creativeashproductions - Tumblr blog

creativeashproductions · 18 days

Text

The Old Therebefore // Luke Castellan

Part of the “The Threads the Bind Us” blurb collection

IN WHICH: Hex does the unthinkable and creates a successful adult life. Or Hex has made peace with the ending of her former relationship with Luke. Or thought so when suddenly Hex is sitting on her acreage porch reminiscing with him on their teen years and the interlude between Luke leaving and this moment.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, May’s mental state, and nostalgia.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader (nicknamed Hex)

Words: 2.2k

Part of the “The Threads that Bind Us” blurb collection

A/N: Divider comes from @firefly-graphics.

@websterss Julieeeee look what I did!

Masterlist

It was the fifth anniversary of that night. 1,826 days, give or take, since the life you intricately built imploded. Even in the years following Luke’s disappearance from camp, the bitterness that had coated your love for him hadn’t kept you from your promise. Unlike Luke, you honoured your promises. So once the agony and heartbreak had dulled, you set out from camp to Connecticut.

The house was a pale blue with chipped white trim and flower beds just a tad overgrown. The massive tree in the front yard had a worn swing attached to the thickest branch that swayed either by the wind or the memories of a young child. There was an indent on the porch exactly where Luke had described falling and breaking his collarbone. The steps had been slick from the January snowstorm that year.

It was the Castellan home. The lights were on, and a man sat on the porch steps unmoving. Even if the godly attributes didn’t give it away, the nose and his fingers tapping a specific melody on his thighs gave him away. Even his posture.

Hermes. God of Messengers, Travellers, and Thieves. Messenger of the Gods. Or Luke’s estranged father and bane of his existence.

“He-“

“—respectfully, Hermes, I don’t want to discuss your child. I’m not your therapist nor your friend.” You sternly informed the god. You didn’t spare him another look before striding up the porch to the front door. When your hand is raised to knock, the grip of a warm hand is wrapped around your wrist.

“Fine. But taking it out on his mother—“Hermes almost winced when you cast a glare upon his features.

“Unlike you, I am not entirely a self-absorbed little errand boy for Zeus. Nor do I abandon people I love, even if Luke did it first.” You spat his name out with barely restrained disgust, “I made a promise to help, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

Hermes let you wrench your wrist from his hand and rap three times on the house. The door opened, revealing a woman about 5 feet 5 inches tall with thick black hair streaked with grey strands and a smile on her face. The shattered expression in her eyes and the blankness of her face stole your breath. May Castellan was older but still the same woman in that worn picture Luke hid under his bunk mattress; it had disappeared along with its owner.

“Hello.” May breathed, blinking until an unsettling smile coated her features, “Are you here for the cookies?”

“I am.” You spoke, deciding to keep her as calm as possible.

You toed off your boots beside the much smaller kid shoes stashed on the mud rack. The rubber sole of the Converse had a little stick man doodled on it. Luke doodled the same stick man on all the soles of his shoes to deter his siblings from swiping them.

“I made Luke’s favourite. He’s at a friend’s.” May breathed in a trance, and you wondered what year she thought it was.

Even without peeking into her mind, you could feel the splinters of her sanity cutting into your abilities. It was so fragmented that you genuinely worried if you had even a chance to mend anything.

“Mrs. Castellan, do you remember the doctor talking about new methods beyond medication and traditional therapy?” you gently asked, watching as she pulled a pan of cookies from the oven. The warmth of the appliance heated the room to almost an uncomfortable temperature.

The sight of dozens of pans of cookies around the room, varying in colour from severely underbaked beige to as dark and hard as a hockey puck.

“Oh yes.” May hummed, keeping her brown eyes on the scuffed blue porcelain mixing bowl.

“Would you be interested in trying a few sessions with me?” You questioned and found for the first time since coming that she was all there mentally.

“Would it help Luke?” It was a timid question that confused you, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Maybe.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes peered over her shoulder to the entrance of the kitchen, where Hermes was standing as quietly as possible. His eyes followed May as she puttered around the kitchen and wandered to the plush couch in the living room. The walls held pictures of Luke at different ages, until the forlorn one with barely a smile at nine years old.

“Here, love.” Hermes soothed, guiding May’s hands to the cup on the coffee table. It still held the paper and crayons with LC on the box in chicken scratch.

You saw the little touches that meant a much younger and more innocent version of Luke had been here. Did the memories of Luke haunt the halls of his house like he did at camp?

While having Hermes there was the last choice you would have made you would just have to make do. He kept urging May to listen as he told her tales from his long life. She didn’t twitch when your fingertips caressed her temples, and you toed inside her mind.

You had spent an entire year in Westport, using every weekend to untangle the strings of May’s sanity. Hermes never failed to be there to distract her and help her from fighting it. It was an intensely slow and exhausting year, but by the end, the fractures of her mind had mended. Now, it was a beautiful Kintsugi in her mind.

You left Westport to build a new life. You attended college and found a job at an independent bookstore. You had your own house. Had a promising career you were proud of. You did fairly well.

“Can you get the door?”

You hummed from your position on the rug in the living room to get back on your feet from tidying it up. You could quickly wave a hand and manipulate your energy to pick everything up, but you liked pretending to be a regular mortal. Your only worries were being on time for work and keeping up with hobbies.

“Got it!”

Your lips twitched. You found Chris Rodriguez trying to wrangle his kid into the karate uniform. You gently pushed him further away on your trip to the front door.

“Rodriguez, it’s Friday.” You spoke gazing over your shoulder while your fingers twisted the lock open, “Flag Football Friday.”

“Shit!” Chris swore, scooping Axel into his arms and racing back to the stairs. Your laugh cut off when you finally looked at the person at the front door.

Genuinely, you felt the blood drain from your face. Standing there before you with longer curls and an ease you didn’t remember. It was one Luke Castellan in the flesh.

“Hey, Hex.”

Luke faltered, peering beyond you to the frozen form of his brother holding the tiny cleats for a child. The child in question was listening intently to Clarisse.

“Now it’s only dirty if you get caught.”

“Chris, can you take Axel into the backyard and throw the football?” You questioned, refusing to look away from the man who shouldn’t be here.

You felt the fury from Clarisse’s direction and put your hand on Luke’s chest to push him out of the house. The door closed firmly, cutting off any view of your small family and life.

“How are you here? How are you alive? Aren’t you supposed to be Kronos’ vessel?” you demanded, crossing your arms and glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

Luke pushed his hands into his jeans. “Uh, I guess you guys haven’t kept in touch with camp.”

Your lips twisted, “No. The summer you left, I decided to take a page out of your book and leave.”

You caught the wince from the man and felt the slightest twinge of guilt at his reaction, but you had a right? Didn’t you?

“Is Annabeth here?” Luke asked, trying to look in the frosted glass of your bright blue door. All Luke had for communication was Iris-messaging and letters from his little sister.

“No,” you bluntly responded and elaborated out of pity, “Annabeth and Percy live in California now.”

“No way. Annabeth would never live in California! It’s too dangerous!” Luke adamantly replied, tensing his muscles. His body language took you back to his training sessions with the younger campers.

Your brows furrowed, “Oh! Shit, no, actually, Percy went missing before the Second Giant War happened. We found him at Camp Jupiter. It’s a Roman version of Camp Half-blood.”

It was rather unsettling how easy it was to revert to your old relationship with Luke. Revealing things you probably shouldn’t.

“Roman?” Luke questioned, tilting his head to the right like he had always done with his curious nature.

“Yeah. Anyway, the lovebirds attend New Rome University there. Annabeth alternates between school and travelling between Mount Olympus, New Rome and New York for her architecture work.”

“Oh.” Luke mumbled, peering at the ground, “I guess things have really changed.”

That soured your reminiscing, “Why are you here, Luke?”

