky me, I guess. MANHATTAN: I think I’m the lucky one here.

I paused, reading the message again, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. There it was again—that flirty edge that had been creeping into his texts lately. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

ME: Is that so? MANHATTAN: Definitely. How many girls are cool enough to joke about turning me into a rug and then end up being someone I actually want to talk to every day? ME: Fair point. I’m one of a kind. MANHATTAN: That you are. So, since I’m not there to take you out, what are you doing to entertain yourself? ME: I’m just relaxing, maybe watching a movie later. Nothing too crazy. MANHATTAN: Sounds cozy. I’d offer to keep you company, but I’m not sure you’re ready to handle my charming self in person. ME: Oh, I’m sure I could handle you just fine. MANHATTAN: Careful, San Diego. I might take that as a challenge.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves at his boldness. This was definitely new territory, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying it.

ME: Maybe I want you to.

There was a pause, and I watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, wondering what was going through his mind. My heart raced in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. Then, my phone buzzed again—not with a message, but with a photo.

I opened it and stared at the image for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips. He was standing in what looked like a hallway, wearing a worn white T-shirt and a Yankees baseball cap. His hair was a little long, curling out from under the cap, and he had a faint mustache that gave him a laid-back, almost mischievous look. His smile was subtle but warm, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect either.

MANHATTAN: Figured it’s only fair you see who you’re talking to.

I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. He was more than I’d imagined—there was something so genuine and relaxed about him, and that easy confidence I’d sensed in our conversations was clearly just a part of who he was.

ME: Not bad, Manhattan. Not bad at all. MANHATTAN: Glad you approve. Now, your turn?

I felt a rush of nerves as I realized he was asking for a photo in return. This felt like a big step—more real than anything we’d done before. But there was also something exciting about it, about finally showing him who I was after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then snapped a quick selfie, trying to capture something that felt natural but not too staged. I hesitated only for a second before hitting send, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

ME: Alright, but don’t judge too harshly.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I sent the photo. I could practically feel my pulse in my ears as I watched the screen, waiting for his response. It didn’t take long.

MANHATTAN: Wow.

I bit my lip, a small smile creeping onto my face. Just one word, but it was enough to make my stomach flip.

ME: "Wow" good, or "wow" bad? MANHATTAN: Definitely good. You’re beautiful, San Diego. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. There was something different about receiving a compliment from someone who’d only known me through words until now—someone who hadn’t seen my face but still wanted to know more about me.

ME: You’re just saying that. MANHATTAN: I’m really not. I mean it. I didn’t expect this whole wrong-number thing to turn into something like this, but I’m glad it did. ME: Me too. It’s been… nice, talking to you. Getting to know you. MANHATTAN: More than nice, if you ask me. But now that I’ve seen you, I kind of want to see more of you.

My heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of him wanting more, even though we’d only known each other through these messages, made something flutter inside me.

ME: More of me? How so? MANHATTAN: Not in a creepy way, I promise. Just… more of your thoughts, your stories. I like hearing about your day, what you’re up to. I guess I’m just curious about you. ME: You’re making me blush over here. MANHATTAN: Good. You’ve been doing that to me since day one.

I felt my face heat up even more, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how this random guy from Manhattan, who I’d never even met, could make me feel this way.

ME: Well, if you’re really that curious, ask away. What do you want to know? MANHATTAN: That sounds perfect. What’s your favorite book? ME: That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child! How would you feel if I asked you your favorite hockey team? MANHATTAN: New York Rangers. Easy. Number 1 😉 ME: Alright, I'll take your word for it. MANHATTAN: So, tell me something else. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?

I laughed softly to myself, feeling that familiar warmth from our conversation. The idea of us just getting to know each other like this, little by little, was comforting. It felt safe and exciting all at once.

ME: I’ve always wanted to travel more. There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen a tiny part of it. MANHATTAN: Where’s the first place you’d go? ME: Italy, I think. The food, the history, the art—I want to experience all of it. MANHATTAN: That sounds incredible. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, too. ME: Maybe one day we’ll both get there. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to keep texting about it. MANHATTAN: I’m more than okay with that, San Diego. Talking to you is the best part of my day. ME: Same here, Manhattan.

As I set my phone down, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. There was no rush, no pressure—just a growing connection with someone who was quickly becoming more than just a stranger on the other end of a text. And for now, that was more than enough.

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It had been almost a month since the night I saw Manhattan’s face for the first time, and our conversations had only gotten better since then. We talked almost every day, sharing little details about our lives, random thoughts, and sometimes just silence on the other end of the line when we were both too tired to text much. I was surprised by how close I’d grown to him, even without meeting in person.

One afternoon, I got an email from one of my professors that sent my heart racing. My university was offering a select group of students a fully-funded, three-day trip to New York City to attend a special literary conference. The idea was to network, attend workshops, and get a taste of the publishing world in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. And somehow, I’d been chosen.

As soon as I read the email, my mind went straight to Manhattan. The idea of being in the same city as him, even if I wasn’t planning on meeting up, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But as much as I wanted to share the news with him, a different thought crossed my mind—a surprise. What if I didn’t tell him? What if I showed up in his city and surprised him with the news?

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. He’d been so open and sweet in our conversations, and I wanted to do something special. It felt like the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, in a good way.

That evening, when I grabbed my phone to text him, I felt a little mischievous. I decided to keep the New York trip to myself for now.

Tuesday, May 2, 2024today 8:45pm ME: Hey, how’s your day going? MANHATTAN: Not bad, just finished practice. How about you? ME: Same old, same old. Classes, assignments, you know the drill. MANHATTAN: Ah, the glamorous life of a student. Anything exciting on the horizon?

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to spill the beans.

ME: Nothing too crazy. Just trying to survive this semester. MANHATTAN: You’ve got this. I believe in you, San Diego. ME: Thanks, Manhattan. I appreciate that. MANHATTAN: Anytime. So, what’s on your mind? ME: Honestly, just thinking about how much I’d love to get away for a bit. You know, escape the routine. MANHATTAN: I hear you. If you ever find yourself in need of a change of scenery, you know where to find me 😉

I smiled to myself, knowing that in just a few weeks, I would be much closer to him than he realized.

ME: I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: Good. I’d be happy to play tour guide if you ever made it to the Big Apple. ME: I’ll have to remember that. You seem like you’d be a pretty good tour guide. MANHATTAN: Oh, I am. You’d be in excellent hands.

I chuckled, the idea of actually seeing him in person lingering in the back of my mind. But for now, I decided to keep the surprise to myself.

ME: I’ll bet. Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. MANHATTAN: I hope so. It would be fun.

A sense of anticipation buzzed through me. The thought of being in New York, in his city, and surprising him with my presence was exciting. It was something to look forward to, something just for me, and maybe for him too—when the time was right.

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to be continued... hehehe

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shakespeareanwannabe · 6 months

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As You Wish, Chapter 8

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings/Disclaimers: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, breastfeeding, swearing, angst, tears, references to drinking, sadness, references to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, adults doing sneaky things, references to babies

San Diego, California, almost 12 years ago

Buttercup slowly rocked in her chair, the slight breeze from the open window fluttering the pale-yellow curtains that she had hung so carefully while Jake had been deployed. Of course, he had lost his ever-loving shit when he had come home to find the nursery half decorated and the furniture half built, but the hour-long lecture about taking it easy during pregnancy and not doing any heavy lifting had been worth it.

The nursery was exactly as she had pictured it, once Jake had finished building the furniture and Javy and Bob had finished painting the walls the pale-yellow she had chosen. The mural of pink and purple butterflies she had painted on the wall looked so perfect behind the dark cherry wood cribs, and the colours perfectly matched the crib bedding she had ordered.

She had poured her heart and soul into decorating the nursery, their forever home…and now she was leaving it. Her bags were packed and stacked by the door. She was just waiting for Jake to return with Abby so they could go their separate ways.

Buttercup sniffled as she looked down at the tiny baby suckling on her breast. “I hope you know that I would take you both with me in a heartbeat if I could,” she whispered down to her sweet Charlie. “But we have to be fair. And…” she choked back a sob. “Your sister needs me more than you do right now.”

Abby’s weight had been dropping steadily in the weeks since the divorce had been finalized, and Buttercup’s doctor thought that the stress of it all had been affecting her milk supply, and so had recommended switching Charlie to formula so that Abby could absorb all the extra nutrients she needed. Therefore, when the judge had agreed to their abnormal custody arrangement, Buttercup had made the difficult decision to take Abby, leaving Jake with all the pumped breastmilk she had stored so that Charlie wouldn’t have to transition to formula right away.

Still, the decision had nearly broken her, as much as the decision to divorce her husband had.

“I’ll see you again soon,” she whispered as Charlie released her. Buttercup lifted her daughter onto her shoulder and patted her back. “As soon as your dad’s schedule calms down a little and I get settled in my new home, we’ll start figuring out how to share custody, okay? But I promise you, Charlie. I love you and I will miss you so much.” Buttercup’s shoulders heaved with the effort it took not to break down into sobs. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. You don’t deserve any of this happening to you. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry I can’t take both of you. I…I’m so sorry.”

Buttercup snuggled Charlie closer and gently rocked, willing time to either slow down or just stop. It was moments like this that made her second guess every decision she had made in her life. Feelings of failure and shame washed over her as easily as the ocean washed over the sand in the distance. She had failed the sweet little girl in her arms and her sister. They both had.

Buttercup didn’t know how much time had passed before a low cough broke her concentrated view on the ocean in the distance.

Jake stood with a sleeping Abby in his arms, shadows of grief and longing painting his face. “Hey…”

All the words she wanted to say pressed against lips, but she was able to squeeze out a small, “Hey,” in reply without breaking down.

“She…she’s all ready,” Jake murmured, his falling to the infant in his arms.

“So is she,” Buttercup whispered. “All the milk I pumped is in the fridge, and…and her favourite blanket is in her crib. She…” Buttercup bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She couldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t let herself cry in front of him, not again. Not ever again.

“I know,” Jake saved her, nodding at the list pinned to the corkboard. “You wrote it all down for me.”

As though moving through quicksand, Buttercup stood and waded towards him. With practiced, ease they switched babies, Abby now content in her mother’s arms and Charlie in her father’s.

“Hey…maybe we could—”

Buttercup shook her head, her eyes trained on Charlie’s sleeping face. If she met those green eyes of his, she’d fall apart for sure.

“No…we can’t.”

Somehow, she knew Jake was nodding. “Right…we can’t.”

Buttercup’s lips trembled but she refused to break. “I guess we’ll be in touch about custody…”

Jake sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be in touch.”

“O-okay…goodbye, Jake.”

Heaviness hung over both of them, the weight of everything they were leaving unsaid sitting like a leaden cloud. “Goodbye, Buttercup.”

London, England, Now

When Charlie awoke the next morning, it was to a growing sense of relief mixed with absolute dread. Relief because she wasn’t holding onto this huge dark secret that had been taking up the majority of her brain power. Uncle Bob knew. He knew and he wasn’t upset. He loved her despite her not being Abby. He loved her despite not seeing her for almost 12 years. He held her and let her cry, then ate ice cream with her and talked about her life in Texas, all the questions she’d been wanting to ask pouring from her lips like some sort of waterfall. Bob knew her secret and still loved her. In fact, he’d known the whole time, but Mom didn’t know. And he wasn’t going to tell her.

That’s where the dread came in. Telling mom. She wasn’t worried that Mom wouldn’t love her once she found out that she wasn’t Charlie, but she was worried about her reaction. Would she cry? How would she react if her Mom started crying right in front of her? What if she was angry at them for doing something so reckless? Charlie didn’t know if she could handle her mom being angry with her. What if she blamed her father? Dad hadn’t known anything about this plan and, according to Abby at least, he was completely clueless about the switch, but if their divorce had been so bad that they had to put an ocean between them, who could say if Mom would get irrationally angry at Dad for letting this happen? Even though Charlie had mixed feelings about her dad and uncles lately, she wouldn’t be able to sit there and listen to her Dad be dragged through the dirt by her Mom. However, she had promised Bob that she would tell her, and she always kept her promises.

Charlie yawned and stretched and rolled out of bed, stopping to get dressed and grab her phone, where a notification from Abby was waiting.

A: Rooster knows.

Charlie’s heart stuttered in her chest.

C: WHAT? HOW?

A: Your stupid horse gave me away. You didn’t tell me she was so skittish.

Crap. She’d known she’d forgotten something, but there wasn’t exactly anything she could do about Lovebug being bonded to her and only her. Dad and Javy had a hard time getting close to her sometimes.

C: Crap. Sorry!

A: It’s okay. He said my lack of football knowledge and my vocabulary gave me away too. But he’s not going to tell Dad.

C: He’s not?

A: Yeah, he said it would be more fun for him to mess with Dad.

Charlie took a deep breath. At least there was that. Javy might have been willing to tell Dad because the two had been best friends since they were kids, so Rooster was the better person to find out anyway.

C: Okay…well, Bob found out too.

A: Oh no!

C: Turns out I’m not very convincing. He figured me out at the airport…in Buffalo.

A: What’s he going to do?

C: He said he wasn’t going to tell Mom…but that I have to.

A: Okay. When are you going to?

C: Today

A: So soon? What if she wants us to switch back?

Charlie frowned, a plan slowly taking form in her mind.

C: That wouldn’t be so bad. We could meet at a hotel in Texas and have them fall back in love with each other there?

A: And Savannah?

Charlie rolled her eyes.

C: I don’t know. But Dad can’t possibly be happy with her. Once he sees Mom again, the engagement will be off, and we’ll get to be a family again.

A: And if that doesn’t work?

C: We’ll figure it out. Together.

That’s what Uncle Bob had said. That they’d figure everything out together. Whether or not their parents fell back in love with each other, they wouldn’t be on their own to figure out a solution to their problems.

A: Okay. Tell me if Mum wants to talk to me?

C: I will…love you

A: Love you too

Charlie tucked her phone away and went downstairs, finding Bob drinking his coffee, dressed in an old Top Gun t-shirt and sweatpants, and Natasha, lounging on the couch, still in her pajamas.

“Good morning, everyone,” the slight British lilt that she had been practicing quavered as Bob met her eyes over the rim of his mug.

“Hey kid,” Nat greeted, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

Bob gently placed his mug down and came over to greet her with a hug. “Sleep well?” he whispered into her hair.

“Better. A lot better after talking to you,” she admitted, relaxing into the hug. “Are you not working today?”

He shook his head, straightening to his full height. “It’s my day off anyway, but I cancelled my plans. Figured you might want some emotional support, so I’ll be here if you need me.”

Charlie squeezed her arms around him, the same way she did with her dad or uncles whenever she was overwhelmed by the way they always had her back.

“Thanks, Uncle Bob,” she whispered, the lilted accent in her voice dropping away for a moment.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Nat sat up and stared at them over the back of the couch.

Charlie’s eyes shot to Bob’s, but he nodded reassuringly. “Nat should probably know, right? And you can see it as a sort of…rehearsal for telling your mom.”

Gulping, Charlie nodded and turned, squaring her shoulders.

“You two are acting so weird. Is someone dying?” Nat placed her bowl down and stood, coming around to stand in front of her. “Abby, doll, you know you can tell me anything. What is with all the whispering?”

Charlie took a deep breath and looked into her aunt’s eyes, ignoring the clouding and the scar that had stolen her aunt’s career and part of her vision.

“…I’m not,” she replied in a shaky breath.

“You’re not what? Dying? That’s good to know, kid, but I kinda figured.”

“No…I’m not A-Abby,” Charlie swallowed hard.

Nat’s brows furrowed, the silvery scar jumping slightly. “Of course you are,” Nat shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. You’re Abby. You have to be Abby. If you’re not Abby, then you’re…”

Bob stepped closer and put his hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“I’m what?” Charlie’s throat felt like it was closing up as Nat knelt down so they were eye to eye, her good eye furiously racing over her features as though trying to detect the truth.

“Charlie?” her aunt whispered, looking up to Bob for confirmation as Charlie nodded hesitantly. “Holy shit…Charlie?”

“Language, Nat,” Bob admonished with a chuckle as Charlie was swept off her feet into a bear hug that left her ribs aching and her heart singing.

“Oh, fuck off!” Nat placed Charlie on her feet and whirled around to meet her former partner. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? How long have you known? How long has he known?”

“I always knew,” Bob said with a shrug, retreating behind the kitchen counter as Nat advanced on him.

“Always…always knew? You mean you’ve known this entire freaking time? And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Robert?”

Bob winced slightly. “I figured it wasn’t my secret to tell. And could you keep your voice down, please? My sister doesn’t know yet.”

“Your sist…Buttercup doesn’t know?” Nat gaped at them both. “Okay, we are sitting down right now, and you are telling me the whole story. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” uncle and niece sat on the couch, their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

Nat sat in the armchair across from them and folded her arms. “Speak.”

“Before I do,” blurted Charlie. “Where’s mom?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Apparently, she dreamt up a solution to her plot problem and just had to write it down while it was fresh. She’s been at it since 4 a.m., and I don’t see her coming down any time soon.”

“Okay…” Charlie took a deep breath and launched into the story: being sent to Penny’s camp, meeting Abby and immediately disliking her, the shoving match that led to them being sent to the brig, finding the photos from Las Vegas, Amelia telling them about their parents’ marriage, and, finally, their brilliant idea to switch places so they could meet their missing parent. “We plan on telling them the truth at the end of the week and refusing to switch back unless they meet in person.”

Nat studied her, brow furrowed and eyes never leaving her face. “What are you two hoping to achieve with this?”

Charlie bit her thumb nail and shrugged. “Best case scenario? They figure out a better custody arrangement so I’ll still get to see mom and Abby can still see dad. Dream scenario?” Charlie blushed. “Mom and dad fall back in love and we won’t need a custody arrangement at all.”

Natasha shook her head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I don’t think that dream is gonna come true. Even getting a better custody arrangement would be really difficult. Sure, there’s no global pandemic to contend with now, but trying to line up visitation while your dad runs the risk of getting deployed would make it—”

“Dad’s not getting deployed anymore,” Charlie interrupted. “He—”

“Okay, so he got promoted enough so that he’s not going to be called away from home to deal with a crisis. And trust me, there’s always some crisis or another that’ll keep your dad away from San Diego.”

“We don’t live in San Diego, Auntie Nat.”

Nat stopped rambling and looked at her. “Okay then, where do you live?”

“On the ranch in Texas with Uncle Rooster and Uncle Javy.”

Bob leaned forward. “Javy and Rooster live with you too?”

“Yeah, they retired from the Navy the same day you did. How do you guys not know this? Didn’t you keep in touch with anyone from the Dagger Squad? Mickey or Reuben or Kally?” Charlie stared at them, aghast. She’d always assumed that the members of the Dagger Squad had kept in touch with each other, even if Uncle Bob and Natasha had become mom’s support system after the divorce, same as Javy and Rooster had become dad’s.

They both slowly shook their heads. “We, uh…we kind of lost contact with everyone after we left the Navy,” Bob replied. “It all happened so fast, Charlie. We were given the option of retiring or moving on to a different unit, and that was that.”

“But why? I thought you guys were a team? A family? That’s what Aunt Penny always says! How could you just lose touch with them?”

“Because it was too damn hard, that’s why,” Natasha bit out, an unreadable look in her eyes. “Because I didn’t want to hear about them flying missions and hitting me with the “Sorry, Phoenix, but it’s classified” line whenever I ask about their work, if I ever asked about their work. Because I didn’t want their damn pity. Because it was hard enough being a female pilot, but almost losing my eye and being grounded? That was damn near unbearable.”

Charlie shrank back in her seat and nodded. “Oh…sorry.”

Bob placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Charlie. It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault, really. Sometimes it’s just easier to say goodbye and let everyone go their separate ways instead of trying to hang onto something that’s not there anymore. I tried to reach out to a few people on the team, including your dad, but they were either always deployed or their numbers weren’t reachable or their numbers had changed. That’s what happens sometimes, kiddo. That’s just life.”

Charlie bit her lip, the question she had been longing to ask pushing against her lips until she finally asked, “So…that’s what happened? It’s not that you didn’t want me? It’s that you couldn’t reach my dad?”

Bob wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Nat slid onto the couch cushion next to her, the two of them pulling her into a hug.

“Of course we wanted you, Charlie,” Nat whispered. “We missed you like crazy, kid.”

Bob pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Your mom wanted you too. And she’s going to be so happy when she finds out you’re here.”

Charlie pulled away and chanced a glance over the back of the couch towards the stairs. “I…I should go tell her.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, kiddo. You should. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Charlie stood and Natasha jabbed an elbow into Bob’s gut. “You mean, we’ll be right here if you need us.”

Charlie grinned as Bob rubbed his stomach. “Thanks guys.”