“Chiron said I should start trying to repair my friendships with everyone. Can I come in?”

You gently glanced back to your house and found Clarisse stoically staring him down, “Honestly, it’s not a good idea. Clarisse would be very interested in teaching Axel about the importance of protein and using you like a skewer as an example.”

You watched Luke stumble before dropping to sit on the porch with a devastated look.

“I don’t know what happened between you leaving and now. When Ethan or I suppose Kronos, announced your disappointment, Annabeth looked everywhere for you. What made you stop?”

It was the one question you had wondered about for years: Why did he give up his plans and his servitude to Kronos? Why did he never come back? Why did he give you up so easily?

Luke twisted to peer off into the sunset, saying, “I went home to Westport. I had prepared myself for seeing my mom because it was necessary for the next part of the plan—“

“Dipping yourself in the River Styx,” you sarcastically respond, glancing over, “Ethan’s really got a big mouth.”

Luke tugged a blade of grass from the yard and started twisting it in his fingers.

“Imagine my surprise when I see the house has been repainted, the decorations and fixtures updated, and my mother preparing a feast in the kitchen with no cookie in sight.”

Your lips stretched, happy to hear May was thriving still. You really need to get back up to visit her.

“Good for her.” You sighed, dropping to sit beside him and watch the sunset with him. I last saw her three years ago at my college convocation.”

It was silent, and when he spoke, his voice cracked, “Why couldn’t I fix her?”

“I think it’s because May was never broken like Hermes described or Apollo claimed. I won’t lie and say her mind was perfect or just needed polishing. The memories were sharp, and the splintered remnants were the hardest puzzle, but I restored it enough. When Rachel became the Oracle of Delphi and the curse was fully lifted, whatever I hadn’t been able to help May restore snapped back into place.”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees, staring at the field. You’d intentionally bought your property with an excellent commute to the urban areas but still having privacy.

“So, is Axel yours?” Luke asked, glancing over to you. His barely concealed question amused you the most.

“No. He’s Chris and Clarisse’s son. He’s the best part of them.” You replied, “He brings out the best in them, too. Clarisse is incredibly patient with him. Don’t let her hear, but she’s softer with him.”

“Clarisse as a mother.” Luke chuckled, mimicking your position, drawing his long legs to his chest. “That I didn’t see coming.”

“Clarisse wants another one, but Chris refuses. He wants to be married first.” You sighed, shifting to stretch out your legs.

“They aren’t married yet?” Luke laughed, peering over, “I genuinely thought they’d be the first to run to city hall.”

“Chris didn’t want to be married and not have you there for him.”

The conversation petered out, leaving neither an uncomfortable nor peaceful silence. The two of you simply existed in that space.

“Do you think we’d be together if I hadn’t left?” Luke murmured after a few minutes. He had watched Chris rushing the child to the car with Clarisse clenching the keys in her fist. Chris refused to look back at Luke, and Clarisse staunchly looked away to avoid storming over to beat him up.

“I don’t know.” You were truthful, but it didn’t mean it didn’t feel like someone had shoved a fire spot rod into Luke’s stomach and churned his insides, “Maybe we would have been, but I made peace and laid that possibility to bed a while ago.”

You stood up from the porch and brushed off your pants, “There’s a cottage on the property in the forest you can crash in. Stay as long as you want. Chris and Clarisse built a house a mile further ahead.”

“Do you live here alone?” Luke asked, puzzled by the size of the house and the extensive land. It took him an hour to walk from the bus station in town to the house.

“No, I don’t. Besides the Rodriguez-La Rue family, I have taken in orphaned demigods.” You replied gently, opening the front door. Sometimes, this is the pause in the journey to one of the Camps. It was a team effort between the Hephaestus children, Vulcan’s children, some of Hecate’s children, and me to make this place as impenetrable as Camp Half-Blood.”

You left Luke on your porch, skillfully evading the disclosure of your relationship status.

Taglist: *Please send me an inbox to be tagged

#luke castellan x fem!reader #caitsy and ash productions #Caitsy *~* The Threads that Bind Us collection #PJO x fem!reader #luke castellan x you

9 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 18 days

Text

Ancient Greece AU Divider

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requests are OPEN!

Buy Me A Coffee - if you’re feeling generous!

Dividers List

366 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 28 days

Text

Shadows of Haven // Luke Castellan

IN WHICH: Reader's been a sleeper agent for Kronos longer than most campers have been at Camp Half-Blood. Patiently waiting for the last piece of the plan it's a pleasant surprise that that piece happens to be the boy who see reader as his haven.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hatred of the gods, dark!reader, manipulation vibes, Kronos mention, talk of death, and talk of betrayal.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader (nicknamed Haven)

Words: 1.1k

A/N: I binge-read all of the PJO books and the Heroes of Olympus books. And the idea of the reader being in cahoots with Kronos and nudging Luke to join Kronos has been festering in my brain since the last episode.

Masterlist

You’d known Camp Half-Blood longer than most of the campers. Call it cruel, but it was a mixture of having no mortal parent and also watching naive, wannabe heroes stupidly dying for the gods. You had no love for the spawns, how they were abandoned by their godly parent and spent their short, meaningless lives trying to make them proud.

It made you sick.

It made you sicker that one of those gods was sentenced to be camp director. Not only did you have to hear about the gods from the demigods, but you also had to breathe the same air as a god.

And you couldn’t speak openly about it with anyone at camp either. No one shared your disgust or your thirst for vengeance. To change things. You want glory, too. But you didn’t want the novelty glory these children wanted. The glory that came with the plan that had been brewing ever since you were found nestled in a bassinet on the stoop of a house that never became your home.

Your skin itched to leave the climate-controlled bubble of Camp Half-Blood and finally put the plan in motion. There was only so much talk of quests and playing Capture the Flag you could take. The plan finally started heating up when you saw the seeds of unrest, hatred, and wrath. It just made it so much better that it happened to be your boyfriend of two years.

The cold October wind bit through your thick jacket. Standing on the edge of the training grounds, your gaze was fixed on the scar marring the skin of Luke’s face. The jagged line was a fading colour from the once brilliant red it had been in July when Luke returned from the quest.

You kept your voice low, watching Luke’s shoulder heaving from deep breaths, training with his sword. “Luke, I know you’re angry. I know you feel betrayed by the gods.”

The disgust in your tone twisted around the word god like it was a serpent coiling around itself. More apparent than ever, and took Luke by surprise. In the five years he’d known you and the two years he’d been dating you, he’d only ever gotten the feeling you were neutral to the gods.

Luke turned to stare at you, “What-“

“What if I told you there’s a way to make them pay? To make them kneel before humanity?” You spoke with such conviction that it was obvious this wasn’t something half-baked but a real, thought-out strategy.

Luke dropped his sword on the ground, preferring to clench his fists, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light of rage, “What are you suggest, Haven?”

You stepped up in his space, only peering around your surroundings before whispering into his ear, “Join us. Join Kronos. With your wrath, we could finally overthrow the gods and bring a new era. An era where we have real glory, and Kronos can rule as it should be.”

You used Kronos’ name with such familiarity it was like the Titan lord was merely a long-time friend. Luke’s expression of rage faded into a mixture of shock and disbelief. His sweet girlfriend, who played referee between campers and pleaded military neutrality, was in cahoots with the absolute worst Titan, yet Luke wasn’t entirely resistant to the idea.

“You’re serious?” Luke asked, shifting his brown irises between your orbs. Only determination lights up your pretty irises.

“More serious than I’ve ever been. Luke, together, we can change the world. No more being errand runners for a bunch of selfish assholes. No more being entertainment for a bunch of fuckheads pitting us against each. Discarding us when they get bored like death isn’t permanent for us. No more fighting monsters.”

Luke’s attention was caught by the idealist future: “We could have our own home? If we want, we could have a family who won’t have to be scared.”

The wistfulness in his tone made you hide the sadistic smile on your face in the crook of his neck. You knew you made the right choice. You barely had to do anything with all the rage bubbling under Luke’s skin.

As the sun faded beyond the forest, it cast long shadows over the training grounds, and Luke made his decision. He was tired of living a life the gods thought he owed them, tired of the games, the excuses, and the responsibility that bred maturity sooner than a teen should have had.

“Lead the way. I’m with you.” Luke firmly spoke, defiantly smiling, and that same sparkle appeared again in his eye.

“Whoa there, hero.” You breathed firmly, pressing his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. “This is more delicate and important than a five-minute planned prank you and your siblings like to do. It has been in the works far longer than either of us has been alive.”

Luke furrowed his brow, “Then what—“

“You’ll find out more. When he comes, don’t fight it. It’s worse if you do. No one can know about this plan, either, Luke. You’re an important piece, and when it comes to that time…well, we’ll need your role as the camp’s Golden Boy.”

Luke captured your lips in a deep kiss before pulling away, his determination written all over his features. “When do we start?”

“First, Kronos will come into your dreams. Call him lord. Two, we’ll need to get you a weapon that fits you better.” Your nose wrinkled up in distaste at the sword Luke had used since he was fifteen.

Hands intertwined, you led Luke away from the training grounds to the trail leading back to the cabins. You steered away from the main twelve cabins to the smaller one hidden behind Zeus’ and Hera’s cabins. Zeus demanded a cabin to be built, and its location made it obvious why, even if everyone who didn’t know the reason was an idiot. Zeus was a mama’s boy at his core, and he’d protect her. Why else would he allow a cabin behind his own?

Luke hesitated after he saw it in the distance because even he had never been inside. Rumours swirled camp why you had your own cabin, and no one could find out the truth, just like why absolutely no one knew who your mom was. Luke knew your mortal parent was a man because you mentioned you lived at camp. After all, he died years ago.

When your hand touched the doorknob, the cabin door opened, “Welcome to the cabin of Titaness Rhea.”

“Kro—“

“He’s my stepfather. And what better way to overthrow the gods than by using Rhea’s own child.” Luke’s lips parted to match the grin on your features.

The cabin door slammed shut, sealing you and Luke away from the camp you would soon betray. Plans were in motion, and fuck that so-called Great Prophecy.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #caitsy and ash productions #luke castellan angst

93 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 3 months

Text

@/kristenadrianna deleted her blog. My best friend confirmed it since I was sure she blocked me after spamming the same ask to the thief 10+ times.

Stolen Work

Hello, in case people haven't seen it, there is a blog @/kristenadrianna that has been caught stealing from other blogs. Some people have been messaging users, giving them a heads-up. I'm going to list some creates in the Top Gun fandom, and hopefully, you can spread this post, make your own, report @/kristenadrianna and share with the people you're friends with.

@ereardon

@roosterforme

@rosiahills22

@its-the-pilot

@goldenseresinretriever

@callsign-dexter

@tip-top-cloud-surfer

@seresinsbrat

@sunlightmurdock

I'm pretty sure that someone posted about an upcoming the Notebook AU with Jake Seresin x OC.

The blog also features posts from the Descendants, Harry Potter, and Summer I Turned Pretty fandoms.

110 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 3 months

Text

Stolen Work

THE BLOG HAS BEEN TAKEN DOWN

@ereardon

@roosterforme

@rosiahills22

@its-the-pilot

@goldenseresinretriever

@callsign-dexter

@tip-top-cloud-surfer

@seresinsbrat

@sunlightmurdock

I'm pretty sure that someone posted about an upcoming the Notebook AU with Jake Seresin x OC.

The blog also features posts from the Descendants, Harry Potter, and Summer I Turned Pretty fandoms.

#jake seresin x reader #harry potter #descendants #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

110 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 5 months

Text

This is the only thing bouncing in my head reading your post.

What the fuck.

Is this person okay because what in the ever loving Sigmund Freud’s Oedipus complex did I just read??

Why the fuck did I just see someone ship rooster and his mother? Like he grows up to be with her!? What the actual hell. I’m signing out 🤢

7 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 5 months

Note

Piano Sessions: "White Leather" by Wolf Alice + Finnick Odair x reader, their relationship had just started when Quarter Quell happened and both sent to arena, when the rebels pull victors out she gets left behind but her tracker was taken out and the gamemakers can't find her in arena. so everyone assumes she's dead but she escapes. while she's on the run she thinks about the life she wants with Finnick (maybe she sees the propo he does and he says something about her death). as "star squad" makes their way through the capitol they are reunited.

☼ white leather (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, reader has an injury.

wc; 5.7k

prompt; Piano Sessions: songfic, white leather by wolf alice. not noticable.

The seasons are changing, the warmth is fleeting, and the loneliness is burrowing in your heart. While you were being roasted alive a few weeks ago due to the unrelenting heat, mother nature has since decided to be kind rather than cruel. With summer ending, it allows her to relax, iron fist loosening.

It’s perfect timing, too.

If you had to endure it for any longer, you think you would’ve stopped traveling, ultimately setting you back. It was different when you were in the arena, because you weren’t actively moving for the entire day, just in increments. Out here you have no choice, especially if you want to make it back.

The Capitol can’t be that much further. After walking in the trees of Panem for hours at a time for weeks, it has got to be around here somewhere. You know for certain that you’re heading in the right direction because you stumbled into District Nine by accident.

You didn’t even realize you had, even though you crossed through a fence to get inside. In your defense, there’s a lot of sectioned off areas inside of the wilderness, with no apparent reason why. What should’ve given you a clue was the burnt wheat field, stretching as far as your eyes could see.

In the distance, you could make out buildings, something that also wasn’t too unusual, considering that when the districts were formed after the Dark Days, a lot of structures were abandoned. You’ve been hopping between them, actually. It’s dangerous, they’re falling apart, and there’s critters absolutely everywhere, but you don’t have much of an option.

You’ve tried sleeping under the stars, it’s not at all comfortable. You get increasingly paranoid as the hours drag on, afraid of the wild animals coming across you. You’d be able to defend yourself, with the knife that you have from the Quarter Quell arena. In the case of a pack, you’d be screwed.

They’d tear you apart, and then you’d have to add on their damage to injuries you already have. The last thing you need right now is another infected wound. The one on your forearm is bad enough. It’s your own fault, you dug out the tracker prematurely, assuming that you’d be rescued out of the arena, because that was the plan.

When Katniss short circuited the dome using the lightning, she unintentionally messed up the plan, putting the rebels on a time crunch. They were able to get her, Finnick and Beetee out of the arena, you believe. Which left you, Johanna and Peeta behind. And Enobaria, but she doesn’t really count.

You ran across your allies, tried to tell them that if they didn’t want to fall into Capitol hands, then they had to escape that minute. Johanna, who usually trusts your judgement, was resistant to the idea of escaping the dome. She didn’t like the idea of having to survive outside of it, not knowing where to go. She wanted to play it safe, and if that meant enduring whatever the Capitol had in store, then that’s what had to be done.

You would’ve argued with her, possibly even convinced her, if the hovercraft hadn’t appeared above the three of you. They knew exactly where they were because of the trackers they still had. With you being set on not being captured, you ran, leaving them behind, while you got out of the dome.

They should’ve caught you. It was an open field for at least a mile, they easily could’ve seen you, shot you and scooped you up. You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life. Johanna and Peeta must’ve put up a fight, if it took them that long to grab them out.

You didn’t hear news for a long time, not until that farmer caught up with you in that wheat field. She was out of breath, face a bright red from running for so long, sweat running down from her temples. You paused, watching in slight amusement as she tried to catch her breath, clearly wanting a conversation.