She turned and faced the stairs, feeling like her stomach was somewhere near her feet. Then, she started to climb.

Charlie stood outside her mother’s bedroom, hand poised to knock, but her stomach was still living somewhere near her feet and her hand was shaking so badly that she was afraid that she would miss the door completely when she tried to knock.

Everything was happening so quickly. Just last month, she had been an only child on a ranch full of men. Now, she was a twin with three uncles and an aunt and, most importantly, two parents who loved and wanted her. Or so Bob and Natasha had said. She knew that they loved her, but the fear that her mother would end up rejecting her was so strong that it made her want to run out of the house and hide somewhere. But she couldn’t. She had promised Bob and Natasha and besides that, she didn’t want to live somewhere she wasn’t accepted for who she was. So, if mom rejected her, she would happily go back to Texas and live a happy ever after life with her family, who was clearly trying to protect her.

Nodding determinedly at the solution she had formulated in her head, she knocked quickly on the door and stuck her head in, spotting her mother folded into her writing chair.

“Hey babe,” Buttercup yawned, tilting her computer screen down. “Sorry I didn’t come down for breakfast. I thought I solved my issues; I had this whole dream about the solution. But the characters don’t want to listen to me. I swear, Abby, it makes me want to throw in the towel.”

Charlie fiddled with her fingers as she listened. The past few days, she had loved listening to her mother talk about her stories and how she teased out the plot points, but now she felt guilt and anxiety weigh on her heart. As much as she wanted to act tough, she desperately wanted her mother to love her for her, not because she thought she was Abby.

“Mom? Can we talk about something?”

In less than a second, she watched Buttercup go from author mode to mom mode. She stood, pulled her light cotton robe over her pajamas and stretched, putting a gentle hand between her shoulder blades and steering her towards the bed.

“Of course, Abby. Hop on up and we can talk about whatever you want.”

Buttercup propped herself up against the pillows and turned her body towards Charlie, who crawled into the left side of the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest.

“I…” To her horror, Charlie felt tears well up in her eyes. She slammed them shut before any could escape and felt her hands tremble.

The mattress shifted and warm arms encircled her before Buttercup spoke. “Abby, sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“I…I don’t want you to get mad,” Charlie whimpered into her mother’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s possible for me to get mad at you,” Buttercup hummed, pulling her close and rocking her gently side to side. “Remember when you accidentally kidnapped Mr. Tomkit’s cat? You were holding poor Shadow hostage in your closet and dressing him up for tea for three days before we found out. Did I get mad then?”

Charlie’s tears streamed down her face. “I…I don’t know,” she murmured truthfully. Abby had never shared that story with her.

“Of course I didn’t,” Buttercup replied in a soft voice. “You were only six. The point is, whatever happened, an accident or a mistake, we’ll figure it out like we always do, yeah? It’s you and me, sweetheart. It always has been, and we’ve managed well so far, haven’t we?”

“B-but what if this time makes you not love me anymore?” The question leapt forth before she could stop it, the question she had been both dying to ask and too afraid of hearing the answer.

Buttercup’s hands found Charlie’s shoulders and eased her away just enough to look in her eyes. “Abigail Juliet Floyd, nothing could ever make me not love you anymore. Nothing in this whole universe. You hear me?”

“But I’m not Abby! I’m Charlie!” she sobbed, her hands raising to cover her face. “Abby and I met at camp, and she really wanted to meet dad and I really wanted to meet you, so we swapped places!” To Charlie, it was as though everything had been frozen in time. She couldn’t hear the birds chirping outside her mother’s window or Auntie Nat’s trashy tv shows playing on the tv downstairs. Nothing moved and nothing sounded in the longest minute of Charlotte Delta Seresin’s life.

And then, those warm arms wrapped around her tightly and held her close. “My baby…my sweet Charlotte…”

Charlie flung her arms around her mother and buried her head in her neck, breathing in the hibiscus and jasmine perfume and feeling the soft silk of her mother’s pajamas under her cheek. “You’re not m-mad?” Charlie whispered.

She fought her hands not to cling to her mother as she pulled away, just far enough to look at her. “How could I be mad?” Charlie’s heart clenched at the sight of the pearly tears clinging to her mother’s cheeks. “It’s really you, Charlie?”

Charlie nodded meekly, tucking her feet up underneath her. “Abby taught me everything about her life while we were at camp. She wanted to meet dad so badly, and I always dreamed of meeting you. I was so scared to tell you because I was afraid you left me because you didn’t want me…”

Buttercup’s gentle fingers traced over her daughter’s features, sadness filling her eyes. “I’ve loved you and wanted you since before you were even born, Charlie,” she whispered. “I…I’m so sorry we failed you, love. It’s no excuse, but this was never supposed to be permanent. We just let time get away from us, I suppose. But please…you need to know that I missed you every single day, sweetpea. I love you so much.”

Charlie let herself relax into Buttercup’s arms, her tears slowing and her breathing steadying. “I love you too, mom.”

A few hours later, the three Floyds and their honorary fourth member sat clustered around Buttercup’s computer, a Zoom call open in front of them as they waited for the call to be answered.

“I still can’t believe you knew before I did. A mother is supposed to know her own children,” Buttercup worried her lower lip as she stared at Bob, on the other side of Charlie.

“In Charlie’s defence, she really pulled the act together once she got to the house,” Bob replied. “And in your defence, you do know your children. It might have just been too difficult for you to even try to rationalize that the girl in front of you might not be Abby.” Bob shot Buttercup a meaningful look as the dark screen in front of them suddenly filled with colour.

“Uncle Roo, you need to back up,” they heard Abby gripe. “They can only see your shirt right now.”

Rooster backed up and sat in a chair behind a desk, Abby perched next to him.

“Hey, old man,” Natasha teased.

Bradley huffed slightly, a light smile dancing across his face. “Hey yourself, Phoenix. Hey Buttercup.”

Buttercup’s face filled with fondness. “Hey Bradley, how are you?”

He shrugged as the pixels danced across the screen. “Can’t complain. How’s my girl? Ow! Sorry, Jesus. I mean, how’s my other girl?” he shot a glare at Abby, who grinned back at him.

“Hey Uncle Roo,” Charlie beamed at him through the camera. “Hey Abby!”

“Hey Charlie, hey Auntie Nat! Hey Uncle Bob, Charlie told me you figured it out right away!”

Bob nodded once and pushed his glasses up. “You’re one of a kind, Abby. No emulating it.”

“Damn, you figured it out right away?” Rooster whistled through his teeth. “It took me a couple of days to figure it out. You two never thought to teach your girl about American football? Javy thought she got a brain transplant at camp.”

Buttercup and Bob chuckled but Natasha remained suspiciously silent as Charlie filled them in on how life was in England and Abby filled them in on all the Texas goings on.

“…and dad’s engaged to this dreadful woman who wants to go wedding venue shopping on Saturday!” Abby groaned.

“Abby,” Buttercup admonished. “You just met this woman. Give her time to adjust. I’m sure it was quiet something when your father told her that his daughters had switched places.”

“Oh, well, actually…” Abby started.

“Yeah, she didn’t take it that great, Buttercup,” Bradley cut in, giving Abby a little nudge with his elbow. “Remember, kid?”

“Oh…uh…yeah. She didn’t take it that well at all.”

Charlie would blame the emotional day for the fact that her mother didn’t pick up on the strange behaviour behind the screen at all.

“So, give her some time, and she’ll…she’ll come around,” Buttercup gulped slightly and reached for her bottle of water.

“Yeah, I’m sure she will,” Rooster rolled his eyes. “Why don’t y’all come to Texas for the weekend? We’re stayin’ at some fancy hotel in Austin for the weekend while Savannah looks around at different venues. She wanted to make it a weekend getaway. But you guys should come so you and Hangman can figure out an arrangement that keeps these two from pulling a Trading Places again.”

Buttercup was chewing on her bottom lip again. “I…I don’t know. It’s supposed to be a wedding related trip. I wouldn’t feel comfortable crashing it.”

“You wouldn’t be crashing it,” Rooster replied. “Jake invited you. He wants to figure out a solution too, before the wedding.”

Buttercup sighed heavily, the breath tinged with sadness. “Yeah…yeah, that makes sense. Bob, can you—”

“I’ll clear my schedule so I can go with you, and I’ll book our flights there,” Bob replied, his phone already in his hand.

Buttercup smiled gratefully. “Natasha—”

“I’ll keep in contact with the old man and make sure we book the right hotel,” Natasha replied, fixing Rooster with a glare that would have paralyzed him if they were in the same time zone.

Buttercup sighed resignedly. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll all see you on Saturday.”

“See you then, Buttercup,” Rooster winked.

“Bye mum! I love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Rooster whipped around as a voice rang out behind them. “Mum? Buttercup? Dude, what the hell is—”

“Gotta go, mum! Bye!” Abby shouted as she slammed the laptop screen down, cutting off the call.

“Well, that wasn’t ominous at all,” Natasha muttered.

Buttercup’s worried face reflected back at her on the darkened screen. “Oh god…what have I gotten myself into?”

Rooster glared at Javy. “Nice going, dipshit.”

“What? Me? Who the hell were you talking to on that call, man? Because I only know one Buttercup and—”

“And what, Uncle Javy?” Abby blinked up at him innocently. “Who is Buttercup?”

Javy gaped at her. “She…uh…she’s, um…”

Rooster rolled his eyes. “Cut the guy some slack, would ya, Abby?”

Abby’s grin widened as Javy’s mouth dropped even further. “Nah…man, there ain’t no way…”

“You didn’t think it was suspicious that Penny wouldn’t quit pesterin’ us both until we got Hangman to agree to send Charlie to camp on that specific day? You don’t think it’s weird that Lovebug treats her like she’s a stranger? You never noticed that your favourite assistant coach knows jack all about football now?”

Javy crouched down in front of her. “You’re not Charlie, are you?” Abby shook her head and Javy’s eyes welled with tears. “C-can I hug you, darlin’?” Abby nodded with a smile, and she was suddenly scooped up into a massive hug. “Oh my god, man…this is unbelievable!”

“What’s unbelievable?”

The three turned to see Jake standing behind them in the doorway of the office, his arms folded across his chest.

“Hey, man,” Rooster greeted. “What’s up?”

“Was just coming to try to find my daughter.”

Abby gulped. She hadn’t really spoken to her father since her blow up at the news of his engagement. The news still weighed heavily on her, but Rooster’s plan would work, she just knew it. Plus, she would get to see her mum soon, and that always made her feel better.

“H-hey, dad.”

Jake’s face softened. “Hey Charlie, I was hoping we could have a chat before dinner. Just you and me.”

Javy opened his mouth and Abby pinched him hard on the shoulder blade, out of view of her father.

“Sure, dad. I think that’s a good idea. Can you put me down, Uncle Javy?” Javy hesitated but Abby begged him with her eyes not to blow this for them, and he conceded.

“Sure…Charlie.”

Abby smiled at him as she went to her father’s side.

“We’ll see y’all at dinner, alright?” Jake nodded at them as he let the office door close behind him.

“Alright, dude, you’re gonna tell me what’s goin’ on right now, or I swear to god, I’m telling Jake why that pair of men’s boxer shorts were hanging outside his window.”

“Relax, Coyote,” Rooster sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. “You and me are gonna have a lot of fun with Hangman this weekend.”

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callsign-muffin · 26 days

Text

Heal Together: Chapter 1

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I've been lurking on here for a while, reading Top Gun fics and I recently got inspired to write one of my own. Hopefully someone reads it and likes it!

Note about the format: Between every header is a change in the point of view :)

Summery: When Rooster was med-evaced back to San Diego from the mission field, the last thing he expected was to wake up with a tube down his throat and the most beautiful woman he's ever seen at his bedside.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

“Hey Carly, I’m taking over for room 4 today. Are you ready to give report?” You ask the cute blonde night shift nurse, she looked about 12 years old. What in the hell was she doing in the ICU of a military hospital? Hell, you should be asking yourself the same question. You hated it here at this boys club where nurses were ignored as a female dominated profession, despite being the people who spend the most amount of time at the patient’s bedside in a 12 hour stretch. But you were only one week into this eight week travel assignment and the money was great, so you just had to grin and bear it and make as few enemies as possible.

“The census is low, is this gonna be your only patient?” She asked.

“Yeah.” You pulled out your report sheet and pen, “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

You could tell Carly was fresh off of orientation by how nervous she looked before beginning to speak.

“Hey,” You placed a comforting hand on her knee, “take your time, tell me what you know, and if I have any questions I’ll ask them when you’re done. You just finished a long shift, it’s okay to be a little out of it. We’ll get all the info we need together. No pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” Carly nodded and took a deep breath, “This is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, 35 year old male, full code, no known allergies…”

You quietly took down the pertinent information about Lt. Bradshaw as Carly spoke. He was a pilot, recovered after a crash, and was stitched back together pretty well on the aircraft carrier, he went septic and was transported back to the states to your hospital. Pretty standard stuff. He was currently on a ventilator for breathing support but all seemed to be going in a positive direction despite the shitty circumstances.

Carly finished her report with a sigh of relief, you had a feeling the staff nurses weren’t as respectful when receiving report from a new graduate. “Any questions?”

“Any family at the bedside?” You asked.

“No, no family. Apparently a guy named Pete Mitchell calls daily for updates, they’re not related but he’s included on the patient’s medical information release forms, so we can talk to him. Chart says he’s single, no siblings, and both parents have passed away.” Carly yawned, she was beginning to fade after a long night. You didn’t want to hold her up anymore than necessary, she needed to get home and go to bed.

“Okay,” You clicked your pen, “Sounds good. Let’s go check lines and meds so you can get out of here.”

She paused for a second as you got up from your chair at the nurses station, “Y/N… thank you for being so nice… I’m only a week off of orientation and things are still so new…”

You smiled at the compliment, “We’ve all been there. Every nurse on this unit was new at one point and I think sometimes they forget that. Hell, I’m a traveler and this is only my second week and there’s so much that’s new to me too. You’re doing great.”

You spent the first part of your morning before rounds with the care team just cleaning up the patient, organizing the room, all that good stuff. Though it wasn’t necessarily considered “professional”, you played some music softly from your phone as you worked. You found that music or just talking to patients on vents helped with agitation. You couldn’t imagine anything more tortuous than listening to repetitive beeping and alarms all day long and nothing else. Though most managers didn’t like it, that didn’t stop you. What were they gonna do? Fire you? Hospitals hire travelers at such a high price point when they’re understaffed and desperate. They needed you more than you needed them.

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“When the sun goes down, we’ll be groovin’

When the sun goes down, we’ll feel alright

When the sun sinks down over the water

Everything is hotter when the sun goes down…”

Who the fuck listens to Kenny Chesney anymore? Rooster thought to himself.

He knew he was sick, the docs on the ship told him that before they knocked him out to shove the tube down his throat. They told him he’d be med-evaced back to San Diego because the hospital where he was overseas didn’t have the capabilities to take care of someone as sick as him. He didn’t know how long he had been there, all the days run together when you’re too weak to open your eyes. He was used to having things done to him, he was past the point of getting agitated about it, because he knew they’d just sedate him more.

“Alright, Bradshaw.” A confident voice said, “All of your lines are untangled, your room is clean, and your initial assessment is done… How about we have a little spa day? You’re smellin’ a little… ripe.”

RUDE!

“HA! You can hear me! You raised your eyebrows!” She giggled, damn it was a cute giggle. Rooster honestly hadn’t realized he was moving his face. But he believed her because that’s what his face usually does when he’s surprised. “You’ve been caught. No more playing dumb.”

Water started running, splashing, and the suction was turned on… that sound usually meant his mouth was gonna get cleaned and he was gonna feel something funny down his throat. He hated it.

“Carly told me you were getting agitated during mouth care last night. Since you can hear me, I’m going to tell you everything I’m doing, so don’t get sassy with me.” She said, “Deal?”

Anything for the first person not to treat me like a damn vegetable. This was the first time someone actually talked to him and told him what the fuck was happening since he got here. It was a welcome change.

The kind yet sassy voice interrupted his thoughts, “Okay, mouth care. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She didn’t lie to him, she was quick and the stupid suction caused him minimal discomfort. Maybe it was because he could brace himself, or maybe it was because she was just really good at her job.

“I’m about to give you a full body bath, so how about we get to know each other a little bit.” She said as she adjusted his sheets and pillows to reposition him, placing a towel under his head, and rinsing his hair with warm water.

Rooster’s whole body relaxed.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m obviously your nurse today and will probably be for the next few days…” Nurse Y/N went on about where she’s from, her hobbies, how she’s not making many friends in this new hospital she’s been contracted out to.

Welcome to the military, it’s a boy’s club. He wished he could say that to her. He imagined medicine was similar to aviation, full of egos.

Before Rooster knew it, his whole body had been washed from head to toe. He hadn’t felt this clean in what felt like years.

“So Lieutenant… not to be crude but… I gotta clean your bits. But at least we’ve really gotten to know each other.” Nurse Y/N said, “Your girlfriend will thank me later.”

Ha! Rooster laughed to himself, What girlfriend?! My dick hasn’t been played with in months!

Like with the mouth care, her cleaning was quick and respectful. And damn, being clean felt so good. She went on to change his gown, sheets, and blankets. Rooster truly felt like a new man.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, you’ve never looked better.” She said with a satisfied sigh.

That’s a damn lie, but I’ll take the compliments wherever I can get them at this point.

“Hey Y/N,” Another female voice said, “They’re starting with you for rounds. Are you ready to present your patient or should I stall?”

“Nah, I’m ready. Tell them to come in whenever.” Nurse Y/N said, then her voice got low and she whispered to Bradley, “I’m gonna try to get them to lighten your sedation and move towards trials of turning the ventilator off. It’s not gonna be comfortable but the sooner we start working towards getting that tube out of your throat, the sooner you can get the hell out of here.”

Rooster wanted to make sure she knew he heard her and that he was on board, it took every ounce of strength in his body, but he nodded.

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“No way.” The resident physician said simply after you gave your recommendation with your presentation of Lt. Bradshaw

You were dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean no?!, “This patient was more than ready to move towards extubation.”

“And what makes you the expert?” the resident asked.

Oh lord, this fresh out of med school asshole was turning rounds into a dick measuring contest.

“The fact that I’ve been at his bedside for the past three and a half hours, I assessed him, bathed him, turned him, and he is showing signs of progress. The next step is spontaneous breathing trials and extubation. The longer he stays on the vent, the more likely he is to get pneumonia, as we all should know, Doctor.” You explained coolly but made sure to add his (probably newly earned) title.

“I agree with…” The attending looked at you and scanned your badge, “... Y/N… What do you think from a Respiratory Therapy standpoint, Brent?” He looked over at Brent, the RT.

Brent smirked and narrowed his eyes at the resident, “I also think moving towards extubation is a good thing. If he has two successful trials, he could be off the vent by the end of the day.”

The attending physician nodded, “Then it’s a plan. And I think this is a really good lesson for the residents and medical students with us on rounds, the nurses know more about the patient than we do. We should always consider their recommendations because they have the most valuable view on the patient, simply because they spend time with them.”

You tried to dim the glow that was on your face.

“Thanks, Dr…” You scanned the attending’s badge the same way he did yours.

“Carter, Brendan Carter.” He extended his hand and you shook it, “Glad to have you here.”

That was the most welcome anyone had made you feel in the last week here. Who would’ve thought a wrinkly old attending doctor with dancing eyes would be the person to stand up for you and make you feel secure in your clinical decision making.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Rooster wasn’t sure how much time had gone by since Nurse Y/N told him she was turning down his sedatives but it felt like he could open his eyes almost instantly. It was so… bright. Once his eyes adjusted, he scanned his surroundings, the lights weren’t even on but the sun shining through the large window felt blinding. He looked to his left and saw the machine that the tube in his throat was attached to, the machine that had kept him alive for God knows how long. He looked to his right and saw multiple IV poles that attached him to lines and lines of medicine and fluid. Further to his right, he saw a woman standing at a computer, typing away furiously, her face was serious yet beautiful, was that Nurse Y/N?

“Good morning, Lt. Bradshaw.” She said quietly, “You’re still attached to your breathing tube, so you can’t talk. Now that you’re awake we’re one step closer to getting you off that thing. Sound good?”

Rooster nodded slowly, wishing he could thank her for everything. For talking to him, bathing him, treating him like a human-being.

“Do you feel strong enough to write?” She asked, “Can I get you a whiteboard?”

He nodded again.

“I’ll be right back.” She swiftly left the room.

Rooster couldn’t help but love watching her walk away. Along with a beautiful face, he could tell she had a great body hiding underneath those scrubs. It had been so long since he’d seen a pretty girl.

She returned quickly with a whiteboard and a marker, handing it to him, “What’s on your mind Lieutenant?”