“You… what are you… doing out here?” She gasped, a hand on her chest. “If the Peacekeepers catch you…”

At the mention of Peacekeepers, you were no longer smiling. “Where am I?”

Her face twisted. “Well, District Nine, of course.”

The burnt field clicked then, and you turned to look at it with new eyes. It also explained why the fence you climbed over was harder than the last few. Which then got your mind working, wondering if you’d been in District Nine the week before, because it was heavily barbed.

“My name is (Y/n).” You said, head shaking. “I don’t live here, I’m a victor from District Four.”

She squinted at you, unbelieving. She eyed your body, the clothes you were wearing, which is nothing but an undershirt, a pair of shorts and water boots. Not the typical clothing for a farmer out in the fields, you guessed. You came to the right conclusion, because her mouth opened.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” She told you. “How did you get out of the arena?”

“It fell apart. I simply climbed out.”

She made a noise, as if the answer was too easy. “Where are you heading? District Four?”

“No, the Capitol. How far away am I?”

“Close, but you’re going in the wrong direction. You need to get to District Two, they cracked the Nut.” She pointed over your shoulder. “If you get to the rebel base, they’ll help you there.”

You nodded slowly. “They still have Peacekeepers here?”

“We’re too close, that’s why they haven’t retreated. They’ve up and abandoned the further districts. They wiped out District Twelve completely.”

You tilted your head. “Everyone’s dead?”

“They bombed it, seen it in the propos with Katniss Everdeen. Some of her people made it out, they’re in District Thirteen now. Not much left of ‘em.”

“Right.” You murmured. “Thank you for the help.”

“Wait, don’t you want me to look at that for you?” She motioned to where you’d cut out the tracker. “It looks nasty.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Well, good luck.” She said, “You better hurry and get out of here.”

“I will.”

She nodded, watching as you turned away, heading for District Two. From what you’ve gathered, you’re confident enough to say that the Quarter Quell arena was placed in the space between Districts Eight, Nine and Two. When you picture the map of Panem in your mind, it’s the area that makes the most sense.

A part of you wishes that you’d taken up her offer on cleaning out the cut. You have some herbal knowledge, which is what’s keeping it from killing you, but that has nothing on real medicine. This could’ve been healed days ago, and it likely wouldn’t have left a scar.

There’s also so many questions that come to mind since talking to her. Parts of the conversation that didn’t make sense to you. The biggest one being her telling you that you should be dead. Why? At the very least, the Capitol should know that you made it out alive. Especially if they did a sweep of the arena and didn’t come out with your body.

Unless they figured that you escaped and you’ve died out here somewhere, starving and alone. Which is the dumbest conclusion that they could possibly come to. With your track history, the bare minimum that you’ve lived off of your entire life, including your Games, they should know you’re a parasite that you can’t get rid of so easily.

If there’s one good thing that’s come out of fighting in the Hunger Games, it’s that you know how to survive. It would’ve been harder to do if you were rusty, but your time in the arena was a refresher, setting you up to live out here, which is not nearly as difficult. You don’t actively have other tributes hunting you down every waking second.

If the Capitol really thinks that you’ve died, they have a surprise coming.

Your feet stutter a step when you realize what that means. It’s not just the Capitol, District Nine believes it too. There’s a good chance that they’re advertising it to the rest of the districts, then. You wouldn’t put it past them, they rub factors in your faces all the time, like District Thirteen. They led you to think that it’d been destroyed decades ago, when in reality, they came to an agreement that allowed Thirteen to slip out without the others noticing.

Oh, you hope that Finnick isn’t believing the same thing that girl did. You really hope that he wouldn’t take their word for it. But why wouldn’t he? District Thirteen didn’t have enough resources to rescue you all, and the Capitol was right there. Who’s to say that you didn’t die before they could get you out? Or that they didn’t kill you in captivity? Or that they’re secretly hiding you.

They could say anything they wanted about you, and he’d have no choice but to believe it because there’s no evidence proving otherwise.

You’ve been thinking about Finnick a lot lately out here while you walk, mostly your future. It was discussed briefly before the Quarter Quell, because the two of you had come to the agreement of volunteering for the Games. The conversation didn’t get very far after you started talking about the hypothetical rebellion if the arena did work out.

If you had it your way, you think you would’ve talked to him about what he wants to do after the rebellion, because you have so many ideas. Primarily, you’ll be able to travel, you won’t be held down by District Four. You and Finnick could spend months bouncing between districts, and come back home when you get tired of it.

For the first time in your lives, you’ll have freedom. You’ll be able to do anything you want with little to no limit. There will be no more Hunger Games, no more months of preparation with teenagers that have no choice. There won’t be any interruptions, something that held the two of you back for so long.

And you’re not talking about the Games being a burden, you mean the relationship you’ve been denying. You and Finnick have had unavoidable chemistry for years, but between district life and the Capitol, there was no room to explore until recently. And even that seems to have been a mistake, something that should’ve waited.

Except, neither of you could suppress the urges any longer. You were already sharing longing looks and gentle touches, there was no point in withholding the pleasures when you were already dipping into it. That’s why you made it official in April, four months after the announcement, three months before the reaping.

There had been countless nights where you stayed up, dreaming of the day where you’d be able to be yourselves. Where the stars would align perfectly to allow you to become more than just friends. When it finally happened, you almost didn’t believe the words coming out of Finnick’s mouth.

It’s been difficult to take it slow with him, because you feel like you’ve been dating him this entire time, under the table. You might not have been physical with him, but the emotional aspect was there. In your mind, he was already yours. And he admitted to you that he felt the same, that you belonged to him years ago.

You remember shivering when he told you that, because you had a feeling that it was true. These were words that you thought you’d have to wait to hear come out of his mouth. He was eager to tell you these truths, like a weight being lifted off of his chest. Like he’d been planning the exact moment they’d slip out of his lips in a whisper.

When this is over—when the rebellion is done—you want Finnick to yourself. It’s what you deserve at the very least, after all that you’ve been through. If it’s up to you, you’d want him to propose once Panem has begun to relax. You don’t want the teasing, or more years of build up. You just want to make him officially yours, forever.

Whatever comes after doesn’t matter. As long as you can say that he’s your husband, and you’ve agreed to love each other eternally. You’ll take what’s thrown your way with grace. You won’t ask for anything ever again. You’ll be especially good, if you could get what you wanted for once.

You step through the treeline into a meadow, letting you get a clear view of what’s ahead. You take a few steps before you come to a stop, staring at the colorful buildings in the distance. While you had tried your best to stay on track for District Two, you eventually came to the conclusion that you’d rather go to the Capitol, like you’d originally planned.

It’s not that far now. If you keep going, you think you’ll make it there sometime tomorrow.

—

Four hours. That’s all the time it took for you to realize that the situation has majorly changed here. The further you travel into the Capitol, the more it grows increasingly obvious. Especially if they’ve turned to violence to keep people out.

It’s a ghost town, which is not what you expected. The streets are usually crowded, with no space on the pastel sidewalk, crawling with people dressed in bright color. You were sure that you’d get spotted in the first minute of stepping foot into the city. It turns out that you had nothing to worry about.

Well, that’s not necessarily true. While you were temporarily relieved to find out that the outer half of the Capitol had been evacuated, you were put back on alert when you figured out why. There are traps placed on almost every street, with exponential damage to the buildings around.

You’ve yet to figure out if it’s the Capitol trying to defend themselves, or the rebels ensuring that if citizens return, they’ll be met with resistance. If you had to guess, you’re leaning more toward the Capitol. The way the traps are placed are methodological—it’s a pattern you’ve seen before. It reminds you a lot of the Gamemakers.

The traps are nearly perfectly hidden, the triggers in plain sight. You fell victim to the first few, but once you started to really notice where they were and what they’d contain, it was so much easier to avoid them. Once in a while, you’ll find yourself trapped, where you have no choice but to set them off. In those cases, you duck and cover, hoping for the best.