Call me Bradley. He scribbled,

“Nice to meet you Bradley.” She smiled down at him, “How are ya feelin’?”

Better now that I’m clean and awake. He wrote.

“There’s something healing about a bath and being taken out of your drug induced sleep, huh?” She giggled.

Rooster nodded and started writing again, Thank you for everything.

“No biggie. I’m glad to see you doing so well. Is it okay if I do a full assessment on you, just since you’re awake now?” She asked.

He nodded, this girl could do anything she wanted to him. She was basically his angel.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x y/n #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

#pluralistic #intermediation #disintermediation #publishing #creative labor #middlemen #distributors #publishers #publicists #enshittification #monopoly #monopsony #crad kilodney #trustbusting #antitrust

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

This Love Came Back to Me (12)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Twelve Word Count: 6K

Part Eleven :: Series Masterlist

----

You felt almost hungover waking up on Monday morning, but you supposed that was to be expected after a week away. The relaxation you felt in the mountains was slowly but surely coiling back up to a thick cord of tension, made only easier by the man beside you. You were meeting Sadie for coffee near her office that morning, and he held your hand in his the entire drive, singing along to his 80’s playlist softly under his breath.

The tall, dark haired woman greeted you both warmly with a vibrant pink folder in her hand. You tried not to be annoyed at how your name was written on the label. Your whole life and this whole situation was shrunk down to what would fit on a few pieces of 8.5 x 11 inch paper. It was a strange, unsettling feeling.

Bradley let you do most of the talking, a supportive hand on your knee. The woman his best friend was besotted with read through the texts he had saved and all that had come in yesterday with a critical eye.

“Well,” she said, a touch of sarcasm etched in her tone, “he’s certainly not doing himself any favors, is he?” Sadie flipped through the folder, pausing to jot down notes on one of the blank forms. She set her pen down when she was done, leaning back in her chair and sipping on her coffee. "If we can prove that he's been harassing you, I think we have a shot at the restraining order. I know it was disappointing not to get the emergency order, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get it when we go to court, okay?"

You nodded slowly, trying to grasp onto the hope she was dangling in front of you. “Do we know when that is?”

“We should hear something this week about a date, and he’ll be served the papers once a date is set.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the thought of that happening, and Bradley must have caught it, because he squeezed your knee in reassurance before he started talking. “So what does she do between now and then?”

From across the table, Sadie shrugged and gave you a smile you knew was meant to be reassuring. She addressed you directly in her answer. “If he continues to reach out to you, document it all, but don’t respond to him. If you see him, try not to engage. Don’t give him a reason to think any of it is consensual or that you’re encouraging it. And I know it may be hard, but other than that…just try and live your life as normally as you can. I’ll handle the legal stuff. You focus on you.”

You snapped the hair tie on your wrist once you were back in the passenger seat of the Bronco. You stared out the window as Bradley drove through mid-morning San Diego traffic toward one of the retail districts nearby, mulling over everything Sadie had said. She had been so insistent that this wasn’t your fault, and that you had a solid case, despite the judge’s first glance at your application not being enough. It felt good knowing you had someone in your corner like her, who knew the ins and outs of this kind of process.

But your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about what she said about documenting every time he reached out to you and how it could ultimately help. You glanced down at the phone sitting in the cupholder. You had blocked every number Paul had contacted you from. You had even taken the initiative in blocking his email account, too. You were en route to get a new phone number. Now, though, you were wondering if you had jumped the gun in all of that.

You liked to believe that getting a brand new number would mean that Paul wouldn’t be able to reach you. But if him reaching you could ultimately help you, to provide you with something tangible to use to take action against him….

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe it had gotten to the point where you were really considering letting this happen.

Bradley reached across the seat to squeeze your hand, startling you. You were so lost in thought that you hardly noticed that he had pulled into a parking space in front of the cell phone carrier store. He must have clocked the change in your expression when you turned to look at him by the way his changed, too.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You tried to figure out how to articulate what it was that you were feeling without making it seem like you had lost it completely.

“Is this the best idea?” you finally settled on, and when your boyfriend asked you what you meant, you pushed forward. “Sadie said that anything he does can be used against him, to help prove he’s been…” you cut yourself off as the word popped in your head. It had been said earlier, and you knew deep down that’s exactly what it was. But saying that S word made it that much realer to you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it just yet. “To help prove he’s been doing everything he has. And if..If I disconnect my number, isn’t that almost like, I don’t know, getting rid of an opportunity?”

He didn’t respond right away, but his grip on your hand tightened just the tiniest bit, and the thumb on his other hand tapped a quick rhythm against the steering wheel he was still holding. Those thick eyebrows of his that you loved so much furrowed together as he processed your jumbled explanation of feelings. Finally, he let go of your hand and reached to take the keys out of the ignition, killing the engine. He nodded toward the store in front of you.

“Let’s go inside. I have an idea.”

He was out of the Bronco before you could protest, and you hurried after him, confused. He held his hand out to you from the sidewalk.

“Bradley, what are we doing?” you asked, tugging him to a stop before you could get to the door of the store. He looked at you with what you could only describe as a determined look, touched with something close to desperation.

“Just trust me, okay? And please don’t say no.”

His words left you even more confused, but there was something about his eyes and the feeling he was emanating that you couldn’t help but nod.

He held the door open for you and you were approached by a salesman almost immediately, and before you could say anything when he asked if there was something he could help you with, Bradley was speaking up.

“I was hoping to add a new phone and number to my plan.”

“Of course. What’d you have in mind?”

He looked down to you with that same determined look on his face, but it was softer now. His smile was small but reassuring, and he squeezed the hand still held in his.

“Pick out what you want.”

“B….”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could hear the words he spoke into your hair, only for you. “This way you can keep the other one on but not have to worry about dealing with it. Because you’re right, it could be useful. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you put up with the stress of seeing it everyday. Please, Bug. Let me do this for you.”

You knew how much Bradley cared for you, but this was a big gesture. You had never been one to accept help easily, especially not financially, and part of you felt that getting a new phone on his plan would be too much. It took you a moment, but eventually, you swallowed the protest that was ready on your lips. When you nodded, you both felt and heard the sigh of relief that he let out.

You knew how supportive of your independence he was, but you wondered if sometimes what he needed was for you to let him do things like this.

Picking something out was fairly simple, just going with an upgraded version of what you already had. You stood together at the counter as everything was set up and added, Bradley signing the necessary paperwork. You wrapped both your arms around one of his, pressing a kiss into his clothed bicep. You let your eyes flutter closed and breathed in the scent of him. He always had a way of calming your nerves and making you feel safe, even in the midst of chaos. You weren’t really sure what you did to deserve him, but you wanted to hold onto him forever.

____

Sadie called you on Thursday, about an hour before you were scheduled for a phone interview for the job you were crossing your fingers for, to let you know that your court date had been set for 3 weeks out. You spent the next thirty minutes trying to breathe through the panic that settled on your chest like a semi-truck. Tears stung in your eyes, wondering how the hell your life had gotten to this point. Then your phone buzzed with a text from Bradley, and you couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped you.

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: You got this, baby! Proud of you. Have a great interview.

He always had a way of knowing exactly when you needed him, even if he didn’t realize it. You wanted to tell him about the court date, to seek that additional comfort that you knew he would provide you without question. But you remembered what both he and Sadie had told you earlier in the week, about living as normally as possible, and you knew they were right. You couldn’t let this ruin the possibilities in front of you. You wouldn’t.

You typed out a response as you forced some of the anxiety out, taking exaggerated breaths to combat it until eventually, it worked.

I love you, B.

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: Love you, Bug. Go get ‘em.

Despite the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm you right before the interview, you did go get ‘em, just like Bradley had said. You got an email about coming in for an in person interview less than two hours after you had hung up the phone, and it was the following Friday that found you sitting on the couch, waiting for Bradley to get home. You were practically vibrating with excitement by the time he finally walked through the door. He didn’t even get a chance to take his keys out of the lock before you were jumping up.

“I got the job!” you blurted out.

Bradley looked startled for a second, no doubt at how sudden and loud you spoke, and his forehead crinkled like he wondered what you were talking about before it clicked. His dark eyes widened and a grin started making its way onto his face as he dropped his bag and hurried to where you were standing in the living room of the apartment. “You got it?”

You nodded rapidly, your giddy smile so large that it was making your cheeks hurt. “I got it.”

Bradley yelled your name in excitement right before he swept you off your feet. You giggled as he spun you around, feeling weightless in his strong arms. “I knew you could do it!” Eventually, he set you down, but he didn’t let you go far. He pulled you flush against him in a tight embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, Bug," he said, his voice conveying just how truthful he was being. “You deserve this.”

You leaned into him, feeling safe and loved and happy in his arms. "Thank you,” you murmured, accepting the kiss that he placed on your lips.

“We should celebrate,” he said. “Order in something delicious? Open another bottle of wine we got in San Bernardino?”

That sounded lovely, and you absolutely wanted to do that. But aside from the meeting with Sadie almost two weeks ago and the in person interview that you had two days prior, you hadn’t left Bradley’s apartment since you got back from the cabin. You were hiding away, whether you admitted it or not. You didn’t want to do that anymore.

“Let’s go out.”

If Bradley was surprised, he didn’t show it. He didn’t ask if you were sure, or if you thought it was a good idea. He searched your eyes for nothing more than a moment before he was squeezing your hip and nodding.

He trusted you enough to know that if you said it’s what you wanted, you meant it. And that meant more than you could ever say.

You enjoyed dinner out at one of your favorite Mexican restaurants, sipping a margarita and eating your weight in chips and queso and spicy tacos. Bradley sat close to you in the booth, finishing off your plate when you couldn’t eat anymore, and you spent the entire meal laughing and flirting with one another like a regular date should be. And when you were done, you made your way to the Hard Deck. You had shot off a text to some of your friends while Bradley did the same to his before dinner, and you were ecstatic when you spotted Anna already amongst the rest of the aviators. You met her with a hug, and when she introduced you to her boyfriend, you were pleasantly surprised when Bradley already seemed to know him.

“We’ve been deployed together before. He’s a good guy,” he told you once the two had made their way over to the bar for refills, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face at how things seemed to be falling into place.

You greeted the rest of Bradley’s friends with the same enthusiasm, genuinely glad to see them.You hugged Jake and Javy a little harder, whispering a soft thank you to them. You had never gotten the opportunity to do so after they had went and got your car out of that parking lot all those weeks ago, but both of them just shrugged it off like it was nothing. You knew that everyone probably was aware of what was going on with you, at least to a certain extent, but you appreciated so much how they didn’t seem to look or treat you any differently than they had before.

Bradley slipped a drink into your hand as you mingled with both of your friends. He was a warm presence at your back, his arm wrapped around you with one of his fingers hooked into the belt loop at the front of your jeans. You tilted your head back to look at him with a smile, and he clinked the rim of his beer bottle against the side of your glass. “Here’s to you, baby,” he murmured into your ear, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that went through your body. When Jake and Bob roped him into a game of pool at the tables not too far away a few minutes later, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before walking off.

You spent some time with Anna and her boyfriend, and talked with Mickey about the latest true crime documentary that you both had watched. It was after your dart had literally embedded itself into the wall when you were playing with Javy that you said you needed a break. There were tears in your eyes from how hard you were laughing, and your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent smile that had been on your face all night. Bradley was still enthralled at the pool table, so with a look in his direction, you headed to the bar by yourself for another refill. It wasn’t long before a shoulder was bumping into yours. When you looked over, you smiled in recognition at the dark haired woman beside you. You had greeted her earlier, but hadn’t really had the time for conversation before you were both pulled in opposite directions.

“How are you?” Sadie asked. You thought about your day for a moment, how light and at ease you felt.

“I’m good,” you answered honestly, “It’s been a really great day.”

“I heard Bradley tell Natasha that you got that new job you were vying for - congratulations! You deserve it.”

You felt the excitement hit you all over again at her words, and you knew your smile must look ridiculous at this point as you thanked her.

“I’m glad to finally have something else, you know? This new place genuinely seems great, and it comes with a lot of opportunity.”

“Better than the toxic mess you’re at now?”

You snorted, and it said a lot that not even the mention of your current job brought down your mood. Instead you tilted the freshly refilled glass in your hand in her direction. She set a hand on your wrist for a moment, and you could sense by the look in her eye that she was going to bring up something else about that situation before she even spoke.

“Paul was successfully served his papers about you petitioning for a restraining order,” she told you, and you felt your breath hitch. She heard it too and shook her head. “This is a good thing. It means we’re one step closer to stopping him for good. That’s something to celebrate, too.”

You considered her words for a moment, and you weren’t sure if it was the drinks or just the energy of the night, but you found that part of you actually agreed with her. The mention of his name didn’t immediately make you feel like you were going to spiral, or stir up the same helpless feelings it normally did. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel much of anything at all. You were indifferent in a way that you hadn’t been before. So when Penny slid Sadie her own new drink, you raised your glass to hers, and you toasted to getting this whole thing over with.

Not too much later, you wandered out through the side doors. It was getting hot inside the bar, and the cool night air was blissfully refreshing against your skin. It was surprisingly empty out on the deck, and you appreciated the solitude as you leant against the railing, looking out at the ocean. It was dark, but you could see the dark water and hear it crashing in the distance. You could still hear all the chatter and the juke box from inside the bar floating out, but it was muted, a reminder of where you were while still allowing you the peace and quiet.

The door opened behind you a minute later, and a smile tugged at your lips as Bradley’s deep, raspy voice filled your ears, alerting you to his presence.

“Hey, you. What are you doing out here?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind once he made it to where you were standing. A content noise escaped your throat as you settled back into his chest and laid your own hands over his at your waist. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m good,” you promised, “Just wanted some air. Was getting hot in there with all of those people.”

You knew he’d know enough to guess that meant it was both the physical temperature, as well as your tendency to need a break from large crowds. It got too much for you sometimes, and on occasion, you just needed a few minutes by yourself to recenter and finish out the night. He hummed in response, and you knew he understood.

You stood there together for a few long moments, not saying anything. You weren’t sure if it was a conscious movement, but he swayed your bodies slightly to the music floating out from inside the bar, some oldies tune that you weren’t sure the name of but you thought you had heard before - probably with him, no doubt. You relished just being in his arms like this. Eventually, though, he broke the peaceful silence.

“Sadie told me something earlier,” he said, and you could hear the hesitancy in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he should have brought it up before. You made a hum of recognition, nodding your head without looking at him.

“Yeah, she told me too. About the papers.”

Bradley paused as he seemed to gather what it was he wanted to say, so you continued on before he stressed over it too much, squeezing his forearm. “It’s okay. Surprisingly, I felt nothing when she told me. She said it’s something to celebrate because we’re one step closer to getting all of this over with, and I think I agree with her. That has to count as progress, right?”

There was a beat of quiet as your words hung in the air before Bradley murmured your name softly. “Look at me?” he asked.

At his request, you turned to face him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and toyed with the hair on the back of his head like you loved to do. He looked at you with a soft smile, his eyes shining.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” he spoke gently, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your face. You could feel the heat of affection creep up at his words. You weren’t really sure how to respond. His pride meant a lot to you. Truthfully, everything he did meant a lot. He had always been there for you, even that first night when he had no idea what was going on. He was unwavering in his support and you knew you would be in a completely different situation right now if he wasn’t by your side. You needed him, more than you ever thought possible.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol lowering your inhibitions or the emotions hitting you all of a sudden, or maybe a combination of both, but you found yourself feeling bold, craving him in a way that made your heart race.

"Bradley," you whispered, almost like you wanted to share a secret with him. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything," he replied, one hand slipping down your back and into the back pocket of your jeans as the other stayed on your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.

"I love you so much," you said, feeling the words spill out of your mouth without thinking.

Bradley's smile grew wider, pink dusting his cheeks. "I love you too, Bug. More than anything."

Feeling emboldened by his words, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, but quickly became more passionate as the heat between you intensified. You couldn't get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same way. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer before he backed the both of you up into the railing behind you. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body react. It was like your nerve endings were on fire.

He pulled away, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he looked down at you. His brown eyes were darkened with what was so blatantly desire, and you loved that he didn’t try to shy away from it.

“Bug…”

“I think I’d like to go home now,” you told him, your mind already made up. You pressed kisses into his jaw and down his neck as he groaned into the open night air.

“Yeah,” he rasped, squeezing your butt through your pants before lifting you into his arms. You squealed as your legs wrapped around his waist and he started toward the parking lot. You didn’t even think about needing to go and say goodbye to all of your friends. “Home sounds like a good idea.”

___

You weren’t slated to start at your new job until the following month, but Bradley convinced you that it wasn’t worth having any ties to the company that had caused all of the strife currently in your life for any longer. Your PTO was going to run out in the middle of the following week, and it was decided that you wouldn’t be going back at all. Not submitting a full two week notice was normally something that would make you feel guilty, but after the way they all treated you, you found you didn’t care all that much about how they would react. They were lucky you were going to do it in person to begin with.

“I still think you should just send an email,” Bradley told you, his voice ringing through your car’s bluetooth as you drove toward your soon to be old office. It was late on a Wednesday afternoon, so traffic was light.

“Dropping off my laptop and badge in person means I cut ties quicker,” you rebutted, just like you had done since you told him your plan. You had logged onto your work email last night just to put a meeting on Gretchen’s calendar for this afternoon, for the sole purpose of handing in your things and telling her you quit in person. You got a shot of amusement at imagining what her face was going to look like when you did.

Bradley had wanted to accompany you for all of it, had hated the idea of you going to the office without him, in fact, but he hadn’t been able to slip away from his own work. He had tried to get you to wait until the next day, but you were stubborn. You wanted to get this over with.

Bradley sighed on the other end, and you knew that was his concession. “Call me when you’re done?”

“Of course, B.”

Nerves twisted in your stomach as you made your way inside the building and pressed the button for the correct floor in the elevator. You took a deep, slow breath when the doors shut, trying to calm your beating heart. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you supposed it was normal.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself. You cracked your neck and pushed your shoulders back when the elevator doors slid open, revealing the lobby you had become familiar with for the last year. You walked down the hallway with purpose, and you could feel stares as you did. You knew the majority of your team - Paul included - were in a meeting right now, based on the shared calendars you had taken a look at. But that didn’t mean others wouldn’t look just as hard. You knocked on Gretchen’s door with a firm fist, and she had barely started saying “come in” when you were twisting the knob and opening the door.

She sat behind her desk, her blonde hair as pinstraight as always, and a perfectly manicured nail tapped against her crossed arms. A single eyebrow was raised, and her face just screamed condescension. Any guilt you may have harbored left you as soon as you saw her, and you set your laptop and your badge on her desk with a clank.

“I quit.”

The unpleasant, sour look that Gretchen’s face twisted into stayed with you as you made your way from her office and over to HR, and then all the way back to the elevator, too. You were practically floating at how satisfied you felt. You were so proud of yourself, and so damn relieved for finally being done with this place. You had said your peace and then some, and now you were done. It was a long overdue feeling.

You pulled your phone out once you were in the elevator, and your grin was so persistently large that you thought it’d get stuck there. Bradley picked up almost immediately, and you were sure he had been waiting for your call.

“How’d it go?”

“Gretchen looked like a Warhead got stuck in her throat, and I have never felt so satisfied about causing those feelings in someone.”

Your boyfriend barked out a laugh on the other end, and the sound just made you smile wider. “She deserves it. I’m proud of you, baby.”

You didn’t think you would ever get tired of hearing his praise. It caused a warmth to spread through your whole entire body, and you were already ready to be back in his presence again. You got your keys out of your bag as you walked out of the building and into the parking lot. “Thanks, B. Are you still meeting me at the house?”

That had been the other part of your plan today. You were going to kill two birds with one stone and go to the house and pack up more of your stuff, as the end of your lease was rapidly approaching. Since he hadn’t been able to come with you, instead, you had agreed that he would meet you at the house after you left the office to help. You knew, also, that he didn’t like the idea of you being there on your own. Truthfully, you didn’t either, so you were glad for his insistence.

“I’m packing up to leave and head in that direction in the next five minutes.”

“Alright. I’m going to go to the store and grab some boxes and tape and stuff, and then I’ll head that way. You might beat me there.”

“That’s fine,” he assured you, and with how quick he said it, you were sure that was actually his preference. You felt yourself soften a little bit. You knew he hated not being with you right now.

“I’ll text you when I leave the store,” you promised him as you unlocked your car. “Hey, B?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

You pulled out of the parking lot once you had hung up with him, and you were so focused on the elation you had been feeling and what you needed to do that night, that you hadn’t even seen who else had been in the parking lot with you.

___

You didn’t spend any more time than necessary in the store, simply running in and grabbing what you needed. Your trunk and backseat were full of boxes and packing supplies, and you shot a text off to Bradley as you had promised once you slid into the front seat. He called you when you were pulling into the neighborhood.

“There was an accident or something on the freeway,” he told you, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Traffic’s backed up, so I’m still like 15 minutes out.”

“No worries,” you reassured him, “I’m almost there. I can get started.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Bradley sounded hesitant when he finally spoke again. “Bug…wait for me to go inside, please.”

“B…”

He must have heard the argument in your voice, because he was quick to continue, the words rushing out. “I know I’m probably just being paranoid and overprotective. But humor me, please? Just wait for me. I should be there soon.”

You pulled into the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for much longer and put the car in park. You knew where he was coming from. Truly, you did. You knew that he had every right to feel that way, and you felt warm at him wanting to protect you.

Bradley let out a sigh of relief when you finally murmured your agreement to stay put. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be there soon okay? I love you.”

“I love you too. See you in a few.”

You hung up the phone and rested your head back against the seat, figuring you might as well get comfortable. You scrolled through your social media aimlessly for a few minutes, but the longer you sat there, the more restless you became. You were eager to get inside and start packing. The quicker you did that, the quicker you would be able to get out of this place for good. A quick glance at your clock said that it was nearing 5pm now, and you knew that there was always a team meeting at this time that Paul would be in. There was no chance.

From when you hung up with him, you figured Bradley would be there in five, ten minutes, tops.

It would be fine.

With that in mind, you grabbed your keys and got out of the car. You grabbed some of the boxes from the trunk and made your way to the front door. You felt the familiar anxiety settle over you as you fumbled with the lock, but you figured it was normal - expected, really, all things considered.

It would be fine.

It was quiet when you walked inside. The air felt almost stale inside, stifling, and there was a weird smell that made your nose scrunch. The eerie quiet sent a shiver down your spine. The first order of business would be hooking your phone up to the bluetooth speaker to surround you with noise instead of this, and maybe lighting a candle.

You dropped your keys into the bowl at the door and set the boxes down against the back of the couch. You had only taken a few steps in when you stopped in your tracks.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and it felt like your heart stopped before it started beating again at a rapid pace.

Your kitchen counter was littered with flowers. Many of them were dead, stems bent and empty, the petals having wilted and fallen from them, the water inside of the vases murky and old. Some were in a weird inbetween stage, a few petals missing but hanging onto some color. And there, front and center, was the biggest vase out of the bunch. The followers were clearly fresh, so much so that you could almost smell them, if it weren’t for the sour odor of the old ones. Your brain itched with recognition, and you let out a shaky breath when you realized this bouquet was identical to the ones Bradley had delivered to your office months ago, when you first got back together. Identical to the ones that Paul had then gotten you the next day.

There was a folded piece of paper leaning against that vase with your name scrawled across it. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but you swallowed thickly and took slow, tentative steps. When you got close enough, you could see how there were insects crawling amongst the dead arrangements covering your counter. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the note.

You let out a sound that you could only describe as horrified when you read the words.

Welcome home - I’ve been waiting for you.

You stumbled over your own feet as you took startled steps back.Your vision blurred with tears and panic was settled so heavily on your chest that you couldn’t breathe. You needed to leave. You needed to go back out the door you just came through and wait for Bradley. You had to get away. You needed to get out.

You whipped around, ready to run for the front door, but you didn’t even get a step in before a scream ripped from your throat.

“You’re finally here.”

Paul was standing right there in front of you, between you and the front door.

You were hit with a gut wrenching, terrifying, twisted and sinking realization that you were alone with him.

You were alone with him, and you had nowhere to go.

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

Part Thirteen :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: YIKES, BUG!! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO INSIDE?! Sorry for the wait on this one, and for being so delayed with responses to the previous part! Life is lifeing, folks. We're almost at the end! Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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by design

INTRODUCTION

Since the October 7 massacre, antisemitism worldwide has skyrocketed to levels reminiscent of the eve of the rise of the Nazis. Dozens of synagogues around the world have been firebombed or set on fire. A 12-year-old Jewish girl was raped in France on account of her Jewishness; another French Jewish woman was allegedly kidnapped and raped “to avenge Palestine.” A pro-Palestinian protestor killed a 69-year-old Jewish man in Los Angeles. An ISIS-supporting teenager stabbed a 50-year-old Jewish man in Zurich, leaving him in critical condition. A San Diego Jewish dentist was murdered under suspicious circumstances. Protestors have defaced Holocaust memorials, nearly lynched Israel’s 20-year-old Eurovision participant, the mother of an Israeli female hostage had to be rescued from a pro-Palestine mob in New York City, protestors disrupted a memorial walk at Auschwitz on the Jewish Holocaust Remembrance Day, and the list goes on and on…

In 2017, the white supremacist Unite the Right Rally, during which participants exclaimed “Jews will not replace us,” drew widespread condemnation from the left. Yet today, day after day, thousands march in main western cities, including New York City, proudly displaying the flags of Hamas, Hezbollah, and even the Houthis, whose banner proclaims “a curse upon the Jews,” and the left hardly bats an eye. Worse, we are gaslit. We are told that these are merely “ceasefire” or “anti-war” protests. We are told “a few bad apples” don’t represent the movement. We are told we are blowing things out of proportion, or that their hateful actions are valid because of X, Y, and Z.

But these are not a few bad apples or fringe extremists. I don’t doubt that the vast majority of people worldwide who feel solidarity with Palestinians are not genocidal Jew-haters. But the antisemitism that we see coming from the pro-Palestine crowd is not a fluke. It’s not a coincidence. It’s not an exaggeration, a distortion, or a lie.

It’s by design. It’s, unfortunately, what this movement was designed to do from its inception, to the detriment of Jews, Palestinians, and Israelis alike.

THE LONG LEGACY OF DHIMMITUDE

To really understand what’s going on, we have to go back in time to 637 CE. Following Muhammad’s death in 632, the Arab Islamic empires conquered lands exponentially quickly. As a result of this rapid colonization, the Muslim authorities were faced with the “problem” of how to handle the conquered Indigenous peoples that resisted conversion to Islam.

This “problem” was solved with a treaty known as the Pact of Umar. This so-called treaty allowed select religious and cultural minorities, known as dhimmis, or “People of the Book,” to practice their beliefs so long as they paid the “jizya” tax and abided by a set of restrictive, second-class citizenship laws.

In other words, to survive, Jews had two choices: pay a tax or convert to Islam. But the system of dhimmitude didn’t end there. Jews faced a myriad of second-class restrictions. For instance, Jews could not govern, lead, or employ Muslims. Jews could not join the military or work for the government. When harmed by a Muslim, Jews had to purchase Muslim witnesses, which left Jews with virtually no legal recourse.

You may think that dhimmitude, which was only abolished in 1856, is too long ago, too far removed from the conflict and the Palestinians of today. But it isn’t. That’s not how history works. Fast forward to the beginnings of the twentieth century and political Zionism. Palestinian Arabs, the majority of whom were Muslim, might not have held any ill will toward Jews. But they were accustomed to a certain social structure, in which Muslims dominated and Jews and other religious minorities were second-class citizens. The “threat” of Zionism challenged this structure. Jews were fine, so long as they knew their place. Once Jews started asking for more, well, that became a problem.

THE FORMER DHIMMIS

In 1916, the British promised the Arabs a unified Arab state in Greater Syria, which included Palestine. A year later, the British issued the Balfour Declaration, which stated that “His Majesty's Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.”

It’s worth noting that the British did not yet occupy Palestine at the time either of these promises were made. To the Arabs, the Balfour Declaration reneged the earlier promise made to them, whereas the British argued that it, in fact, did not. After all, the Balfour Declaration never specified the exact nature of this Jewish homeland.

Up until 1917, the vast majority of Arabs in Palestine, save for the higher classes, had never heard of Zionism. To prevent any sort of Jewish homeland from ever coming to fruition, the Palestinian Arab leadership, led by Haj Amin al-Husseini, had to mobilize the masses. So what did he do? He incited antisemitic violence, by disseminating the conspiracy that the Jews intended to take over Temple Mount. This incitement resulted in a series of antisemitic massacres, most notably, the 1929 Hebron Massacre.

A couple of things are telling about these massacres. First, the language that was used. At the 1920 Nebi Musa riots, Muslim Arabs ravaged the Jewish community in Jerusalem, chanting “Palestine is ours!” and “the Jews are our dogs!” Second, if al-Husseini’s problem truly was Zionism, he could’ve incited violence against the new Zionist communities that had been established over the previous decades. Instead, however, this violence almost exclusively targeted the oldest continuous Jewish communities in Palestine, in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, and more. The threat of autonomous Jews prompted Palestinian Arabs to attack their very own neighbors, the former dhimmis.

SEEDS OF CONFLICT

Today, Palestinians certainly have many legitimate human rights grievances against Israel. But up until the 1930s, when the Zionist paramilitary Irgun carried the first Zionist retaliatory attacks against Arabs, this just wasn’t the case. The Zionist movement purchased lands legally. As a matter of official policy, the Zionists avoided purchasing lands occupied by Palestinian farmers.

The 1937 Peel Commission corroborated this, stating: “Much of the land now carrying orange groves was sand dunes or swamp and uncultivated when it was purchased.” In 1931, the British created a register for landless Arabs; only 664 Arabs out of a total of nearly 900,000 met the criteria.

It’s worth noting that the Ottoman Empire had restricted Jewish land purchases. Once again, Zionist land purchases upset the previously existing social order, in which Jews were tolerated so long as they stayed in line.

In fact, Haj Muhammad Said al-Husseini, the Mufti of Gaza, admitted as much in 1948, when he issued a fatwa stating that “Zionism has created a reality in which Jews have forgotten they are dhimmis.” A similar fatwa had been issued in 1935.

What’s happening today is not at all shocking considering the earliest Palestinian violent “resistance” to Zionism was, to put it plainly, resistance to Jews. In 1937, when Haj Amin al-Husseini was asked whether he would be willing to absorb the 400,000 Jews already residing in Palestine into a future singular Palestinian Arab state, he plainly said, “No,” and implied that they would be expelled. Of course, he also rejected any partition of the land between Arabs and Jews. In other words, Haj Amin al-Husseini rejected the very existence of Jews in Palestine regardless of the political arrangement.

Their problem wasn’t just with Zionism. From day one, their problem was with Jews. So is it any surprise Jews today are being terrorized around the world in the name of Palestine?

ionist land purchases did not displace Palestinians. As a matter of policy, the Zionist movement avoided purchasing lands occupied by fellahin, or Palestinian farmers. This is corroborated by the 1937 Peel Commission, which noted, “Much of the land now carrying orange groves was sand dunes or swamp and uncultivated when it was purchased.”

But up until 1936, when the Irgun, the right-wing Zionist paramilitary group, carried the first Zionist retaliatory attacks against Arabs, this wasn’t the case. Land purchases

"His Majesty's government has been faced with an irreconcilable conflict of principles. For the Jews, the essential point of principle is the creation of a sovereign Jewish state. For the Arabs, the essential point of principle is to resist to the last the establishment of Jewish sovereignty in any part of Palestine."

British Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin, 1947

SKEWED PRIORITIES

Time and time again from its inception, the Palestinian “resistance” has prioritized the murder of Jews over their own national aspirations. Between 1939-1947, the Palestinian Arab leadership rejected a number of iterations of a “one state solution” with an Arab majority on account of the fact that said state would have too many Jews or afford Jews too much autonomy.

The original 1964 charter of the Palestine Liberation Organization is telling. In 1964, the charter explicitly stated, “This Organization [the PLO] does not exercise any regional sovereignty over the West Bank in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, in the Gaza Strip, or the Himmah area.” In other words, the PLO’s main aim was the destruction of Israel, as opposed to self-determination for the Palestinian people living under the occupation of two different Arab nations. It was only in 1968, shortly after Israel captured those territories during the Six Day War, that their charter was amended to include Gaza and the West Bank.

The pattern has continued. In the early 1990s, when Israel and the PLO pursued a peace process known as the Oslo Accords, Yasser Arafat, al-Husseini’s protege and chairman of the PLO, gave an address at a Johannesburg mosque where he assured the worshippers that this peace agreement was merely a “tactical step” in the ultimate goal to annihilate Israel.

Among the most heard chants at pro-Palestine protests today are a number of variations of “globalize the intifada,” but the intifadas drastically deteriorated the quality of life of Palestinians. The checkpoints and the West Bank wall, for example, were erected in response to the intifadas.There is absolutely no strategic reason in calling for an intifada if the concern is truly Palestinian human rights. The only reason to call for an intifada is if what you wish to prioritize is the murder of Jews.

In the 1960s, Vietnamese general Vo Nguyen Giáp advised Arafat to "…stop talking about annihilating Israel and instead turn your [Arafat's] terror war into a struggle for human rights." But the fact remains: Arafat, and his successors, continued to prioritize Israel’s destruction over Palestinian human rights.

rootsmetals

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #standwiththetruth #jewishlivesmatter #standwithisrael #stopantisemitism

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goldenseresinretriever · 2 months

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Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 4

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?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

The next morning you get to work early. You’re getting set up in the exam room for Jake’s physical, having spoken to both Mav and the player already scheduled for the first slot to rearrange the schedule. You glance at the door every few minutes, it’s still early but a small party of you is scared that yesterday’s agreement was made in the heat of the moment, lulled into comfort by the shared pizza and conversation, and that Jake wouldn’t show. You aren’t sure what you’re going to do if he doesn't show up. You’re running out of options. The puck is very much in his rink, and while you’d promised him two weeks, with the rate everyone else was getting through their physicals, it won’t be too long before Cyclone is up your ass asking what was taking Jake so long. You put down the chart you’ve rearranged on the counter a dozen times over the last five minutes, deciding to use your time elsewhere. You reach for the filing rack to scan over the charts for the other players scheduled for today, anything to take your mind and eyes off the closed door. The ticking of the analog clock on the wall above it feels like a bomb, and you can’t help the way your breath catches in response to every move of the minute hand. At 8:59, your hands are trembling as your nerves finally make their way to your extremities, your toes clenching and opening to ground yourself with the stinging pain. Your back is leaning against the counter, your hands clasped in front of you to hide their shaking while keeping them visible, a sign of trust. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from going out and hunting down Jake yourself when the door opens just as the minute hand clicks into place over the 12. His blonde hair, usually perfectly styled first thing in the morning, is already sticking up waywardly as if he’s been running his large hands through them repeatedly. When you meet his green eyes, you see a scared animal, caught between fight and flight as his knuckles are bordering on white where they grip the door handle, an anchor to the hallway, a way out if he decides to bolt. His perfect lips, usually spread in that infectious grin you adore so much are pinched in a tight line. Your mind starts racing. The game begins for real now. He’s in your home court and it’s up to you to convince him to stay. The problem with putting two nervous individuals with their respective careers on the line in the same room is that their brains are too busy setting themselves on fire to properly function like human beings. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Alright Lola, up on the table and we can get started.” Your hands clap to try and break the tension that you’re sure you’d need an electric knife if not a high-grade laser to dissolve.

It seems like the completely out-of-left-field address does at least some of the trick, however, and Jake’s face twists from nervous to confused. “Lola?” His grip on the door loosens and it swings shut behind him, forgotten.

“Lola.” You wave a hand, dismissively. “Like Lola Bunny? I mean you’re the one who called me Bugs. It makes perfect sense: you’re blonde, you’re an athlete, and you’ve got great tits.” Your eyes widen as your brain finally takes a break from arson to catch up with what your mouth has been up to. You slap a hand over it, but you can’t take back what you’ve just said. Speaking of things currently resembling an on-fire garbage can? Your professionalism can be added to that list. You’re yanked out of your mental spiral by Jake’s booming laughter. It turns out you didn’t need an electric knife or a space laser to cut the tension in the room, that sound was more than enough. Behind your hand, your lips curve into an involuntary smile at the infectious smile. He’s doubled over now, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. His hands are on his knees, one gripping in humor while the other simply rests, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Oh Bugs,” he manages to get out between wheezing aftershocks, “you’re a lot funnier than I expected.” You feel your cheeks heating involuntarily. He looks up from his doubled-over position to fix you with the full force of his dazzling grin. You honestly can’t blame every girl in America for falling for it, you’ve never been particularly attracted to Jake yourself, but it’s got your knees weak, seeing it up close and personal.

“Sorry.” The words are murmured just under your breath, embarrassment muffling them.

“Don’t apologize, Bugs, I’m a big fan.” You feel yourself shrink at the sweet words as he straightens, his previous nerves nowhere to be seen as he closes the distance to the exam table in a few strides, sitting down and you notice the way his feet actually touch the ground. “I like it. Bugs and Lola. We make a good team.” You can hear a thousand warning bells going off in your head. The common sense fire department has arrived to put out the fire in your brain. The sirens are loud but you block them out because the doctor side of your brain is jumping up and down at the strides you’re making with Jake. The doctor side. Definitely, the doctor side.

“Well then Lola,” you emphasize the name because you can’t help it, “let’s get started, shall we? We can do this one of two ways. First, we could just treat this like a regular physical and assume I know nothing about your injury, and proceed as normal until I inevitably discover it and then you start talking or second, we could just address the elephant in the room, you can explain what’s going on from the get-go and then we’ll work from there. I’d personally prefer option two so I can amend the physical procedure so you don’t have to put any unnecessary strain on your leg. Still, it’s up to you, whatever you’re most comfortable with.” The mood in the room shifts as you’re both brought back to the present. Jake is quiet, considering your question before he looks up from where he’s been studying his clasped hands.

“Let’s go with option 2 then, Bugs.” You nod, giving him a gentle smile, pulling the stool out from under the counter and taking a seat, giving the floor to Jake but not before you let him know.

“Thank you, Jake. I'm really proud of you.” You hadn’t intended to tell him the second part but something about the visible nervous tension in his broad shoulders makes you think maybe he needs to hear it. He nods, silently.

“Like you said,” he starts. “It happened during Game Four of the Anaheim series during the playoffs. That defenseman, Jones I think his name was, had been on me all night, and he was getting more and more pushy. I could barely move on the ice without him being in my way and it was starting to piss me off. I went to shove him off but he was too close, and our legs got tangled as we went down. I landed on my knee. Honestly, I think I blacked out momentarily from the initial pain. I knew something was seriously wrong but I also knew we were down two points and if we lost that game it could be the deciding moment of the series.” He shakes his head. “So I lied to the physician. I told him I was fine, just a little shaken up from the fall. I didn’t hit my head, I wasn’t concussed, so they let me play. We lost anyway. Then I finally told the physician what was going on, and,” he falters and you fight the urge to close the distance between the two of you and take his hand. “We did all the scans, the tests, and it came back that I had torn my MCL.” You can’t help the sound of shock that passes your lips. It wasn’t an uncommon injury, complete recovery was possible, common even. Complications were rare. Yet the idea of Jake spending the last three months walking around with it untreated, covering that up, even going so far as to play hockey with the torn ligament made your heart lurch. He had to be in unimaginable pain every single day. His eyes raise at the sound from where they’ve been focused on his hands in his lap.

“What grade?” You don’t recognize the gravelly sound of your voice.

“Three…” You can’t breathe.

“And that son of a bitch didn’t DO anything?” Your voice is dripping with the rage that swirls around your heart. It was simple. It was so simple. Six weeks to heal minimum, but they were at the end of the season. Surgery would have been entirely possible with a three to four-month recovery period during the off-season. He could have been almost back to normal right now and your stomach turned at the complete and total disregard for his care. Jake is silent, his eyes darting between his hands and your seething face. “What the fuck did he do?” Your voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear it. “What the fuck did he do instead of his fucking JOB?” You shake your head, a delirious chuckle escaping your lips as you do so. “What did he do instead of holding to his duty of fucking CARE?” You can’t see Jake’s expression past your blind rage.

“He told me full recovery would take over a year. He said that I would have to sit out the next season if I ever wanted to play again.” Jake shakes his head. “Then my coach was so adamant, so sure we could make it to the final. He was so convinced. He said we could get another cup, if I just stayed in for the rest of playoffs, if I just pushed through it. He said it would make the year off seem earned instead of,” Jake cuts off, barking a laugh, like even he can’t believe it now that he’s saying the words out loud. He’s quiet for a minute before he continues. “And he had my physician in his back pocket, so he told him to make sure I could play when I definitely shouldn’t have been. And you know how that ended. We played the next three games but ultimately lost the series with Anaheim. I started getting more in-depth scans and preliminary treatment done but suddenly Coach wasn’t so sure I was going to be worth the wait. He said if I took the year off, he couldn’t promise me I’d get my first-line spot back. And not in the way that you say when you’re trying to be realistic. No, he said it the way you say when it’s a promise, a threat. Like he just casually forgot my contract was up.” He chuckles and this time it’s unlike every other time you’ve heard the sound. It’s cold, cruel. “He expected me to re-sign, just like everyone else, because when you’re the face of a team, you can’t just leave. So I did just that.”