With the sun setting, you think it’s about time you call it a night. The last thing you’d want is to miss a sign and get yourself seriously injured. Everything is easier in the daylight. Besides, you covered a lot of ground today, more than you thought you would.

You stop in front of a lime green apartment building with front doors that are made out of frosted glass. You grab the handle, pulling it open to slip inside. The lobby is cool, reflecting the temperature on the outside. It’s very carefully decorated here, with tall green plants in white pots and a small loveseat with a side table. On top of it is a magazine, with Katniss and Peeta on the front cover.

You wander forward, looking at the directory to find a paper taped to the front of it, the words successfully evacuated printed across the middle in bold writing. You lift it up to see beneath it, curious to how many floors there are. There’s five of them, you’ll probably stay on the third floor to keep from going too high.

As you start up the steps, you keep a sharp ear and eye out for noises or cameras that might capture your appearance. Just because this part of the Capitol has been evacuated, doesn’t mean that they’ve surrendered control entirely. For all you know, there’s Peacekeeper bases around here, ready for the signal to round a rebel up.

When you reach the third floor, you choose the unit that’s located next to the fire escape that you step out of. The door is locked, of course. You hold out your knife, staring down at it. It’s dulled considerably because you’ve been using it for everything while you’ve been traveling. This will be its last job.

You stuff the blade into the keyhole, wiggling it from side to side. For a second, nothing happens, and then there’s a click. You twist the knob, pushing in, opening the door to reveal the expensive living room. You pull the knife out but leave the door open as you inspect the apartment from top to bottom. When you’re convinced there’s no one, you pick up a dining room chair, going back to the front door. You shut it, lock it as best as you can, and then shove the chair as stiffly as you can beneath the knob.

The first thing you do is raid the bedroom, tearing it apart for clothes that you’ll be able to wear without looking ridiculous. Once you have an outfit that makes sense, you shower, watching as all the built-up dirt and dried blood mixes in the water, creating a grainy substance at the bottom of the white shower.

You feel so much better when you step out, drying yourself off. You change, letting the bathroom air out while you go through every cabinet you can, searching for the medical supplies. They’re hidden when you do find them, but they’re top-grade, the type of medicine that you’d send to tributes in the arena to get them healed within days.

You read over the ointment’s directions, and then you slather it over the open wound in your arm. Your teeth are grit hard enough that you think you’ll break them, toes curling at the pain it’s causing. It burns as it works its magic, you toss the tube on the counter, leaving to go back to the living room.

The sun has fully set now, there’s barely any light coming through the windows. Still, you shut the curtains, blocking out the rest of it. You head to the kitchen next, digging through the pantry to find countless cans and boxed goods. You pull out a few familiar soups because you’re starving. After you’ve finally located a spoon, you go to sit on the living room floor in the dark to eat.

You could heat it up, you’re sure that it’d be better that way, but you don’t want to risk more than you have to. You open the can, dipping your spoon inside, and raising the creamy substance to your lips. As expected, it’s not very good when it’s cold. Yet, it could be worse.

You manage to get down half the can before an alarm cuts through the stillness, making you jump in surprise. Your hand wraps around the knife before the television set lights up on its own, and you’re immediately greeted with the face of Beetee Latier.

“This is a repeated broadcast from District Thirteen, a reminder of the faces we’ve lost to get here.” He says. “We Remember, do you?”

It cuts to Haymitch Abernathy, sitting in a dark room, wearing a grey jumpsuit. The background is an empty area. To an extent, he looks better than the last time you saw him.

A feminine voice speaks from off-camera. “What do you remember about Cashmere and Gloss Ritchson, the brother and sister duo from District One?”

“They were a bright pair of mentors, even when they were teenagers.” Haymitch says, staring at the camera. “There was nothing the two of them couldn’t do, and it showed time and time again when they performed miracles outside of the arena. Cashmere had an undeniable dedication that was admired by everyone, and Gloss was very hardworking to ensure his tributes got the best possible. It’s a great loss we’ve suffered losing them to the Quarter Quell.”

You squint, eyebrows twitching. Is this a memorial piece? If so, it’s a little funny for someone like Haymitch to speak about Cashmere and Gloss, considering that they were never invited into the alliance. Or thought about twice, beyond the idea of them possibly killing Katniss or Peeta.

The screen fades to black slowly, before Haymitch comes up again. “Brutus, he won a couple years after I did. He was friendly to me after my Games, and had briefly tried to help me after the tragic loss of my family.” He pauses to sigh. “Even though we could never see eye to eye, that did not keep him from drinking with me on occasion.”

Beetee shows up in the next clip, in the same spot that Haymitch was on a stool, only he’s in a wheelchair. Something must’ve happened between the arena and now. You wonder if it has anything to do with the lightning tree.

“Wiress was very intuitive, incredibly intelligent.” He adjusts his glasses, shaking his head. “It may appear that we have lost no one at all, but with her absence, Panem will not function the same. She worked alongside me to create some of the more important Capitol devices, a factor they neglected to think about. We will miss her dearly.”

You finish the can of soup, and you’re pulling on the tab to open the next when his face shows up on screen. Finnick sits on the stool, eyes puffy and a little bloodshot, bags underneath from the lack of sleep. There’s a slouch in his posture, a small length of rope in his fingers that he fiddles with.

“Tell us about (Y/n) (L/n).” The female voice says.

Finnick swallows, voice quiet. “What isn’t there to say?” He asks, looking into the camera. “She was my best friend, and more than that, my girlfriend. She was the kindest person I’ve ever known, always so considerate and patient with everyone around her. How President Snow can take such a gentle life and then brag about it is a mystery.”

Your blood runs cold, suspicions confirmed. So, they have been broadcasting you as dead. They saw an opportunity and took it, wanting to make themselves look more ruthless. When in reality, they haven’t so much as touched you since you escaped.

“I love her and I miss her.” He says, tired eyes filling with tears. An overwhelming urge to reach through the screen to hold him seizes you. “If I had known my time with her would be cut short, I would’ve done everything to protect her.” He breathes shakily. “This is why we must stop the Hunger Games. For loved ones like (Y/n).”

Finnick is gone, once again replaced by Haymitch, who begins to speak about Mags, your mentor. For the first few seconds you stare at the screen, face slowly twisting before it hits you.

Mags is dead.

“What?” You murmur, sitting up.

“Mags was the first mentor to approach me after I won my Games.” Haymitch says. “She was a sweet woman that could see the pain and understood what I was going through. I was the first victor of District Twelve, she was the first face of the Hunger Games. And for as long as I let her, she helped me mentor.”

Of course she did. That’s who Mags is—was. If she saw someone that needed help, she was there. She even approached Johanna after her Games to give her some tips because Johanna was slowly sinking.

“Mags did not deserve to die the way she did.” Haymitch says.

It moves on to the next victor, the woman from Five who was killed in the arena. You try to listen, but it’s difficult. You can feel yourself slowly getting sucked out of your body and into the open air. You’re here, but are you really?

The entirety of Panem thinks you’re dead, and as serious as the situation is—it’s a little funny. If this is the rerun, that means that they’ve been Finnick speak on your death dozens of times. There is not one person left in this country that believes otherwise.

But you’re not dead. You’re here, in one of the many luxurious Capitol apartments, eating someone else’s vegetable soup that they’ve saved. If you had gone to District Two like the girl from Nine told you to, this wouldn’t be the rumor.

For the remaining eight districts, the statements are brought from the victors that now reside in District Thirteen or some faces of previous Capitol citizens. Which you can tell by the way their skin is tinted or the tattoos that line their bodies. There’s even a part where a former Avox sits on the stool, signing while his brother translates.

It wraps up with Finnick talking about Rue and the future that was stolen from her. She was just an innocent child, and the Capitol thought it was right to force her to fight for her life with other older kids, who were much bigger and more skilled. When she should’ve been at home, with her family.

Beetee shows up at the end, hands in his lap. “We Remember.”

The screen dies, but not completely. It glows faintly, illuminating the small area that you’re sitting in. You need to get out of here—out of the Capitol, at least. You should be with Finnick. He needs to know that you’re alive, because the idea of you being dead is killing him. After the two of you fought to be together, you’ve been ripped from his fingertips.

You don’t sleep tonight.

You want to, with the couch being the comfiest thing you’ve laid down on in months. You know that the apartment is secured, you triple-checked everything. No one is coming to get you. This isn’t what keeps you up.

So, you relax in front of the television in the living room, eyelids feeling heavy the moment your head touches the pillow. When they shut, that’s when the problem rises. You’re not tired anymore, even after counting sheep for what feels like hours, your mind is still running.

By the time the sun is peeking through the curtains, you’re ready to leave the apartment with a packed bag. It has the essentials inside like food and water, and the ointment you’ll be using to heal your arm. You’ve grown too attached to the knife you had in the arena, so you find a way to sharpen it, giving you a reason to keep it.

The streets look the same way as they did yesterday, nothing has magically shifted. You head for the train tracks that’ll bring you to a tunnel that runs to District Two. It’s what the girl in Nine called the Nut. It serves several purposes, including training the new Peacekeepers underground, but it’s also the easiest path to get in and out of the Capitol.

While you should’ve gone to District Two straight away, you’re glad you didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t have known the whole story. You can’t imagine how overwhelming it could’ve been if you came across the rebels and they bombarded you about how you’re alive.

You travel blindly through the streets, dodging and setting off traps, watching the chaos that follows. A few of them are made up of weapons that shoot out once triggered. You manage to react quickly most of the time, but you still come out with a few nicks from blades that are impossibly sharp.

Other traps are made up of insects that are abnormally colored and move in ways that they shouldn’t be capable of. When you see this, you decide that you’re right to say that they’re designed by the Capitol’s Gamemakers, because it makes no logical sense the other way around.

When it appears to be around lunch, you stop to eat in a shop with broken windows, stomach growling. There’s a nice aqua blue couch a few feet away from the door, void of the glass shards that litter the tile floor. You open a can of soup, and dig out a small pack of crackers to have with it.

It’s still disgustingly cold, and yet it could be worse. After what you ate in the woods these last few weeks, anything is a good meal compared to that. Even the crackers seem like a treat.

You set the empty can on the floor when you finish, sitting back against the cushions, staring through the open window. A pair of black birds circle over a nearby alley for a minute. They’re the first sign of life that you’ve seen in this city since you got here, besides the mutts that come out of the traps.

They settle on the roof of a building, side by side, much like the birds at home when they land on power lines. You’re about to look away, when you watch as they both simultaneously tilt their heads, attention set on whatever is in the alley. Your face twists, confused.

As soon as they open their beaks, beginning to screech, you realize that they’re not birds, either. They look to be like jabberjays—a Capitol weapon. You get to your feet, swinging the bag strap over your shoulder. You don’t know how they can see you, because they are definitely not facing your direction. You shouldn’t be in their view.

You take a single step, before you freeze where you are, watching as a group of people dart out from the alleyway. They’re dressed in black, wearing combat gear and carrying weapons. You’re terrified, wondering how the Peacekeepers have found you, until you realize that they are not Peacekeepers. Peacekeepers wear white.

There’s almost a dozen of them, and their leader is pointing his finger down the street to your right, an area you haven’t explored yet. He barks out an order, one of the girls in the middle turns with a gun, shooting at the jabberjay. They flap their wings, rising from where they’re perched, flying around.

Rebels.

Your lips part, wanting to speak, but the words die in your throat. You’re not dressed like they are, you look like you belong in the Capitol because of the clothes you’re wearing. You’re even sitting in an abandoned boutique as if you’re not completely surrounded by danger.

It doesn’t matter, they’re gone before you can work up the courage to speak. You watch as one of the boys toward the end grabs another boy with blonde hair, pulling him along. Neither of them stick out in your mind, and then the first boy turns, looking over his shoulder, right at you.

It’s Finnick. It’s Finnick, and he’s pulling along Peeta.

You move now, trying to follow him. You’re sure he’s seen you, but as you step out of the shop and in front of it, looking at where you’d been standing, you see that it’s too dark to make out much of anything. The awning above the street blocks any sunlight that might be able to get inside.

“Hey,” You call, walking after them. They’re moving too fast, trying to escape the birds, running around the corner. You begin to jog, not wanting to lose them in the maze of Capitol streets.

Even as a team, they move remarkably fast. You’re barely catching Finnick’s bronze hair in glimpses each time they take a turn. They’re losing the birds, though. And even worse, you.

“Hey!” You shout, sprinting down the street. “Wait!”

It grows more narrow, crowded with decorations that citizens couldn’t pull inside before leaving. There’s many places to hide, too many buildings to duck into. You can’t see Finnick anymore, much less hear the stomping of their boots against the asphalt.

When you’re breathing so hard that you’re sure you’re going to throw up your lunch, you slow down, coming to a stop in the middle of the walkway. Your face contorts, hands on your hand.

“Fuck.” You breathe, walking at a slow pace. “Finnick!”

You peer into the local stores, checking behind every bush. You know that eight people would never be able to hide around this area without splitting up. They could’ve gone anywhere.

“Finnick, please!” You stop in the middle of a crossroads, taking your time to look down what each road offers. “It’s me, it’s (Y/n)! I’m alive!” You struggle to breathe normally, whispering, “Please, I’m alive.”

When there’s no appearance, you sigh. The one chance you had, and now he’s gone.

“(Y/n)?” A faraway voice asks.

You turn instantly to face the person, finding Finnick standing at the end of a walkway. He’s not alone. In fact, he’s with the leader of the group, who’s clutching a large gun in his hands, wary. This doesn’t bother you.

“Finnick.” You say, starting toward him. “Oh my god.”

There’s a deep crease between his eyebrows, watching you come closer. “You’re—how are you here?”

You walk straight into his arms, letting him crush you against his body. You grip on tightly to his shoulder, face pressed into the space above the vest. He presses a kiss into your hair once, then twice, and again and again. When he’s had enough, he pulls away, grabbing your face to kiss your lips.

It’s gentle, loving, but quickly turns greedy as he refuses to let you go. And when he does, it’s not because he needs to breathe, it’s because his shoulders are shaking. His face is wet, eyes filled with tears. You bring his forehead to yours, thumbs wiping away the tears.

“It’s okay, Finnick.” You murmur.

“The Capitol said you were dead. They showed your body. How are you—?”

“I escaped out of the arena.” You tell him, stroking his hair. “I’ve been in the trees between the districts the whole time. I got here yesterday.”

He backs away, lips pressed together, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Of course you did.

You pout, shaking your head. “I cut the tracker out.” You show him your arm, which is looking better this afternoon, but still far from healed. “I’m not sure who’s body you saw, but it wasn’t mine.” You reach for his hands. “I am so, so sorry.”

He pulls you back into his body, hugging you. “You’re alive, (Y/n). That’s all that matters to me.” He frowns. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

515 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 5 months

Text

I’d be at the court house holding a bouquet of flowers immediately after seeing him with a baby

If December Never Ends | One-Shot

An early Christmas gift for y'all! Here's my entry for "Midnight Mass" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge! Kinda fell in love with these two, so let me know if you want to see more of them!

Summary: Bradley joins you and your family for midnight Mass.

Warnings: religious inaccuracies

Length: 2.3k words

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader

youtube

Christmas with your family was always a big event. Everyone came from all over to your parents’ house in Norfolk and spent the holiday together. Nearly forty-eight hours of uninterrupted family time. There was little sleep involved as there were people playing music and games all night long, so if you could find a quiet place to take a nap, you were lucky.