His green eyes are icy. “By the time I decided to leave, and figured out everything with my legal team, I knew there weren’t any teams still looking for players. It’s the NHL, who doesn’t want their shot? The rosters were full. Then I thought about the Dogfighters. They’re new, looking for their big break, their secret weapon.” He shrugs. “So I gave them an offer they couldn't refuse, served myself up on a big silver platter. I’d been taking the summer easy, staying off my leg the best I could. I thought it would be enough, that I could play. And sure it was probably the delusion, and I knew I would get caught out eventually because I didn’t think any of this through but I sure wasn’t expecting you to call me out on my first fucking day, Bugs.” He chuckles again and this time it’s the one you know so well. “You threw me off my axis, and now we’re here.” His eyes come back to your face and his expression changes to one of immediate concern. “Hey Bunny, hey what’s wrong?”

“What?” Your voice comes out as a croak and that’s when you realize you’re crying. You don’t know when the tears started leaking from your eyes, but now they run silently down your cheeks, dripping onto your clasped in your lap. “Oh, oh my god, Jake I’m so sorry. This is so unprofessional.” You flounder as you reach for the tissue box on the countertop behind you. You swipe at your cheeks roughly, trying to clean up the salty tracks as quickly as possible. “Sorry, I just- That’s not fair, what both of them did to you. They made you play, threatened your job, lied to you about your leg-” You can’t help the sob that chokes your words as you feel yourself getting more emotional as your heart breaks for the man sitting before you. He reaches for you, letting his good leg snag on your stool, rolling it over so you’re sitting between his spread knees. His hands come to take yours and you’re struck by the cruel irony of him comforting you when it should be you doing so for him.

“Slow down, Bunny. What do you mean they lied about my knee?” His green eyes search yours for a lie.

You shake your head. “A grade three MCL tear can heal in as little as six weeks with proper care. With surgery, it could take a little longer, but even then complications are rare. You could’ve been back on the ice as good as new by the time the new season started.” The tears are still running down your cheeks as you watch his face change as he processes your words, his hands clenching on your own as rage contorts his features and you pray you’re never on the receiving end of it because it steals the breath out of your lungs. You have to remind yourself that it’s not you that he’s angry with because your body is fighting the urge to pull away from him until you see tears mirroring your own on his cheeks. Frustration and grief wrack his body with sobs as you stand, pulling him into your arms against your better judgment. “I’m sorry, Jake.” You whisper as you rub circles into his back and just hold him as he falls apart. “I’m so sorry.”

***

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that. Eventually, you separate and discuss your next steps. You want new scans and tests run which you need to schedule. In the meantime, you go through with the rest of the physical to the best of Jake’s abilities and when he finally stands to leave with your help, the two of you exchange tired smiles and promise to see each other tomorrow. In the meantime, Jake needs to talk to his team and you need to talk to his manager and coach. You shoot Mav and Cyclone a text that you need to meet with them ASAP.

That’s how you find yourself sitting in that dreaded chair across from Cyclone’s desk later that day. You’re not sure how long you’ve been there. Time started slowing to a slow bleed ages ago. What started as a perfectly reasonable conversation about the health of one of your patients stopped being that while Cyclone’s face was still human-colored. “What the FUCK kind of behavior is this, Bugs?” Normally you’d fight the urge to flinch at the rage in his voice, but you’ve mentally checked out of the tirade. “I have an injured player, a fucking STARTER at that, and I’m only finding out about this now? And not just injured, but potentially unable to fucking do his fucking job when the season starts in less than two months?” He’s standing, waving a finger in your face like it’s a gun. You don’t really notice, the same way you didn’t notice Maverick typing furiously at his phone a few minutes ago from his seat slightly behind you, closer to the door, out of Cyclone’s direct eyeline at the moment. Mav tried defending you himself, at the beginning, only for Cyclone to yell at him to “sit down and shut up as if you haven’t caused enough trouble by practically begging me to hire her” which was news to you. Maybe you would’ve been touched if you weren’t so numb. You don’t hear the door behind you slam open, cutting off Cyclone as he’s in the middle of degrading your character into the ground.

“HEY!” Jake’s voice cuts through some of the fog around you and your body relaxes slightly instinctively from the tense position it’s been since you entered the room. As if your body knows you’re safe now that Jake’s here. He crosses the room in seconds, standing in front of you as if he can somehow shield you from Cyclone’s wrath. “This isn’t her fault, so don’t you go accusing her as if it is.” His voice is pure fury and if you were in control of your body, maybe you’d shudder at the rage that laces every single word. Even through the haze, your eyes clock the way he puts more weight on his left leg.

“That’s not up to you, son. She’s fired, effective immediately. This is gross negligence, she’s lucky we don’t sue.” Maybe you would have giggled at the words, at the inevitability of them, but your face is still glazed over.

“No, she’s not.” Jake’s tone leaves no room for discussion. “The only way I’m getting treated is if she’s the one to do it.” He glares at Cyclone. “I know I’ve cost you all a pretty penny that you currently don’t have so not only can you not afford to fire me, but you need me to play, and the only way that’s going to happen is if my leg heals, and I’m telling you right now that that’s not happening unless Bugs is my physician. If you want to blame someone? I’m feeling pretty good about my chances of suing my last physician and coach for a lot more than gross negligence. But Bugs and I are a package deal. If I stay, she stays, and I’m staying.”

With that, he turns to you, the rage gone and replaced with concern as he reaches for your hands so, so gently, taking them in his and easing you to your feet. “Come on, Bunny. “ He whispers so only you can hear, placing a hand on the small of your back, the other laced with yours as he guides you out of Cyclone’s office.

Once you’re far enough from the door, he stops, turning to you, a hand coming to cup your jaw as he strokes his thumb across your cheek, green eyes full of worry as they search your empty ones. “Bunny? Hey Bunny, come back to me, baby. I know you’re in there, Bunny, come on.” The gentle repetitive gesture on your cheek and the soothing sound of Jake’s voice slowly draw you out of the place you’ve barricaded yourself in your mind and Jake watches with relief as the haze in your eyes clears. “There you are, Bunny. You okay, baby?” The feeling rushes back into your body and your knees buckle with exhaustion from being on defensive shutdown for so long. You can’t bring yourself to speak so you nod as Jake slides an arm around your waist, holding you up as you slump against the wall. You’re too overwhelmed to catch the term of endearment he’d added into his sentences.

“Jake?” Your voice is a hoarse croak from disuse.

“Yeah, baby? I’m right here, Bunny.” His thumb continues its trail across your pallid cheek.

“What were you- How’d you- Why’d you do that?” Your brain is still fuzzy as you trip over your words.

He shakes his head gently, quiet affection in his gaze as he looks down into your bleary eyes. “It’s like I said this morning, Bunny. We make a good team. You really think I’d let you get away when we’re just getting started?” His eyes dance with something else you can’t place but before you can respond, the door down the hall opens again and you force yourself to stand and step out of Jake’s arms as Maverick comes towards the two of you. If he saw anything, he doesn’t say, instead giving Jake a gentle clap on the shoulder.

“Good save, kid. Quick on your feet, I like that.” He turns to you then. “Bugs, I’m so sorry about all of that. You didn’t deserve any of it, I wish I could have done more to stop it.”

You wave him off. “No need for both of us to lose our jobs, right? And you did help, Maverick. Even if I almost just lost it, you’re the reason I got this job, in more than one way apparently.” You give him a knowing look and his cheeks pinken with embarrassment that makes his fatherly face look boyish. “Thank you for that, I really mean it.” You know Maverick has no idea why Cyclone was so trigger-happy to fire you, Cyclone made that clear at your interview, and as much as you feel the sudden urge to tell him, you hold back because this is your new start and you definitely don’t need Jake to know.

“You don’t need to thank me, just keep taking good care of my boys.” You nod, hoping your gratitude shows in your eyes. “On that note, the three of us obviously need to talk about the next steps and honestly I’m really not in the mood to do that here, so why don’t you two join me and Penny for dinner?” He slings an arm around each of your shoulders, guiding the two of you down the hall, away from Cyclone’s office.

“Penny, sir?” Jake questions.

Maverick beams. “She’s the team nutritionist, and by some miracle, my girlfriend.” You fight the urge to giggle at the sixty-year-old man referring to Penny as his girlfriend instead of his partner.

“I don’t know,” Jake says ruefully. “Pudding’s been home alone all day and I can’t really leave her alone any longer in good conscience.” Mav waves him off.

“Bring her, there’s plenty of room at my house. I’ll text you both the address and take the rest of the afternoon off. We’ll work out where to go next at dinner and let the team know first thing tomorrow. Bugs, you too, you don’t look too great, the physicals can wait until tomorrow.” You nod gratefully as Mav leaves the two of you at the door to the parking garage.

Jake turns to you as Mav walks away. “Do you need to grab your stuff? We can meet back here in a five and I’ll walk you to your car?” You shake your head.

“No, you go ahead and head home. I’m definitely putting my afternoon physicals on hold but I want to make a comprehensive list of scans and treatment options to discuss with Mav at dinner so I’m gonna be another hour or two. I need to make a couple of calls.” That is if your so-called colleagues will even deign to answer the phone. “And no waiting for me this time.” You poke at his chest with your finger. “You get home to your girl and stay off that leg as best as you can.” Your eyes drift down to the new knee brace barely visible under Jake’s sweats. “Give her some extra cuddles because I have a feeling things around here are about to pick up, and drive safe with the brace, you hear me?” You frown at Jake’s leg. “You probably shouldn’t be driving period. Maybe I should give you a ride home.” He waves you off.

“I’m all good Bugs, you focus on finishing up your work, and I’ll see you at Mav’s for dinner.” You shake your head again, more forceful this time.

“No, I’m picking you up. This is the last time you’re driving with that leg. Here,” you pull your phone from your pocket, “put in your number and text yourself that way you have mine. Then you’re gonna text me your address when you get home so I know you made it in one piece.”

“Not all of us are prone to vehicular manslaughter, Bunny.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that HE drove in front of ME?” You snap, irritantly and he grins playfully.

“I don’t know, I think I’ll have to hear the other side of the story at dinner.” He says with a wink before he pushes open the door to the garage. You scowl after him. “See you, Bunny.”

“See you, Lola.” You enunciate as you turn on your heel, marching back to your office with purpose, ready to finally be able to do your job.

#san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san Diego dogfighters hockey au #snitches get stitches // goldenseresinretriever #sgs // goldenseresinretriever #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #TGM #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #no use of y/n

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discount-shades · 2 years

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Sleepy Baby Part 12

a/n: This will make more sense if you have seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin X reader

Warnings: None, back to fluff

Word Count: 1400 ish

Summary: Jake is Lancelot and Kisses is Guinevere

Previous Masterlist Next

When Jake had said he only had twenty six months left in San Diego you saw two options, either end it then and there or go all in. The prospect of living the rest of your life without Jake was unimaginable so it had been an easy decision to bet it all. Even though neither of you are behaving differently everything feels like it has shifted.

Knowing that what you were feeling was real and had a future made everything seem easier. You had a goal. You and Jake were building a future together. While the relationship had started as a happy accident and a fun way to get back out there emotionally, it was now the foundation to your future.

True to his word Jake had become one of Grace’s biggest supporters, always encouraging you to spend time with her and the small group of friends you began to develop. When you brought it up to him he admitted that your not quite hypothetical future marriage was one of his reasons.

“When I’m deployed you need people in your life you can turn to.” He explained. “Any of my Navy buddies like Javy will help if they can, but you’re right, they would be helping you for me and it won’t be the same support system.”

You still saw the Dagger Squad often and that is how you ended up back at the Hard Deck clustered around the pool table at the back. Jake was playing and easily beating everyone. He finally beats Phoenix and casually walks over to you.

“You’re my good luck charm,” he throws his arm around you as you sit perched on a stool. You roll your eyes and grin up at him as he kisses you on your lips.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you tell him. “At the risk of overinflating your ego, I have it on good authority that it's a game of skill.”

“No, it’s my love for you that lets me win,” he says with a false sense of confidence. “And to prove my love to you I shall beat Rooster next.” You glance over at Bradley and see him racking up the balls for the next game.

“Jake, you would win even if I wasn’t here,” you tell him. “If you love me you’ll lose.” You gaze at Jake with a forced innocent expression that is hard to maintain at the look on his face.

“No,” Jake's small response is confused and offended.

“It’s Arthurian Jake,” you say dramatically, “Guinevere asked Sir Lancelot to lose at a tournament to prove his love. Your pool cue will be your lance.”

“You’re Lancelot-ing me?” he says in disbelief. “If I am Lancelot and you are Guinevere our love is doomed and I don’t like that ending.” He is standing between your spread legs and his hands slide to your hips pulling you closer.

“We can rewrite that part.” you tell him with a kiss. “Now go out and lose for me, Sir Lancelot.”

He sighs in resignation, “is this what you really want my Queen Guinevere?”

“Sure is,” you grin mischievously. “But you can’t make it obvious you are losing on purpose.”

“Hangman, leave your girl alone and get over here and play some pool.” You peek over Jake's shoulder at Bradley’s words before turning back to Jake with a grin and raise your eyebrows in challenge.

“The things I do for love,” Jake’s breath moves over your neck as he whispers in your ear and you burst out laughing.

“No way,” Bradley calls out, pointing at you. “It’s like poker all over again. You are not allowed to talk to her while we are playing, and she is not allowed to talk to you.”

“Can I at least cheer him on?” you say indignation in your voice.

“Fine,” Bradley agrees, “you can cheer him on and console him when I win.” Jake glares at Bradley but agrees with a huff and they begin to play.

Bob ends up sitting beside you watching. Jake is playing poorly. He is not missing really obvious shots but he is not playing to the same ability that he usually plays at, only sinking one or two balls per turn. “What did you say to him to throw him off?” Bob asks you in confusion. “He is usually way better than this.”

“Uhhhhmmmm,” you tug on your hair. “I may or may not have told him to prove he loved me by losing.” you shoot a sheepish look at Bob.

Bob snorts, “You ‘A Knight’s Tale-ed’ him? Come on, did you really need to do that to know he loves you?”

“No, I know he does, and I’m pretty sure it is originally Arthurian.” You pause your conversation with Bob to console Jake after a shot bounces off the edge of the pocket and rolls back across the table.

“It’s OK, Babe, you nearly had it!” Jake glares at you with the tiniest hint of a grin on his face shaking his head and you smile back.

“Then why did you ask him to lose?” Bob is looking back and forth between you and Jake.

“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny,” you say with a grin at Bob. “Maybe it's a role play we like to do, you know, to spice things up in the bedroom.”

“Ew,” Bob looks at you with a wrinkled nose. “I do not want to hear about yours and Hangman's sex life.”

You just laugh before looking at the table. The game is almost over. “Quick you have to go tell Jake to win!” You say shaking Bob’s arm.

“Oh no,” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever you two have going on!”

“Please Bob,” you say desperately as Jake chalks the tip of his cue. He has four balls left and to win he would have to sink them all and then the 8 ball without missing any. “Bradley won’t let me talk to him. Please be my fair maid and tell my valiant knight that if he loves me he will win!”

Bob looks at you in disappointment before sighing and going over to Jake mumbling, “I’m going to regret this.”

You watch eagerly as Bob walks over to talk quietly to Jake with a pained expression on his face and grin impishly when Jake jerks his head up to glare at you at Bob's words. Bob slinks back to your side and hangs his head in defeat. “I can’t believe I did that for you.” He shudders, “I feel dirty.”

“Cheer up Bob,” you nudge him with your shoulder. “I was joking about it being a sex thing.”

“That does make me feel a little better.” You watch Jake sink his final 4 balls with an intense look on his face.

“It wasn’t about sex when I said it originally, but that could change,” you eye Jake’s hungry look with a grin as he stalks over to you after sinking the 8 ball and winning the game.

“My Queen,” he says and pulls you to your feet before dipping you dramatically and kissing you.

“My Valiant Knight you have proven your love,” you run your fingers through his hair smiling and pull his lips back to you yours. You can hear Bradley arguing with Bob in the background over what he said to Jake.

Jake hums happily into your kiss before standing both of you back up. “I am your King,” he corrects before giving you another kiss.

“Well I didn’t vote for you.” Your attempt at a British accent is terrible.

Jake looks at you frowning. “I was rewriting us a happier ending.”

“Oh,” you say in realization, laughing and continuing to talk in the terrible accent, “oh King eh, very nice.”

You yelp and jump closer as Jake smacks your ass, “you’re a brat.”

“If you are spanking me that makes you Galahad and you are in terrible peril.”

Jake pulls you in close and you slide your hands up his chest and loop them around his neck so you are pressed against his hard body. “I’ll have to face my peril,” his words are spoken between heated kisses.

“You’re sure it's not too perilous?” you ask, grinning into his lips.

Jake drags his lips down your neck placing soft kisses as he goes. “It’s my duty to sample the peril.”

“Please go home.” Bob is still sitting in his chair next to your vacated one. Jake laughs and pulls you to the bar to pay the tab.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #topgun #topgun maverick #hangman topgun #topgun hangman

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untitled-gem · 1 year

Text

compiling EVERYTHING we know about fionna and cake

NEWS: EPISODE 1 PREMIERED AT SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON. There are no known recordings of the episode as streaming it was not permitted, however you can check my newer post for some described details (minor spoilers warning but nothing too big!)

WE HAVE GOT A SECOND TRAILER!

youtube

There was also be a half hour panel about Fionna and Cake, which brought us A TRAILER WITH A RELEASE DATE OF AUGUST 31! Starting from this date til Sept 28th, we will get 2 episodes a week.

youtube

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

The show is aimed at a young adult audience

There will be 10 episodes, each with a length of 30 minutes (most likely 30 minutes *TV* time, meaning the true length will probably be around 22 minutes)

It will be about multiverse hopping

Fionna is older and has a job in a different universe where everyone is genderswapped + human

It will, supposedly, premier on CN Canada in fall, probably after all of the episodes have already been released in September.

Prismo seems to be involved, according to the trailer (he's also apparently in the intro sequence)

An older version of Finn is in it! (As seen in the trailer)

Gumlee is almost certainly going to be a thing (as confirmed by someone who worked on it)

The entire intro/opening sequence was described as "going inside Simon's psyche" and it ending with Fionna and cake jumping out of Prismo's time room. Please note we haven't seen the actual intro sequence yet, just the trailer.

Fionna has a slight outfit change, she no longer wears a skirt and has shorts instead.

Simon also appears to be older — and judging by Finn's age in the trailer, it's presumably because this will take place between Obsidian and Together Again.

The most recent plot synopsis states that Fionna and Cake will be coming to Simon for help. An earlier plot synopsis said that at some point, they would need to rescue him

The synopses also state that they team up with him to help stop a new threat to Ooo that is tracking Fionna and Cake down to try to erase their existence

As seen in the trailer, we will be getting Simon and Marcy flashbacks.

Fionna's sword in the snippet also may have something to do with Ice Thing, as it has a pretty similar design

Cake's eye color has been changed to blue

According to Tom Kenny, recording Simon's lines for this was "the most emotional thing he's ever done"

Adam Muto is returning as showrunner

Hanna K Nyström, Jack Pendarvis, and Steve Wolfhard also return for this

The credits(?) theme of the series is the song that can be heard in the trailer

According to an attendee, a middle-aged Finn also appears in one of the episodes (as learned from a clip shown at the panel, also unavailable as of right now) and also says a light swear

This is most likely in the same clip as one where Simon is fishing and accidentally catches a monster, and Finn having to save him

Rebecca Sugar has returned to write two original songs for the series

It seems like Donald Glover is returning as Marshall Lee's VA!

According to Adam Muto, this show takes place about 12 years after Come Along With Me, making both Finn and Fionna around 29+

Jake gets shown a bit in the series, most likely as a flashback

Tree Trunks also gets a bit of screentime

Lumpy Space Prince/Princess is confirmed to still be voiced by Pen Ward

Adam Muto says they they don't know what a season 2 would look like, but it wouldn't be off the table

There will be a vampire episode (which will probably be where Marceline comes in)

The unknown enemy of the series might be the unfamiliar face we can see in this poster, between Marceline and Ice King:

NOTE AS OF THE NEW TRAILER: I will not be updating this post anymore. If I have any theories surrounding the new stuff we saw, I will be putting those into a separate post. The show premieres in 2 weeks!

#adventure time #fionna and cake #Youtube

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kiwiana-writes · 10 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks @firenati0n for the tag!! Absolutely love to see people publish their first fic and then throw themselves into author tag games 😍 😍 😍

Circling back to the Anastasia AU this week because why the fuck not. It's a long one! Hope y'all don't mind...