That’s why you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you saw your boyfriend of eleven months, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, dozing in one of the plush chairs in your father’s study. Your three year old niece was tucked into his side while she drew in the princess coloring book you had gotten her, his arm wrapped protectively around her and a purple crayon dangling from his fingers. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture, the sight melting your heart.

You knew the day had to have been overwhelming for Bradley. Hell, it was your family and it was overwhelming for you. Your two older brothers, their wives and children, your aunts and uncles from both sides and some of your cousins… twenty people, even in a house as large as your parents’, was nothing short of chaotic. You were shocked he even agreed to come, since he was used to spending the holidays alone on base.

Stepping into the room, the click of your heels on the wooden floor drew the attention of your niece Lyla, despite your attempts to be as quiet as possible. She waved with a smile, then put her chubby finger to her lips, a signal for you to be quiet. “Unka Roo sleepin’,” she whispered, before going back to coloring.

“I see that,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to her unruly curls. “You like cuddling with your Uncle Roo?”

The little girl nodded, her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit as she focused on coloring. “He a warm blankie.”

She shifted, snuggling closer to him, and the slight movement was enough to rouse him, his muscled arm tightening around her as though she was going to fall. “You okay, doll?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open.

You chose to remain silent, watching the heartwarming interaction. Seeing him with your niece lit a fire in your belly unlike anything you had ever felt, the thought of him with children of his own and what that would be like was impossible to ignore.

“Mmhm!” Lyla nodded, holding up her picture for him to see. “All done!”

Bradley ran his free hand over his face and forced his eyes open further, looking at the presented coloring page. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he grinned, kissing her hair before looking up, finally noticing that you were in the room. “Hey, Tink.”

“Hey yourself, handsome. Have a good nap?” You asked, watching as he helped Lyla out of the chair when she started trying to get up, saying something about going to show her parents the picture she colored.

Once she was out of the room, Bradley stretched his arms above his head, hoping to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. “Must have,” he said, sitting back and patting his knee for you to come join him. “How long was I out?”

You moved closer and sat on his lap, careful not to wrinkle his dark gray slacks too much. His matching jacket had been discarded on a chair across the room earlier in the night, leaving him wearing a white dress shirt that had the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his well muscled forearms. His arm wrapped around your waist effortlessly, his thumb brushing over the skin exposed by the open back of your green party dress.

“An hour, at least,” you replied, moving your hand to the back of his neck, your nails running through the short hair there. You had been helping your mother and sister in laws clean up after dinner, so you didn't know for sure.

Bradley nodded, leaning forward just enough to kiss your shoulder. “Lyla was getting a little cranky, I think there was too much going on with all the kids running around after dinner, so I brought her in here to relax. I hope that's okay.”

“More than okay,” you reassured him. “I'm sure Tim was thrilled for the break, Uncle Roo.”

His cheeks turned pink at the term of endearment. “I think she's used to calling everyone ‘uncle’,” he explained. It made sense, aside from her father and grandfather, every other adult man in her life was an uncle. “And she was having a hard time with Bradley, so I figured she could call me Rooster.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly before pulling back to meet his hazel eyes. “So long as you're okay with it. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I like it, actually. I've always wanted to be an uncle. Hard with no siblings though,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Your left hand lifted to rest on his jaw, stroking over his stubble with your thumb. “My brothers might give you shit, but they love you, and you know my parents adore you. Lyla clearly prefers you to anyone else, and the other kids love when you roughhouse with them. I'd say you're pretty welcome in this family, Bradley.”

He nodded, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You’d always had a large family, so you couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be an orphan. He had told you the story before, his father died when he was a toddler, and his mother passed from cancer as a teen. He went to live with Maverick, his godfather, who betrayed his trust and prevented him from going to the Naval Academy. They hadn't spoken in years, leaving him with nothing but the Navy.

Until he met you.

To hear him tell it, your blind date set up on New Year’s Eve the previous year was a miracle in and of itself. You remembered it more based on the hangover you had the next day, so you took his word for it.

Since then, though, despite a deployment and a couple missions, you were happy together. Nothing was perfect, of course, but you never expected it to be.

You studied him carefully for a moment, and when he didn't reply, you rested your head against his shoulder, letting your hand slip from his jaw to rest against his chest, his heartbeat strong under your fingertips. “Bradley, I--”

The sound of your father’s booming voice interrupted you as he called for everyone to get ready for Mass. You knew Bradley wasn't religious, and you had told him he didn't have to participate, but it was a family tradition of yours to go to midnight Mass at the local church every Christmas.

“You should come with us, you might enjoy yourself,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to kiss him gently.

“I don't know anything about religion,” he pointed out, his arms holding you close as you perched on his lap.

Shaking your head, you smiled and continued to run your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, soothing him. “That's the beauty of it, you don't have to.”

With a pat to his chest, you stood, holding your hand out to him. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, unsure, before he finally accepted your hand and stood himself. You took the liberty of buttoning his open button while he unrolled his sleeves, helping him into his suit jacket after he had done so.

“You do clean up nicely, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you grinned, kissing him once more.

“So do you, Tinkerbell,” he said, twirling you in a circle, making your skirt flare around your legs. He caught you in his arms before dipping you backward, drawing a giggle from you. “Should we go?”

You nodded as he stood you back on your own two feet, leading him out to the front hall where there was a bustle of energy as everyone put their coats on to brave the cold. Bradley helped you into your parka, making sure it was buttoned up before slipping his own heavy coat on.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled. “Ready to go?” he asked, motioning toward the door with a tip of his head.

“I am.” You snuggled into his side and allowed him to lead you out to his Bronco that you had driven from Virginia Beach. Once you were both inside, he started the engine and followed the caravan of vehicles leaving your house for the church.

Sacred Heart was the church you had attended with your family for as long as you could remember. You and your brothers had been confirmed there, and while none of you were particularly religious anymore, you still attended midnight Mass with your devout parents every year for Christmas.

You usually sat in the back, since you were such a large group, and with small children it was easier to duck out if they got too loud and interrupted the service. This year was no different, with you and Bradley taking a seat in the last row with your brothers and their families.

Almost as if on cue, as soon as the service started, Lyla started making a fuss. She hadn’t napped earlier in the day like your brother Tim had hoped she would, and now that it was midnight, she was beyond tired. Her older brother Brenden tried to calm her down, but it only caused her to get louder, trying to squirm out of her mother’s arms. Her efforts doubled when she saw you and Bradley sitting at the end of the pew, reaching out for him.

“Unka Roo! Unka Rooooo!” she cried, tears falling down her pink cheeks as she got more frustrated.

Bradley peeked around you to see Lyla distressed and frowned. Without hesitation, he stood and moved around the back of the pew, crouching down behind Tim and his wife, Sarah. “I can take her, maybe she’ll stop?” he whispered, smiling when he saw the three year old already calming some since he came over.

They shared a look between each other and then looked back to Bradley. “Baby whisperer, huh?” Tim smirked, watching as his wife handed their daughter over to the aviator. “Good luck.”

Lyla quieted almost instantly once she was in Bradley’s arms, resting her head against his shoulder. You turned in your seat to smile at him, feeling like your heart was going to explode in your chest as you watched him pace the rear of the church with your niece in his arms. The only thing that pulled you from your reverie was your eldest brother, Tony, nudging your shoulder.

“Oooh, you’re in trouble with that one, aren’t you?” he teased, taking the elbow to the ribs you delivered with a quiet grunt. “What? You’re looking at him like you want him to put a baby in you right here.”

“Tony!” you hissed, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.

Before you could say anything else, Bradley returned to his seat beside you, a soundly sleeping Lyla on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” he whispered, noticing the flush in your cheeks.