“I’ve just had the most fascinating conversation with the Secretary of Homeland Security, sugar.” The words are pleasant enough, but underneath them is the dangerous grit that launched her into the Presidency in the first place. “He seems to be under the impression that the First Son—my son—drove across the Mexican border this morning.” Alex shrinks down in his seat as though he can escape the glare he can’t even see. “The thing is—” “You know what the most interesting part of the conversation was?” Alex’s jaw snaps shut as she barrels over him. “It wasn’t pretending like I had any idea what he was talking about. Somehow, it wasn’t even the fact that you’re travelling with a boyfriend I’ve never heard about.” “It’s—” “So help me god, Alexander, stop talking.” She sucks in a sharp breath, and Alex knows her fingers are twitching, looking for a cigarette. “The most interesting part was that you’re apparently going to see your grandparents. Now, I know they’re not my in-laws anymore, but I talk to your dad enough that I’m pretty sure I’d know if they’d left San Diego.” Alex chews the inside of his lip and says nothing. “Alex.” Her breath tunnels down the phone, and the way it shakes has guilt clawing up his throat. “What are you doing? As if I don’t have enough going on, with June—” She stutters to a stop, and Alex knows she’s at least halfway there already, the pieces all slotting into place. She might not know the how, yet, but he’s pretty sure she’s figured out the why.

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @myheartalivewrites @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#wip wednesday #kiwiana-writes #wip: years of dreams just can't be wrong #my approach to writing this is so scattered it's actually ridiculous #so fingers crossed it all comes together lmao

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burningexeter · 1 year

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Here's what may very well be in my opinion one of the most interesting pieces of "What Could Have Been" or "cancelled media" that I think could've actually been awesome. So here's everything that I was able to gather on it and it was a looooooooooot.

Originally back in 2011/12, Dwayne McDuffie conceived of and was looking to develop a Gwen and Charmcaster spin-off series which he mapped out a fair amount of it and actually planned it out through-and-through. But what ended up happening to throw it out the window was as simple as can be — Dwayne McDuffie died. Therefore it ended up getting replaced with the still polarizing Omniverse.

So let's begin, shall we:

The tentative title for the series or rather idea was "Where The Magic Happens", named after the Ultimate Alien episode of the same name. Ledgerdomain was to be one of the main primary locations in the spinoff.

It was to take place a week after the events of UA's series finale and pick up Charmcaster's storyline from where it left off with the episode "Couples Retreat". Dwayne McDuffie liked both characters so much that he thought the two could hold their own show together.

Ashley Johnson and Kari Wahlgren were obviously gonna reprise their roles but Gwen would've had a different look from time to time. As in sometimes she would be in her AF look and other times she would be in her UA look.

The premise was essentially gonna be this:

Gwen and Charmcaster were gonna become unlikely and hesitant allies who team up to protect Ledgerdomain and fight crime with Gwen deciding to use her powers to help others full on and Charmcaster doing whatever it can to save her home.

A main plot point would've been Gwen developing a type of PTSD due to several things she's been through throughout the previous three shows, especially this scene from the OG episode "The Return". Being crushed by a tower as a child is giving her reoccurring nightmares that begin affecting her life only for Charmcaster to help her through it seeing as she owes it to her after "Where The Magic Happens" and "Couples Retreat".

On top of that, it would've also explained why the events of the OG Ben 10 happened coincidentally during the summer road trip as a sort of crawling out of the woodwork.

One thing that was to be featured in this series were easter eggs and references to the events of other media that heavily implied a shared universe. For example, in-passing they were to bring up the T-Rex from Isla Sornia Site-B rampaging through San Diego back in the late 90s. Sound familiar?

Another thing is it's still unclear as to whether or not Ben would've appeared in the show as either a cameo or a full on appearance in an episode. So that's still up in the air.

As far as I can tell, a three part pilot was written by McDuffie along with a series bible as he pictured the show running for five seasons but so far nothing has been released. Understandably.

An interesting thing here is there was gonna be a flashback episode that would've been set after the events of "Secret Of The Omnitrix" where Charmcaster kidnaps Gwen from her home for one final confrontation.

Another juicy tidbit would've been a reoccurring villain that ultimately becomes the main antagonist as the show progressed - in this case, it's a pastor who develops dangerously unstable telekinetic powers after surviving a plane crash. McDuffie wanted Clancy Brown to voice him.

Other actors that McDuffie wanted for the show were Michael Jai White, John Lithgow, John Kassir, Geno Segers, Mae Whitman, Colleen O'Shaughnessey, Morena Baccarin, Greg Abbey, Powers Boothe and Will Friedle. Cool.

One thing that was to play a major role was a large book that Charmcaster's written during her time in Ledgerdomain that chronicled the history of magic in the world as well as how the numerous alien races play a part in its creation.

Unfortunately here's the last piece of information that is available or I can find on this cancelled spinoff and it's a good one: Dwayne McDuffie wanted to have comic book-inspired title cards for the episode and he was eyeing Tim Jacobus as the artist to design them.

So yeah this would end up being replaced by the still very polarizing Ben 10: Omniverse and top it off, McDuffie passed away.

But it's still interesting nonetheless. Would any of you have loved to have seen this show.

Let me know what you think of all this.

#Ben 10 #spinoff #cancelled #Gwen Tennyson #Charmcaster #Dwayne McDuffie #Cartoon Network

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ereardon · 1 year

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Friends Don't || Chapter 12

Synopsis: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, angst, cancer, alcohol, mentions of death, fertility and pregnancy discussions, surrogacy

WC: 4.6K

Chapter summary: Reid confines in Phoenix about intimacy issues after Bob learns about her diagnosis; Bob and Reid discuss their future and how kids will play into that; Hangman tries to apologize for being an asshole

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

You had told Bob you didn’t want things to change. He tried his hardest to take that to heart.

You moved back in and that first night sleeping in Bob’s arms again felt like coming home to your own bed after a six-month backpacking trip.

The issue was that you wanted him. You craved his touch. And Bob still touched you like you were a porcelain doll, ready to break.

Before, you barely had to trace your fingers over his chest before he was pulling your panties down with his deft fingers, working himself inside of you, trapping your moans with his mouth.

Now, you’d roll over, press yourself against him, and he would lay his lips gently on your forehead, trying to ease you back to sleep.

After a week, you got sick of it.

“He won’t even touch me,” you complained to Phoenix, taking a sip of your iced tea.

She looked over to her right, toward the inside of the house where the rest of the guys were gathered. The two of you were sitting under the shade of a tree out at the edge of the small fenced-in yard, drinking iced tea and lounging on soft fold out chairs, the kind that parents bring to little league games.

“He treats me like I’m going to break.”

“He’s scared,” she said, sliding her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “You’re the love of his life, Reid. You’re the one thing that means the world to him. And he’s grappling with the fact that he might lose you. He doesn’t want to ruin it.”

You let out a sigh. “That’s the thing. We only have so much time. And I want him, so much.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

You reached out and grabbed her hand. “Really? Thank you!”

She smiled. “Never thought I’d have to talk Floyd into fucking you. Talking him out of fucking you? That I can do. This wasn’t in the Navy handbook.”

You laughed, settling back against the soft fabric of the chair. In the distance you watched as Jake and Bradley argued over how to properly grill the steaks.

Phoenix turned to you after a moment. “Have you guys talked about what happens next?” she asked softly.

“No.” Your eyes were trained on Bob as he bent down, adding another case of beer to the cooler next to the sliding door. “I’m just not ready. Neither is he.”

“I get that,” Phoenix said. “But Reid, you have to. Sooner, rather than later. It’s going to ruin him. He should at least know how you want things to go down after you’re gone.”

“Like what?”

“The funeral. Your stuff.” She let out a breath. “How soon you’d want him to move on.”

You turned to her. “He gets to mourn me as long as he wants. If that’s two days or twenty years. I’m not going to put a cap on it.”

She nodded. “I know. But if you let him, he’ll never look at another woman ever again. He’ll live by himself forever, as a hermit. Is that what you really want for him?”

You turned back to Bob. He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans before looking over at the two of you. You raised your hand in a wave and he smiled back. The sudden urge to run to him and toss your arms around his neck was overwhelming. But you knew that if you did he would be worried. About you running. About all of it.

“Reid?” Phoenix’s voice shook you from your daydream.

“He should move on,” you whispered. “I need him to be happy. He deserves that. He deserves better than this.”

She grabbed your hand. The two of you sat there, holding hands, in silence. Until the sun started to set softly over the roof of the house and Bradley called you inside for dinner.

Later that night, you watched Phoenix pull Bob aside. His eyes darted to where you were sitting on the patio, a glass of wine in hand, and you knew exactly what she was saying to him.

“Want some company?”

You looked up. Bradley stood with a beer in one hand, a smile beneath his mustache. You nodded enthusiastically. “Please.”

He took a seat next to you on the large bench. Despite everything that had happened, Bradley was a comforting presence. You realized the two of you were always destined to be better friends than lovers.

Sometimes it works out like that.

“Couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.” Bradley tipped his head to where Bob and Phoenix were still in deep discussion.

You blushed. “Oh, Jesus.”

He chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I get where he’s coming from.” Bradley squeezed your thigh gently with his hand, closer to your knee, in a friendly way.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“If we were still together, would you be like that?” you asked. “Would you be afraid that you’d break me?”

“Probably not,” Bradley said. “But he loves you more than anybody else ever could.” You looked up at him. He set down his beer on the brick patio. “He loves you with his whole heart. I think he’s worried that any move he makes is going to take minutes, days, off of your time together. He’s so scared that he’s going to mess things up. And he’s never had to deal with death like this before. Not something drawn out. He doesn’t know how to handle it.”

You squinted at him. There was something calm in his demeanor. Familiar in a way. “Have you? Dealt with this before.”

Bradley nodded. “My mom. She died of cancer when I was twenty.”

“Oh.” You reached out, taking his hand into yours and squeezing it. “I’m so sorry, Brad.”

He shook his head. “Thank you. It’s been a while, it gets easier. But I know firsthand how he feels.” Bradley looked up at Bob. “He’s watching his whole world fall apart.”

“This is why I didn’t tell anyone,” you whispered. “I wanted it to be normal. For a while. For as long as possible. I didn’t want people to treat me like a patient.”

Bradley squeezed your hand. “Tell you what. If we’re ever doing that and it’s bothering you, tell me. I’ll make everyone stop.”

You chuckled. “You promise?”

“For you?” he whispered. “Anything.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes softly, your hands still intertwined between your two bodies.

***

“I’m going to take a sabbatical,” Bob said as he rinsed a few tomatoes in the sink, turning around and patting them dry with a well-loved dish towel that you had sent him from Turkey five years prior.

You frowned. “What? You can’t do that.”

He nodded. “They have special permissions. This is one of them.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “I said you were my domestic partner.”

“Oh, Bobby.”

You got up, winding your arms around his waist. He set the tomatoes down gently, cradling your head softly. “I want to be here,” he whispered. “I can’t risk getting shipped off for who knows how long. I won’t risk it. If I have to quit I will. Whatever it takes.”

You pressed your face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. Spicy oranges and jet fuel. After a moment, you leaned back, wrapping one hand around his neck, tugging his lips down to yours. You let your lips graze over his softly, gently.

“Sunny,” he murmured, pulling back.

“Please,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Please. I need you. All of you. I’m not a doll that you might break. I’m the same me as I was two weeks ago when you fucked me on the halllway floor.”

The tips of Bob’s ears went pink.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you whispered and a groan bubbled from Bob’s throat as he leaned down, pressing his lips back against yours, his hands soft where he cradled your head, his other hand against the small of your back, creating a barrier between your back and the kitchen counter. “Take me to bed,” you murmured and in one swift motion Bob pulled you into his arms, floating down the hallway into the bedroom, setting you down gently.

You let him pull off your sundress and watched his eyes widen when he saw you weren’t wearing any underwear or a bra. You spread your legs wide and Bob kneeled on the bed, pressing his face between your legs, one hand gripping your hip softly, his tongue licking a thick stripe through your folds toward your clit as you trembled on the mattress.

“Oh!”

Bob grabbed both sides of your hips with his hands, pushing his face closer into your wet cunt, his nose brushing across your clit as his tongue prodded your entrance. Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, tugging him closer, and Bob started to swirl his tongue across your folds, doing figure eights over your swollen clit as you moaned.

“Bobby, fuck, yes, right there!”

He grunted as you came all over his face, your arousal coating his lips as he pulled back, one of your legs shaking from the force of the orgasm. Bob smoothed his palm over your thigh softly, shifting on top of you. Your fingers grabbed at his shirt, pulling it over his head, before pushing at the waistband of his shorts. He kicked them off carefully, his hard cock landing on your thigh and you gasped as it brushed over your wet folds.

“Want you so badly,” you murmured, sealing your mouth over his. Bob reached down, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, spreading your juices over his length as he pumped himself, the tip of his cock hitting you repeatedly as he did so, causing you to groan.

“Honey,” he whispered into your neck. “Fuck, so needy for me.”

Your fingers tightened around his biceps. “Please, Bobby, please fuck me.”

His blue eyes met yours. “I will, baby. Let me get a condom.”

You shook your head. “It’s just us, right? Nobody else?”

Bob removed his hand from his cock, looking at you long and hard. He nodded. “Sunny, from day one it’s always only been you. The minute you said you were mine, there was no one else.”

“Then I want to feel you,” you whispered. “All of you. I never want anything to stand between us again.”

He nodded, reaching down and sliding the tip of his cock into your entrance, punching a moan out of your mouth. You buried your face into Bob’s shoulder, eyes pinched shut, as the force of his cock splitting you in half took over. “Oh, fuck,” Bob growled against you. Your walls were clenched around him, so tight and warm and he had never felt anything that felt one tenth as good as you did. “Gotta relax, darlin’. It’s too tight.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, letting out a breath, trying to relax.

Bob leaned down, brushing hair out of your eyes, locking his lips gently on yours. You focused on the warmth of his kiss as he slowly worked his hard cock inside of you, spreading your legs wider, stretching you to your fullest point. When he was all the way in, he broke the kiss with a loud groan. “Oh, my God,” Bob whimpered.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in tighter. “Feel so full,” you moaned, locking your legs over his waist. “Holy shit.”

Bob rocked his hips slowly forward, pressing himself deeper before pulling back and filling you again. You gasped as he moaned softly into your ear, his grunts making you even wetter, your walls sliding softly against his cock as he pressed the spongy walls inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He leaned back onto his knees, tugging your legs and hips higher, pressing a series of kisses to your calf. “Fuck, Sunny, I love you so much. Feel so fucking good, goddamn.”

He was close, you could tell. So were you. You reached one hand down, brushing against your clit. “Come with me,” you murmured. “Please, Bobby, come inside of me. Fill me.”

Bob groaned loudly, leaning forward, plunging his cock deeper inside of you and you gasped, pressing down hard on your clit, circling the bud quickly as you watched his beautiful face contort in ecstasy. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna come. Darlin’, I’m coming!”

And then he was spilling inside of you as you shouted his name, your orgasm breaking as he shot hot cum against your walls, collapsing softly at your side, his cock still trapped inside your wet, tight walls. You ran one hand over his back, tucking a leg over his hip, holding him close. “Bobby,” you whispered. “I love you more than I even realized was possible. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

He let out a sigh, running one hand over your cheek. “I’ll love you forever, Reid.”

***

“Listen, Reid—”

You held up a hand, stopping Jake mid sentence. “Not tonight, Seresin,” you said quietly. You looked over at Bob. He was grinning from ear to ear, standing next to the old wooden piano as Bradley pressed down on the keys.

It was Bob’s twenty-ninth birthday. The two of you had officially known each other for a decade. It felt like just yesterday that you had stopped him after class to ask if he would tutor you.

If only you had met him sooner. If only you had more time.

Jake opened his mouth but one look at your frown and he closed it, hanging his head softly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, walking away.

You leaned against the bar. It wasn’t often that you got to watch Bob lose himself in a moment anymore. It always felt like his mind was elsewhere. He was worried about the future. He was panicking. He so rarely was in the moment. You loved to watch him smile. Watch him enjoy himself. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

Once Bradley had finished a few songs, Bob patted him on the shoulder, making his way over to you at the bar, winding his arm around your waist, dragging you in closer, planting a kiss on your lips softly.

“Hi darlin’.”

You smiled up at him. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

Bob nodded, sliding his hand into yours, leading you out through the back door.

The two of you slipped off your shoes, setting off in the cool sand. You were reminded of only a month before when you had snuck out onto the beach during Jake’s birthday party. That was the night that had unraveled everything.

The moon was bright, tossing a blanket of light on the dark ocean waves. You walked in silence for a few moments before Bob turned to you. “Sunny?”

“Yeah baby?”

He leaned in, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. “You know I love you, right?”

You grinned. “Always.”

Bob smiled softly. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared. All I know is that I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left.”

He stopped and shoved his hand in his pocket, emerging a moment later with a plain gold band. You looked at the ring and then up at him in shock.

“We don’t have to get married or have a wedding or any of that. I know it’s not your style,” he said. “But I just want to know that when it happens, we belonged to each other. That’s all I want.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you nodded furiously. “I’ll be yours, Robert Floyd. Always have been.” You held out your shaky left hand and Bob slid the ring on carefully.

He smiled down at you. “That’s Meemaw’s ring, by the way. She told me a long time ago to give it to you.”

You pressed your hand close to your heart. “Now I feel bad that I didn’t get you a gift,” you whispered.

Bob leaned down, pulling you closer to him, your face pressed against his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his core. “You’re my gift.”

***

The last box of your things finally got shipped from Brooklyn. It had somehow gotten lost by the moving company, arriving months later than the rest of your items.

You frowned, standing at the door looking down at the box. “Bobby?”

“Coming sweetheart.”

A moment later, he appeared at the front door in a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. Temperatures were starting to dip as you entered fall.

Bob looked at the box. “What is that?”

“It’s the last box, that one they lost when they were moving my stuff,” you said. “Can you help me get it inside?”

“Of course, honey.” You scooted to the side, holding open the door as Bob lifted the box, carrying it into the dining room where he plopped it gently on the table.

You grabbed a scissors, slicing through the tape, peering inside. It felt like another lifetime ago that you had boxed everything up in your Greenpoint loft.

Peering into the box, you spotted a pair of old headphones, and then several manilla folders. “What is all of this?” Bob asked, pulling out folder after folder.

You shrugged, opening one of the folders up, finding tax returns from a few years back. “Paperwork from my office, I think. I don’t even remember packing if we’re being honest.”

You were flipping through old travel magazines — why had you bothered to keep those? — when Bob’s voice cut through the empty air. “Reid?”

You looked up. Something about his tone. Bob held up a piece of paper in his hand, Mount Sinai’s logo embossed at the top.

“What is this?”

Squinting, it took a moment for you to realize. When you did, your heart sank a bit. You pulled out a chair, sitting down. Bob followed suit. “When I first got diagnosed, the doctor said that no matter what route we took for treatment, I should look into freezing my eggs.”

Bob’s eyes widened. “Did you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I did. They got twenty four eggs.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Apparently it’s a decent amount.”

Bob looked down at the paper. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I actually hadn’t remembered until now,” you said quietly. “There’s a lot to think about.”

Bob reached over and put his hand on yours. “I know. How can I help?”

It was simple. Everything you had, you wanted to go to Bob. The two of you met with a lawyer who helped draw up your medical requests.

Later that night, just as you were about to fall asleep, Bob rolled over so you were face to face. “Sunny?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes were still closed.

“Honey, can I ask you something?”

You opened one eye. “What is it, Bobby?”

“I can’t stop thinking about the eggs.”

You frowned, sitting up against the pillows. “The frozen eggs?”

He nodded.

“What about them?”

“What if we had a baby?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Bob was propped up on one elbow, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight that fell where the gap in the curtains couldn’t reach. “I’m completely serious. I want to be a dad, I’ve always wanted to be a dad. And those eggs are there. They’re healthy.”

“I can’t carry a baby,” you whispered. “Not with the cancer.”

“We get a surrogate.” Bob sat up, taking your hands in his. “If you don’t want a baby, I understand. I would never force you to. But darlin’, there’s nobody else I would want to have a child with. Even if we only have a few months together with the baby, or if we have five years, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we would love that baby more than anything in this world.”

You looked at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re truly serious.”

He nodded. “I am. I want to have a baby with you, Reid Coleman. A little girl with your eyes. A little boy with your smile. I’ll take anything. I want to be a dad. And I want to raise a baby with you.”

“Let me think about it,” you whispered.

“Of course.”

You laid back down, Bob’s arms wrapped around you from behind. Kids. Babies. You had never thought too long or hard about kids until you were told it was unlikely you could have them. And then they started to dominate your thoughts.

You knew Bob would be a good dad. He would be an excellent dad. The only thing you worried about was leaving them.

At least they would have each other. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

You floated off to sleep, the image of Bob holding his newborn child in his arms tattooed across your mind.

***

You were sitting on the beach in a foldout chair, wearing a pair of linen pants and one of Bob’s old button downs, your bare feet buried in the sand as you watched the team play a confusing game of football. You had never been one for sports, so you didn’t even bother to learn the rules or objectives. Simply watching them all in their shirtless states was enough.

Bob came over during a halftime break and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey darlin’,” he whispered. “Doing OK?”

You nodded up at him. “Great. Can you just do me one favor?”

“Anything.”

You pinched the material of his yellow shirt. “Lose the shirt, baby. Let me watch my man destroy those idiots and look good doing it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head but peeling off his shirt, dropping it on the ground near you. Your eyes grazed over his chiseled stomach and muscular arms and you grinned. “Better?” he asked.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Now kiss me please.”

Bob leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. You reached out a hand, running it through his hair, your tongue darting into his mouth softly. He pulled back with a groan. “Honey, you’re gonna get me all hot and bothered,” he whispered and you looked down at a smirk to his shorts which were already growing tight.

“Go play,” you whispered. “We’ll finish this when you’re back.”

Bob groaned and licked his lips, looking at you one last time before jogging back to the group.

They were all beautiful. It was almost hard to choose who to look at. All tanned, taunt limbs, gorgeous faces, wide smiles. Once the game wrapped, everyone headed inside for a drink. Bob helped you put the chair and your stuff in his truck.

On the way back to the Hard Deck, he turned to you. “Sunny?”

“What is it sweetheart?”

“Have you, um.” Bob looked flustered. “Have you thought about what we were discussing the other night?”

Your chest tightened. He meant the baby discussion.

The truth was, it was the only thing you had been able to think about. You were twenty-nine, going on thirty. You never saw yourself as one of those women. The ones who longed for a child, who so obviously were made for motherhood. Your childhood had been rocky at best. Your mother was about as good of a role model as a can of beer was to an alcoholic.

And yet, something had changed over the last six months since the diagnosis. You started to notice babies and children out and about with their parents. At the store, on a sidewalk, on the beach. You would smile and wave and make little goo-goo noises to kids as they passed. And your heart would swell when they smiled back, chubby fingers raised in a wave.

You turned your eyes to Bob’s. “Yeah, honey, I’ve thought about it.”

“What do you think?” he whispered.

You shook your head and watched Bob’s face fall. Immediately, you pressed your hands to both of his cheeks. “Sorry, that wasn’t a no head shake. It was an I don’t know.” You sighed. “I want a baby,” you confessed, the first time you had said it outloud ever. “I just don’t know if I could do that to you. Leave you to raise a baby by yourself.” You shook your head. “That would be so incredibly selfish of me.”

Bob placed his hands over yours. “I’m asking you to do it,” he whispered. “It’s not selfish, Reid. It’s the most selfless thing a person could ever do.”

“OK,” you whispered.

Bob’s cerulean blue eyes lit up, his mouth dropping wide. “OK?”

You nodded and he let out a whoop, pulling you into his arms, spinning you around quickly before setting you back down and planting his lips on yours. You grinned, drawing your hands back, running your thumb over the cool metal of the ring on your fourth finger. So far, nobody had asked about the ring.

The two of you walked back to the bar hand in hand. Natasha was sitting outside on the patio, drinking a beer, her arms propped up against the wooden railing. She smiled at the two of you as you approached, taking in your uncontrollable smiles.

“What’s with you two?” she asked. “You look like cats that ate the canary.”

Bob looked at you. “Do we tell her?”

You squeezed his hand. “It’ll come out eventually.”

Bob grinned. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Natasha’s mouth dropped. Shock was written all over her face. It took her a second to compose herself, and when she did she shook her head. “Wait, but how. I thought with the cancer…” She trailed off.

You nodded. “I can’t carry the baby. But before I left New York, I froze my eggs. So we’re going to have to find a surrogate. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s what we want.”

You looked up at Bob. He was glowing. If he was this happy now, you couldn’t imagine how happy he would be when he held his child in his arms for the first time.

Natasha’s voice pulled you out of your daydream. “I’ll do it.”

The two of you turned to her, eyes wide. “What?” you breathed.

She nodded, a firm confirmation. She was serious. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your surrogate.”

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#bob floyd fluff #bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x oc #friends dont #best friend fic #jake seresin #natasha phoenix trace

195 notes · View notes

blackwidownat2814 · 2 years

Text

Pride & Prejudice & Partridges (J.Seresin)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x plus size!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x librarian!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Garcia!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x latina!reader

Word Count: 4580

A/N: Written for @jupitercomet's 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. I had Day 1-Secret Santa. This is also my first Top Gun Maverick fic, so go easy on me! I want to thank the wonderful and amazing @jobean12-blog for letting me bounce ideas off of her and helping me break through my writer's block. Also, many, many thanks to @navybrat817, for her firsthand knowledge of Navy life and for answering my countless questions. You two rock!

Triggers: Death of parents (just mentioned, no specifics), negative talk about self, body image issues. Angst with a happy ending.

‼️⚠️I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted anywhere else but on my own blog.⚠️‼️

Masterlist

You were content with the quiet life you led. Working as a librarian on a US Navy installation allowed you that freedom. NAS Miramar wasn’t small, but it wasn’t huge either. When you worked in the public library system, you were busy quite often…and it was starting to wreak havoc on your mental health. Luckily, around the time you were trying to decide what to do with your career, your brother, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, called you to let you know he was going to be stationed at NAS Miramar for the foreseeable future to be part of the now permanent Dagger Squad.

So, you moved to San Diego and onto the installation with Mickey, leaving your hometown behind (it didn’t really bother you to leave because your parents had been gone for several years and your introverted nature didn’t grant you close friends). He helped you get the job at the library and that was that.

The day you finished unpacking your things, Mickey told you he was going to take you out to meet the rest of the squad because the only person you knew was Reuben and you needed to meet some new people in your new home:

“Are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to invade your group or anyth--"

“Sis…really? This night is for you! I’ve told them all about you and how excited I am to have you with me again.” You smiled big and giggled.

“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart, aren’t ya little bro?”

“Shut up”, pouted Mickey. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to you.

“Thanks. Te quiero, hermanito.”

“I love you too.”

When you and Mickey arrived at the local watering hole, The Hard Deck, you were instantly greeted by Reuben. He pulled you into a tight hug, calling you Little Garcia (which was a ridiculous nickname, seeing as how you were older than Mickey by a year). Shortly after that, Bob, Rooster, Phoenix, and Coyote showed up. You were all sitting around one of the pool tables, drinking beers (in your case, it was an ice cold Dr. Pepper because you weren’t big on drinking) when you heard the most suave and cocky sounding, Texas accent ever:

“What do we have here?” You saw Phoenix roll her eyes and smile.

“Little Garcia, this here is Bagman.”

“Hangman.”

“Whatever.” Hangman laughed and pulled Phoenix into a hug. When she let him go, he turned to look at you.

“So, you’re Fanboy’s sister.” You nodded.

“Y-yes. That’d, uh, that’d be me.”

“Well m’dear, we’re all really happy that Fanboy has you close by again.”

“I’m glad to be here Hangman.” He smiles big and sits on the barstool next to you.

“Please, call me Jake.”

“Okay, Jake.” If this man keeps looking at you with those gorgeous green eyes, you were going to melt.

“So, tell me Little Garcia, what do you do?”

“I’m a librarian. I’m going to be working on base and living with Mickey”, you replied. “Since I was moving down here, he managed to get out of the barracks and into a small house on base.” Jake clapped his hands together and looked around at the group.

“You’re going to be living on the base? That means you deserve your own callsign!” The rest of the squad voiced their agreement. “The question is, what do we call you?”

“How about Libby?” suggested Bob. He made a face when everyone groaned. “I know, I know.” A few of the others made their own suggestions of library related callsigns before Jake stood from his spot next to you.

“I’ve got it!” Jake turned back to you with a huge smile on his face, “How about…Dewey?”

You felt heat crawling up your neck because of the way he was looking at you, like you were the only woman in the room. You knew that that wasn’t possible, that someone as good looking and amazingly talented and a hero like Jake would never look at someone like you that way. Why would a man who looked like he was crafted by Zeus himself look at a chubby librarian twice, when he could have women like Phoenix, or your cousin Isabella (who stole the first boy you ever really had a chance with, away)?

“I like it. Thanks, Jake.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight.

Oh Lord. You were in trouble.

That was a year ago. Over the last year, it was like you became an honorary member of the Dagger Squad. They became the family you and Mickey were missing. Most of them came to visit you at work. One of those people was Jake. The first time he came by, a month after the two of you met, you were shelving books and he’d snuck up on you, giving you a moment worthy of fan fiction itself.

You stepped up onto the plastic footstool and filed the book in its spot, on the topmost shelf. You had an earbud in and were singing quietly along to “Remember Me” from Coco since you very rarely ever got someone in the library this early in the day, which meant you didn’t hear the door open, and you didn’t hear footsteps coming towards you. You felt something tap you on the shoulder and you let out a scream, feeling yourself tilt backwards. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the inevitable pain, but it never came. Instead, you felt the warm embrace of familiar arms.

“You can open your eyes now, darlin’.” Opening one eye, you saw Jake smiling at you. “Sorry I scared you, Dewey.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. I should’ve been paying more attention and–” It was then that you realized Jake was holding you bridal style. “Oh my God! Jake! Put me down! You’re going to hurt your back or something and I’m going to get in trouble for breaking government property. I’m way too hea–”

You would’ve rambled on had Jake not stopped you.

“Dewey. I’m going to need you to relax. You’re not going to mess up my back and you’re not going to get in trouble. I have trained a long time and I don’t want to sound like a cocky bastard–” You gave him a judgmental eyebrow raise and a Look. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Seriously Jake, I don’t want to hurt you!” Jake rolled his eyes but put you down carefully. “Thank you. I know you work out..I mean look at you, of course you do. I just-lifting weights and doing bench presses is one thing, Jake…”

“Dewey…”

“Thank you for saving me from getting hurt”, you say before Jake can continue with whatever platitudes someone as good looking, built, and thin as him can come up with. You smooth out the skirt of your bright red button front chiffon dress and look up at him since he has at least half a foot on you. “Is there something I can help you find today, Lt. Seresin?”

Jake’s jaw clenched and you could tell he wanted to say more. What you couldn’t figure out was why he seemed to care this much about how you thought of yourself. He was just a friend.

“Uh, no…no.” He ran a hand through his light brown hair. “My sister is coming to visit next week with my nieces for Family Weekend. Are y’all doing anything special?”

“Of course!” You gave him a big smile and proceeded to run through the activities that were planned.

The following week, you got to meet Jesse and Isla Seresin. The bonus was getting to see ‘Uncle Jake’ in action first hand and you hated it because every minute you spent in his presence was making you fall in love with him. This was something you didn’t want because you knew you couldn’t afford a broken heart. Not again. You’d only recently been able to put your heart back together finally coming to term with the loss of your parents. You weren’t going to let a crush derail that progress.

Over the next 10 months, Jake visited you at the base library often, acting like that first conversation between you two never happened. You’d ask after Isla and Jesse, how school was going and when they’d be back to visit again. Jake would even bring you gifts from the girls for their ‘favorite librarian’ when he’d come back from visiting them.

Sometimes Jake would come to the library because he needed to research something for a mission or because he needed to develop some sort of lesson plan now that he was an instructor at TOPGUN. Sometimes he’d come by just to chat. During those chats, you found yourself opening up to him. One day in October, almost a year after you moved to San Diego, Jake and some of the squad were at the library helping with the Halloween Festival for the kids the library staff was throwing in the parking lot. You and Jake were manning the ‘Balloon Dart’ booth, chatting away the time while waiting for some new challengers.

“You know Dewey, in all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what your favorite book is”, said Jake.

“Is this you asking?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Pride & Prejudice”, you replied, keeping your eyes on your feet. “I know, you don’t have to say it. It’s totally cliché.”

“It’s not cliché at all. It’s a good book.” You looked up at Jake’s comment.

“You like Pride & Prejudice?”

“Your Lizzie Bennett is showing, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries. I read it for school, and I just really liked it”, said Jake. “So, why is it your favorite?”

“It’s one of the first books my mom and I read together”, you replied. Smiling sadly, you continue. “She’d read me a chapter a night. It took a while, but we finally finished it. Afterwards, we borrowed the six-disc BBC mini-series from our local library and watched it all in one day. Colin Firth was so handsome and a perfect Mr. Darcy. Then in 2005, she surprised me with tickets to the movie as a late birthday gift and I just adored Matthew MacFadyen’s version of Darcy. It fed my love of reading, which then inspired my choice in career. Before they died, mom and I had been looking for the ‘Peacock edition’ of the book that was released in 1894. It’s one of the most valuable and gorgeous versions because of the cover and illustrations by Hugh Thomson. I had almost tracked one down, but then…”

You looked away, not wanting to let Jake see you cry, but were unsuccessful. Jake reached over and tipped your face up so he could look you in the eye, and wrapped his free hand around your ample waist, pulling you closer.

“I’m sorry about your parents. It can’t have been easy for you and Fanboy.” He placed the hand he’d had under your chin on your cheek and wiped away the few tears that escaped.

“It wasn’t. He hides it better than I do, but he was just as broken. It’s why I’m so thankful for Reuben and the rest of you. When I couldn’t be there for him, all of you were…so, thank you, Jake.”

The way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees, and you saw him leaning towards you. Was Jake Seresin about to kiss you? Unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out because as he got closer, one of the kids ran up to the booth and you two jumped apart.

You watched him closely, out of the corner of your eye, the rest of the night. You made sure you were always busy with the kids or whatever else was needed at the booth so that you weren’t available to talk with Jake. You could tell he wanted to say something about what happened, but you really didn’t want to deal with the rejection and the explanation that it was a mistake.

As Jake was explaining the rules to one of the kids, you saw her mother fluffing her hair and adjusting her ‘assets’. She put on the biggest (fakest) smile she could when Jake turned his attention to her. You rolled your eyes as you eyeballed the diamond on her left hand. Did she think that he would just ignore that she was married and fall into her bed? You knew Jake was imperfect, but he would never stoop that low.

You loved him. You knew that now, because you gave up on trying to not fall in love with him months ago. You hoped it wasn’t obvious because you didn’t want to be that chubby girl who was in love with the hot guy and acted like a stalker. Becoming that stereotype was not going to happen.

Over the next month, you did absolutely everything in your power to avoid Jake Seresin. You changed your shifts at work as much as you could so you wouldn’t be there when you knew he had free time and if he came in when you were there, you made sure you were busy or your coworkers would take care of him for you. You didn’t go out to the Hard Deck on the weekends or anytime you knew he’d be there.

The week before Thanksgiving, you were at work when you received a visitor.

“Dewey?” You looked up from your work to see Phoenix in the doorway of your office.

“Hey Phe! Come on in.” She stepped into your office and took a seat across from you. “So, what brings you by?”

“We’ve missed you”, she said. “All of us.” The underlying meaning in her words didn’t skate past your understanding.

“I-I just can’t Phe. I won’t be able to get over him if I’m around him constantly. And I have to get over him because when he eventually finds someone–”

“Dewey, he doesn’t want to find anyone else.”

“Nat, I’m going to explain something to you, okay?” You took a deep breath and continued, “Men as good looking as Jake or Rooster or any of them don’t go for women like me. I know I’m not ugly, I never said that, but I am fat. It’s just a fact. Someone who takes care of himself like Jake is expected to be with a woman who looks like you. Like the high school trope, the quarterback and the cheerleader. I’m just the nerd who helps tutor the quarterback. Who, like an idiot, falls for him and thinks that because he was so nice to me, maybe I should tell him how I feel. When I do, he goes and laughs about it with his cheerleader girlfriend and all the other jocks.

I reached too far Nat. Like I said, I need to get over him because I need to be able to be around him when he finds his cheerleader.”

Phoenix huffed.

“I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“I’ve been dealing with this since I was a kid. I was compared to my cousin and how she looked.”

“Why didn’t you come talk to me?” Phoenix leaned forward and took your hand.

“Phe, you’ve got enough on your plate, enough to deal with”, you reply. “Besides, you’re not my therapist. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I’m already enough of a burden to Mickey. I’m his older sister and he thinks he has to take care of me.”

“Can I say something now?” she asked, and you nodded. “You are not a burden. Not to me, not to Jake, and especially not to Fanboy. He’s your brother and he loves you. Before you moved here, he may have smiled and joked around, but it never really meant much. He was just okay. After you let him know you were coming to San Diego, you should’ve seen how happy he was. His smile was huge, and his eyes didn’t look empty. You’ve made all of our lives better.”

By the time she finished, tears fell silently down your cheeks.

“Thank you, Phe. I love you, you know.”

“I love you too, Dewey.” Phoenix came around the desk and pulled you into a tight hug. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t the only reason I came to see you.” You pulled away and wiped your cheeks.

“What can I help you with?”

“Some of us are having a Friendsgiving thing next week. I wanted to know if you and Fanboy wanted to join us.”

“Um…”

“He’s going to Texas to see his family.”

“Okay then.”

Friendsgiving with Rooster, Phoenix, Reuben, and Mickey was one of the happiest times you had. After dinner, Phoenix brought out a small basket with several small pieces of paper.

“What’s this?” You looked over at your brother with a questioning look.

“Last Christmas, we all decided that a Secret Santa with the squad would be fun. Since it was a hit, we’re doing it again.” He took the basket from Phoenix and held it out to you, “It’s your first time, so you get the first draw. No take backsies, unless you get your own name.”

“Got it.” You closed your eyes and shoved your hand in the basket, rooting around for a few seconds before finally grabbing a paper. You unfolded it, shielding the paper from prying eyes. You smiled at the ‘Bob’ written on the paper. You were close enough with Bob and knew the perfect gift for him.

“When do we have to have the gifts ready?” you asked the group.

“Penny’s having a Christmas party at The Hard Deck next month on the 15th”, said Rooster. You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t making any progress in getting over the feelings you had for Jake, and you didn’t think you were ready to see him again.

“Awesome. Can’t wait.” Bob came in for Book Club all the time, so you could slip him his gift then and not have to worry about being at the party. Everyone would be so busy enjoying it, they probably wouldn’t even notice you weren’t there. How wrong you were.

Now.

Sure enough, the day before Penny’s Christmas party, Bob stopped by the library. He loved his gift; you’d gotten him a cookie decorating class that was online and prerecorded so he wouldn’t miss any of the days because of work and emphasized intricate decorating techniques.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and a big hug in thanks, promising you the first batch of cookies he made with his newfound knowledge. Before leaving, he asked if he’d see you the next day at The Hard Deck. You felt bad about lying but told him no because you had to take care of something important. In reality, you were going to hide out at the library for a few hours and then go home.

So, you did. Your phone started going off only a few minutes after everyone was supposed to be arriving at The Hard Deck. You ignored the texts from Phoenix, Mickey, Bob, and Reuben and were about to shut your phone off when a call from Mickey came through.

“What?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know, hermanita.” You rolled your eyes.

“Is there a reason you’re calling Mickey?”

“Everyone is wondering where you are.” You could hear voices and the jukebox going in the background; it sounded like a good time. “And I mean everyone.”

“Mickey…I can’t, okay? I won’t be a novelty or something he bides his time with until he finds someone better, someone prettier. Someone thinner and more appropriate for him.”

“That’s complete bullshit. And Hangman is a lot of things, but that isn’t something he’d ever do. Please believe me. When I met him, I thought he was a complete dick. The only one who didn’t was Coyote, and that’s only because they’ve been friends for years, so he knows how much of a good man Jake is.”

Mickey went on about Jake’s pros and as you were about to cut him off and hang up, you heard another voice.

“Fanboy, who are you talking to?” Jake. He’d seen your brother having a heated discussion while on the phone, and since he hadn’t seen you yet, he put two and two together.

“Don’t you say a word Mickey. Don’t you do it.”

“Um…”

“Fanboy, is it Dewey? Where is she?”

“I’m under orders to not say anything.”

“Bullshit. Tell me. Now. I need to talk to her.”

“No.” You knew your brother and you could hear his resolve weakening in his voice. Suddenly, you heard what sounded like a scuffle on the other end and shouts of Give it back Hangman! before another voice came on the line.

“Dewey? Dewey, please, tell me where you are. I need to talk to you.” You pressed ‘mute’, so he wouldn’t hear you starting to cry. “Please darlin’. Tell me where you are.”

You almost broke at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t understand why he was so determined about seeing you. You were just friends. You took a deep breath and unmuted the call.

“I’m sorry Jake, but I’m not going to do that.”

“Darlin’, pl–”

“Goodnight Jake.” You hung up and put your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’, so you could listen to music while you did some shifting and didn’t have to worry about phone calls interrupting you.

You were in a Metallica-type of mood, so you chose the correct playlist and put in your earbuds. ‘All Nightmare Long’ transitioned in to ‘Master of Puppets’ (your favorite song), and you shimmied along the aisles, shifting books around so they weren’t so tightly packed together.

Once again, you were so distracted by your task and the music, you didn’t hear someone knocking on the front door of the building or even walking in. He heard you, though. Jake called out for you, but when he didn’t get a response, he went to check your office. Seeing your things still there, he was dead quiet to find out where you were...until he heard you singing.

‘Come crawling faster (faster)

Obey your master (master)

Your life burns faster (faster)

Obey your master

Master!

Master!’

Jake took the stairs two at a time, finding you in the graphic novel section. You had your back to him, and he knew you were going to be mad, but he just had to. Unbeknownst to you, he tiptoed up to you and tapped you on the shoulder.

You let out an almighty shriek and spun around, your feet getting tangled together. Jake launched himself forward and caught you before you could fall and get hurt.

“You okay Dewey?” You smacked him on the chest and pushed him away.

“Jake Seresin! How could you do that to me?!” You pulled your earbuds out and pocketed them. You looked over at Jake and were glad to see he was looking slightly ashamed.

“I’m sorry darlin’.”

“What are you doing here Jake? I wanted to be alone.”

“I needed to see you.”

“Why? What could you possibly have to say to me right now? There’s a party with everyone there and yet you’re here, wasting your time with me.” You crossed your arms and leaned against the shelf.

“First of all, you’re not there, so not everyone is there.” Jake reached behind him and pulled a wrapped, rectangular something he’d tucked into his back pocket. “Secondly, I needed to give you this. I’m your Secret Santa.’

“You could’ve just given it to Mickey to give to me.”

“Dewey, just take it, please.”

“Fine.” You reached over and took the package from Jake’s hands. You were carefully unwrapping the gift when Jake spoke up.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t b–”

“Don’t lie to me. I may act like an idiot, but I’m not one. Anytime I go to visit you, either you’re not there because you changed your schedule, or you get one of the others to deal with me. When we all get together at the Hard Deck, you never show. Fanboy feeds us whatever lie you tell him, but I know better. I know you, something happened to make you avoid me and the others.”

“Jake…” Before you could continue, you pushed the wrapping paper of the gift to reveal a book. A copy of the ‘Peacock Edition’ of Pride & Prejudice, originally published in 1894, making this a first printing. You carefully opened the book to look through it. No creases, the spine was perfect for a book that was almost 130 years old, and it was beautiful.

“Do you like it?” In your astonishment, you’d forgotten he was standing there.

“Jake, Jake, I-I-I can’t believe you remembered?”

“I did.” You felt tears starting to form and threatened to fall down your cheeks.

“Jake, I c-can’t accept this. It-It’s too much.”

“It’s not too much darlin’. I just hope it makes you feel closer to your mom.” The tears fell in a steady flow now. Jake rushed forward and took your face in your hands. “Please don’t cry baby.”

You shut your eyes and basked in the feeling of his hands on your cheeks.

“Why did you do this Jake? This isn’t something you do for a friend for a Secret Santa gift.” You hear Jake chuckle.

“Open your eyes darlin’.” You took a deep breath and slowly opened your eyes to look into green ones. “You know why, Dewey.”

“I need you to say it. I won’t believe it unless you do.”

“I love you, Miss Garcia.”

“Jake…” You gave him a big watery smile.

“I know you have your reservations because of some weird reason that you think you don’t deserve me just because of the way you look. Baby, that can’t be further from the truth. I love you because of who you are, of what you’ve overcome, of what you’ve done–”

“I’m just a librarian, Jake. I’m not anyone special. But you, you’re a literal hero. I read, you fly planes and save the world…how could I ever measure up?”

“Darlin’, you’re a hero too, to the girls. I can never talk with Isla and Jesse without hearing Miss Garcia this and Miss Garcia that and When can we see Miss Garcia again, Uncle Jake? They were both having trouble with their reading, but after meeting you, they’re the top readers in each of their classes.”

“I–” Before you could say anything else, Jake surged forward and kissed you. You’d only ever been kissed a few times in your life, but this blew the other kisses out of the water, it obliterated them. It reminded you of The Princess Bride, and the thought brought a smile to your face.

When the lack of air finally became an issue, you pulled away and leaned your forehead against Jake’s.

“I love you too, Jake, so much.”

Jake smiled that perfect smile of his and kissed you again. So focused on the kiss, neither of you heard the footsteps up the stairs, and didn’t know Reuben, Mickey, Rooster, Coyote, Phoenix, and Bob were watching the two of you make out until Coyote spoke up.

“Yeah buddy! Get your girl!” You and Jake broke apart in surprise.

“What the hell guys?!”

#Jake Seresin #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x female!reader #Jake Seresin x Latina!reader #Jake Seresin x plus size!reader #Jake Seresin angst #Jake Seresin fluff #Jake Seresin fanfiction #12 Days of Christmas #jupitercomet

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floridaboiler · 11 months

Text

What Is The Main Ingredient of WD-40?

Before you read to the end, does anybody know what the main ingredient of WD-40?

No Cheating.....

WD-40 ~ Who knew!

I had a neighbour who bought a new pickup.

I got up very early one Sunday morning and saw that someone had spray

painted red all around the sides of this beige truck (for some unknown

reason).

I went over, woke him up, and told him the bad news.

He was very upset and was trying to figure out what to do ....

probably nothing until Monday morning, since nothing was open.

Another neighbour came out and told him to get his WD-40 and clean it off.

It removed the unwanted paint beautifully and did not harm his paint

job that was on the truck. I was impressed!

WD-40 who knew?

"Water Displacement #40".

The product began from a search for a rust preventative solvent and

degreaser to protect missile parts.

WD-40 was created in 1953, by three technicians at the San Diego

Rocket Chemical Company.

Its name comes from the project that was to find a 'Water

Displacement' Compound.

They were finally successful for a formulation, with their fortieth

attempt, thus WD-40. The 'Convair Company' bought it in bulk to

protect their atlas missile parts.

Ken East (one of the original founders) says there is nothing in WD-40

that would hurt you.

When you read the 'shower door' part, try it. It's the first thing

that has ever cleaned that spotty shower door. If yours is plastic,

it works just as well as on glass. It's a miracle!

Then try it on your stove-top.

It's now shinier than it's ever been.

You'll be amazed.

WD-40 Uses:

1. Protects silver from tarnishing.

2. Removes road tar and grime from cars.

3. Cleans and lubricates guitar strings.

4. Gives floor that 'just-waxed' sheen without making them slippery.

5. Keeps the flies off of Cows, Horses, and other Farm Critters.

6. Restores and cleans chalkboards.

7. Removes lipstick stains.

8. Loosens stubborn zippers.

9. Untangles jewellery chains.

10. Removes stains from stainless steel sinks.

11. Removes dirt and grime from the barbecue grill.

12. Keeps ceramic/terracotta garden pots from oxidising.

13. Removes tomato stains from clothing.

14. Keeps glass shower doors free of water spots.

15. Camouflages scratches in ceramic and marble floors.

16. Keeps scissors working smoothly.

17. Lubricates noisy door hinges on both home and vehicles doors.

18. It removes that nasty tar and scuff marks from the kitchen

flooring. It doesn't seem to harm the finish and you won't have to

scrub nearly as hard to get them off. Just remember to open some

windows if you have a lot of marks.

19. Remove those nasty bug guts that will eat away the finish

on your car if not removed quickly!

20. Gives a children's playground gym slide a shine for a super fast slide.

21. Lubricates gearshift and mower deck lever for ease of handling on

riding mowers.

22. Rids kids rocking chair and swings of squeaky noises.

23. Lubricates tracks in sticking home windows and makes them easier to open.

24. Spraying an umbrella stem makes it easier to open and close.

25. Restores and cleans padded leather dashboards in vehicles, as well

as vinyl bumpers.

26. Restores and cleans roof racks on vehicles.

27. Lubricates and stops squeaks in electric fans.

28. Lubricates wheel sprockets on tricycles, wagons and bicycles for

easy handling.

29. Lubricates fan belts on washers and dryers and keeps them running smoothly.

30. Keeps rust from forming on saws and saw blades, and other tools.

31. Removes grease splatters from stove-tops.

32. Keeps bathroom mirror from fogging.

33. Lubricates prosthetic limbs.

34. Keeps pigeons off the balcony (they hate the smell).

35. Removes all traces of duct tape.

36. Folks even spray it on their arms, hands, and knees to relieve

arthritis pain.

37. Florida 's favourite use is: 'cleans and removes love bugs from

grills and bumpers.'

38. The favourite use in the state of New York , it protects the Statue

of Liberty from the elements.

39. WD-40 attracts fish. Spray a little on live bait or lures and you

will be catching the big one in no time. Also, it's a lot cheaper than

the chemical attractants that are made for just that purpose. Keep

in mind though, using some chemical laced baits or lures for fishing

are not allowed in some states.

40. Use it for fire ant bites. It takes the sting away immediately and

stops the itch.

41. It is great for removing crayon from walls. Spray it on the marks

and wipe with a clean rag.

42. Also, if you've discovered that your teenage daughter has washed

and dried a tube of lipstick with a load of laundry, saturate the

lipstick spots with WD-40 and rewash. Presto! The lipstick is gone!

43. If you spray it inside a wet distributor cap, it will displace the

moisture, allowing the engine to start.

My discovery, Ants don't like it..................

P.S.

As for that Basic, Main Ingredient.......

Well.... it's FISH OIL....

Now This Is Definitely Worth SHARING!!

#WD-40

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dingochef · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: The jackass you wrote off last night seeks you out for an apology. At least you get a baseball game out of it.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: I'm just here for the baseball.

You're coming back from your morning run, endorphins pumping through your body, when a text notification from an unknown number flashes across the screen of your phone.

Unknown Number: Hey, it's Jake the Jackass from the bar last night. Just wanted to apologize again and thank you for the apparently needed ego check.

You: Glad I could provide some much needed grounding. How did you get my number?

Unknown Number: Lydia ended up back here with Rooster last night. I asked her when she briefly emerged from their sex den.

You: Ahh sweet traitorous Lydia. Anyway, I accept the apology. Bye and have a nice life.

Unknown Number: That's abrupt, lol. Let me try to redeem myself at least. I've got two home plate tickets to the Padres game today. Interested in joining me?

You consider the offer, a free ticket to a game and something to do this afternoon. In an unusual fit of impulse you grab your phone and reply.

You: Sure, why not. I'll meet you at the entrance opposite the convention center at 12:30.

Unknown Number: Sounds great, it's a date. See you then.

You: It's not a date, it's amends. Especially if I buy the beer.

You don't receive a response. you save his number in your phone as Jackass, Jake in the last name first format.

Jake the Jackass has such a nice alliteration to it. Looking at the clock you've got just enough time to clean up, shove some food down your gullet, and catch the ferry from Coronado Island over to the stadium.

It's a beautiful day that happens more often than not in San Diego when you get off the ferry and walk towards Petco Park. You can see Jake waiting from a distance, he's easy to pick out with the ramrod military posture, sun lightened blond hair waving gently in the wind, and those ubiquitous aviator sunglasses. Are they contractually required to wear them all the time?

You're about 50 feet away when he spots you and you can see the smile bloom in his face in recognition as you approach. He opens his arms for a hug and to your own surprise you reciprocate the gesture. The warmth of his hand seeps through the light cotton sundress you chose for today and almost sears where your bare skin meets his. With the sensible sandals you're wearing he's almost a foot taller than you and you feel very small, yet safe in his arms. Again you get the woodsy smell of his aftershave and think how nice he smells. He pulls back and says,

"I wasn't sure you were going to come. Thought you might want to finish grinding my ego into the ground."

You laugh and reply,

"I keep my word. Besides I figure anyone who's enough of a glutton for punishment to try again is probably worth a second chance. That and a tiny soft spot in my heart that decided at least I get out to a Padres game. It's hard to find someone to go with sometimes."

You start walking towards the turnstile to enter the stadium.

"Lydia and Beth, not big sports fans?" He asks.

"Hardly, the funny thing is that I work with a whole lot of dudes who love baseball, but I just can't imagine spending time with them outside of work without them getting the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be?" He asks waggling his eyebrows.

You point at him,

"That one. For some reason I can't just hang out with a guy from work without them thinking it's more than just someone to hang with and watch some baseball. They try to make it more and it gets real awkward at work when I don't reciprocate. I dated one guy from work and it got pretty serious before it went down in spectacular flames."

You make explosion gestures with your hands.

"Ended up leaving that job, it got so bad, but that led me to your job at Lockheed Martin so it works out in the end."

You take a deep breath, you usually don't reveal that much personal info so early. You know you have trust issues. Jake's brows have furrowed into what you read as anger when thinking about some long ago asshole. For some reason the thought of him wanting to kick some guys ass for you makes you feel fuzzy, then you can feel your feminist brain sigh in disappointment. Sensing the mood has shifted too far towards serious, you laugh your nervous laugh, and point over to the concession stand and ask,

"You got drinks last night so it's your turn. What do you want?"

Jake surprisingly goes along easily with your offer and says,

"Stone Hazy IPA."

Most guys seem affronted that you want to pay your fair share for a date, another ex had called it emasculating when you bought dinner or drinks and for the fact that you made more money than him. You pick a lighter lager from Ballast Point along with a bottle of water.

You've settled into your seats, drinks in tow just as the pregame announcements start. The national anthem plays and you see just how ingrained military habits can be when Jake rises automatically to that perfect posture and removes his sunglasses and raises his hand over his heart and sings surprisingly well along with the music. His voice is mellow and deep and just a charming amount off key in a couple places of the song. An image of you lying your head on his naked chest and feeling that voice reverberate flashes through your brain. Quickly, you shake it away to applaud the end of the anthem and the first pitch.

"These seats are great," you offer to keep the conversation going. You're just far enough down the third base line that we've got a good view of the batter, but still close enough to action that we can hear the catcher trash talking the batters.

"How'd you score these?"

"One of my buddies has season tickets, but got called out to a new assignment and knew I was going to be in the area so he gifted me the rest of the season since he can't use them."

"Nice friend, if you've got these seats all season, I might be more likely to hang out with you again."

"Aha, so the way into the Ice Queen's heart is through baseball, who knew?"

"I've got a few passions in life, you just have to dig a little deeper to get to know them. So, I've got a question, how are you so well acquainted with Frozen? You’re not exactly the market demographic for Frozen. Are you a secret super fan of Disney?"

He laughs,

"Not a secret super fan of Disney, although the Lion King did break my little 10 year old heart. First time I cried at a movie. I've got two nieces who are eight and five. Right in that target demographic. I babysit them occasionally when I'm back in Texas."

"So what does the Seresin family situation look like?" you ask.

"Painfully middle class white, my parents have been married since the beginning of time, met in college. Had my brother pretty early, and a few years later I came along. Dad was a doctor, my older brother is too. Mom had a Physics degree from UT but never had a chance to use it as she stayed home with us and didn't work. Grew up in Austin as the all American family."

"Wow, high achieving family. Imagine being the disappointment as a fighter pilot."

"Who says I'm the disappointment? Mike is just a doctor." He says in mock offense.

"What does the…I don't even know your last name. I just saved you as Elsa Ice in my phone."

You give him a mock glare, "Matthews, so you can correct that now. To be fair I saved you as Jake Jackass in my phone. We'll see how the day goes to see if you upgrade that status. The Matthews family is also painfully bland and white. My Dad retired from the Navy after his service in Vietnam, came back to Michigan and met my mom at a house party at Michigan State. Dad's an automotive engineer and Mom taught high school math for many years. Grew up in a Lansing suburb. I'm the oldest, I have a sister who's 3 years younger than me. She's a tattoo artist in Chicago."

"That's at least a little bit interesting, do you have any of her work on you?"

A mischievous smirk creeps onto your lips as you respond,

"Yeah, I've got a few pieces of hers on me. She's the only one I'd ever let tattoo me. I'd show you, but that would probably earn me a public indecency ticket."

You slyly wink at the last sentence and enjoy the way Jake slightly chokes on his beer as the thought registers.

After a slight coughing fit, Jake regains his smooth demeanor. "As you informed me last night you've got a PhD in aerospace engineering from Stanford, did you go to Michigan State for undergrad?"

"Nope, love my family dearly but I needed some distance so I went to Notre Dame. "

He laughs and you can see those charming laugh lines peeking out from the sides of his aviators. "I get that, I've got some family legacy in the Air Force and wanted to earn my place on my own merits, not on my last name."

"You go to the Naval Academy then?"

He nods in the affirmative,

"That must have been anarchy when you made that choice."

He chuckles at the memory,

"Nearly gave my grandfather a heart attack and almost got my ass beat by uncles and cousins. But I kind of enjoy being the black sheep."

"Yeah, my dad blew a gasket when I got into Notre Dame. He thought he was going to have to pay for it all, private out-of-state tuition made his mind melt, but luckily I got an athletic scholarship that covered most of it."

"What sport?"

Before you can reply there is a high foul ball headed towards your seats. You're seated closer to home plate than Jake and you instinctively stretch your arms up to try and catch the ball. It's coming closer and you can see that it's going to sail over your head. You, for the millionth time, curse your shortness. Suddenly you feel strong hands on your waist and you're being propelled up high enough to catch the ball. You catch the ball with a satisfying thud and whip your head around to see how you're presumably flying in the air. Jake is holding you as high as he can above his head with his long arms. His muscles are rippling but not trembling, the thought of how he could hold you up easily while fucking you against a wall flashes through your brain and a flush of heat rolls down your body and straight to your pussy. You almost drop the ball at the thought as he returns you to the ground.

"I didn't expect that, the foul ball or the complimentary flight."

He shrugs,

"It was all you, I just gave you the boost."

"Well, thank you. I've never caught a ball at a game. This is going to be an excellent addition to my desk on Monday, it'll inspire so much jealousy among my coworkers."

The game continues on at the easy pace of baseball, plenty of time to talk but not miss the action. The Padres are playing the Milwaukee Brewers so it gives you a chance to talk about your mom's roots in Wisconsin and the family legacy of cheese making.

"So, you’re telling me that you’re the first person in five generations of your mom's family not to work in a cheese factory. That is so Wisconsin it hurts." He can't stop laughing maniacally at the thought. you give him a mock punch on the arm as you roll your eyes. "I might be changing your name in my phone to Elsa Cheese Queen." He is laughing so hard that he takes his aviators off to wipe at his eyes.

"Oh my god, you’re turning into a lobster. Did you put any sunscreen on today?"

"No, thought didn't occur to me."

"What is it about guys and sunscreen? Nobody remembers, here I've got some in my purse."

You pull out a small tube of sunscreen and pull his hand over to squeeze some on his fingers. He attempts to slather it on his face leaving a few big globs along his jawline.

"Here, let me help you with that."

You reach out and blend the sunscreen along his jawline, your fingers graze over a hint of stubble. Your apparently overactive and very horny brain sends the thought of feeling that stubble tracing up your thighs. You let the thought linger and quickly hand the tube to Jake and stutter out,

"Now do me."

You mentally cringe at the innuendo, "My back," you quickly amend and turn in your seat to present your back to him. You can feel the cool lotion spread across your back with calloused hands, he gently moves the thin straps of your sundress to make sure he doesn't miss a spot. Horny brain is already piecing together scenarios where that is your bra strap and is followed by exploring lips. Rational brain manages to squeak out a thank you and retrieve the sunscreen from Jake. You settle back into your seat and Jake rests his arm on the back of your seat. You let it stay.

The game ends with the Padres winning 8-4. You're shuffling out of the game and your stomach growls. In another one of those moments of impulse you'll attribute to your horny brain you ask,

"Are you up for a bite to eat? I know a good tapas place a few blocks from here."

Jake is visibly surprised at your invite, he smiles as he replies,

"Yeah, that sounds great. I must have grown on you if you're wanting to spend more time with me. I half expected you to bolt the minute the game was over."

He smirks and cracks that toothpaste smile that you immediately rename the panty dropper.

"Ah yes, like a cute little fungus, you've grown on me. You’re not so bad, once you drop the smug idiot act."

"Fair, I can work with that…so does this mean you’re asking me on a date?"

You pause and lower your sunglasses, it's your turn to be smooth for once in your life.

@mayhemmanaged

"Why yes, Jake Seresin, will you go on a dinner date with me?"

Chapter 3

@callmemana

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

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