Tony leaned over you. “She just --”

You covered his mouth and shoved him back toward his wife before shaking your head at Bradley. “Everything’s fine, my brother is just being a pig,” you explained quietly, turning your attention back to the service when your father shot you and your brother a look over his shoulder.

The remainder of midnight Mass went without incident, and when the service was over, you waited for everyone to leave before heading outside yourself with Bradley by your side. Your family was gathered on the steps of the church, making conversation amongst themselves when Tim stepped in front of you.

“Thanks for holding her, Bradley,” he smiled, managing to lift his daughter into his own arms without waking her. “She really likes you.”

He shrugged, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “She’s a cutie, that’s for sure. Thanks for trusting me with her.”

You snuggled against his side, smiling up at him. “Did you have a good night?”

“I had a great night,” he promised, wrapping his arm around you. “I do have one thing that would make it better though.”

There was a curious look on your face when he pulled away, just enough to drop to one knee in front of you, his hand pulling a small box out of his pocket. You gasped, covering your mouth, unable to take your eyes off Bradley despite feeling your whole family staring at you.

“I love you so much,” he swallowed hard, opening the ring box to show a simple diamond ring that had belonged to his mother. “I want you to be my Tinkerbell forever. Will you marry me?”

A tear slid down your cheek as you nodded, offering him your hand. “Yes. God, yes, Bradley!”

Your family and a few other bystanders from the church all clapped as he slid the ring on your finger and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. As you parted, a light snow began to fall, dusting your cheeks with cool snowflakes.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you with the perfect timing.”

“I try,” he smirked, kissing you once again as your family headed off to their cars to go back home. “Let’s get back, we have Christmas and an engagement to celebrate.”

“It’s the best Christmas ever.”

108 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 5 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 11

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, fluff, smut, swearing, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies, legal inaccuracies. No use of Y/N. Any opinions on NHL teams expressed by my characters are not my own and describe fictional versions of these teams.

Word Count:

A/N: D-Day Part 2 is upon us! Enjoy~

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

~~~~~

Salt sticks to your skin as you and Jake race across the sand. Pudding bounds along behind you and you chance a glance over your shoulder to see Jake gaining on you. You huff and push yourself faster, carefully dashing up the back porch and your hand is just about to curl around the door handle as Jake’s arms snake around your waist, yanking you back against him as you screech with laughter. “Caught you, Bunny.” He rasps into your ear, his lips brushing the skin there and making you shiver. He scoops you up and you squeal as your body shifts, your hands scrambling for purchase before coming to loop around his neck your bare shoulder brushing against the golden hairs of his chest between the open ends of his white button-down. He has one hand tightly around your middle and the other squeezes your ass teasingly before reaching to grab the door handle, carrying you across the threshold as Pudding follows behind, dancing at Jake’s ankles before making a beeline for her water bowl.

“Jake, we’re getting sand everywhere!” You chide, trying to listen to the voice of reason that’s fighting against every other part of you that wants to shove that damned shirt off his shoulders once and for all.

“Fuck it, that’s a tomorrow problem. I only have one problem I want to solve tonight.” Jake buries his face in your neck, peppering the salt-kissed skin with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, I’m a problem now, am I?” You gasp between scratches of his beard against your delicate skin. He raises his head to look at you before capturing your mouth with his and you hum at the feeling of his cheek against yours, tightening your arms to hold him closer.

“Bunny, you are my biggest problem.” He kisses one cheek. “And my biggest solution.” You shriek as his free hand comes up to tickle your side and you squirm in his grasp until he finally lets you down and you dash towards his bathroom. You glance behind you to see where he’s stalking after him, a playfully wolfish look in his eyes. “Bunny, Bunny, what am I going to do with you?” He drawls in that accent that sends delicious shivers down your spine.

“Well,” you draw out the word as you lean back against the closed door of his bedroom and he boxes you in, placing a hand on either side of your head. “First, you’re going to let me shower because I refuse to get sand in the bed.” You press a kiss to his nose. “Then, you’re going to make good on that promise of treating me like a goddess.” He chuckles as you press a fleeting kiss to his lips as your hands grip the door handle, twisting and watching him stumble as you push the door open and dash for his bathroom, slamming the door and twisting the lock before he can catch up to you.

You hear him trip over his own feet before he knocks on the door. “Bunny!” You giggle, taking the opportunity to strip out of the delicate little sundress you’d worn for your picnic dinner on the beach behind Jake’s house. It’s damp in places where the waves had sent sea spray up to kiss you. You shimmy out of your underclothes next, crossing the bathroom to turn on the shower. You hear Jake groan through the door at the sound of the water. You go back to the door, leaning your forehead against the wood, imagining he’s doing the same on the other side.

“Go shower, baby, I’ll see you soon.” He groans again before reminding you that he loves you and you hear his footsteps receding and the bedroom door close.

***

After making sure you’ve scrubbed every last persistent grain of sand that’d managed to take up residence in every nook and cranny of your body, you climb out of the shower, drying yourself off before you dip into the linen closet to retrieve the clothing you’d stashed in there this morning while Jake was making breakfast. First, you pull out the matching olive-colored lingerie set, examining yourself in the mirror as you bite your lips to hide the grin you’re wearing at the thought of Jake’s reaction. The lace leaves very little to the imagination and you giggle to yourself as you grab the last item of clothing, smiling to yourself as you run your fingers over Jake’s name on the back of the jersey as you pull it over your head. The jersey swallows you whole, the sleeves falling past the tips of your fingers and the hem brushes your thighs. It’s a far cry from the form-fitting set underneath, making you look a lot more cozy than sexy, but you know Jake’s going to love it. You swallow hard, steeling yourself as you reach for the door to the bedroom, adjusting your hair, nervously, as you swing the door open. Jake’s already sprawled across the bed, busy with something on his phone. He’s bare except for a pair of fitted black boxer briefs and you feel your breath catch at the sight of him. He looks up at the sound and you watch the look of awe cross his face.

“Bunny… Is that?” You grin at him shyly and nod, before spinning around to show him the back and gazing at him over your shoulder, biting your lip. “Fuck,” he groans and you watch his head tip back, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them to look back at you, eyes half-lidded. “Baby, you’re killing me.” You smirk before turning and heading towards the bed, climbing onto it, and approaching him, sitting back on your heels before him while he stares at you like he’s not sure you’re real. He reaches out to cup your cheek and you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “What did I do to deserve something as perfect as you?” He whispers reverently and your heart aches at the storm of emotions in his eyes as you reach up to cup his cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do anything, you always did.” You whisper back, pulling him close and this time when he kisses you it’s different. It’s hungry, your mouth parting instantly, his tongue sweeping in like a summer storm, twining with yours desperately, his hands shifting to your hips and he pulls you into his lap. You gasp as you feel the bulge of his growing erection press against your barely-clothed core and you rock against him instinctually, forcing a groan from him.

You whimper in response as his hands find the hem of the jersey, thumbs brushing the bare skin of your thighs silently asking for permission and you nod, not breaking the kiss as Jake’s hands grip the hem and pull it up your body slowly. Finally, you’re forced to part as he pulls the heap of fabric over your head and his breath catches yet again at the sight of the green lace against your skin.

“You see something you like, baby?” You tease and Jake growls, and suddenly you’re under him, gasping as he brings his good knee between your legs. You squirm, grinding down against it as Jake presses open-mouthed kisses to every available inch of bare skin along your jaw and neck. You gasp from the overwhelming sense of pleasure and then you feel Jake’s hands come up to cup your breasts over your bra and you arch into his touch, moans falling from your lips with abandon as his fingers stroke over the curves of your skin. “Jake, please,”

“Please what, Bunny?” You can feel his smirk against your neck and you whine.

“Need you, Jake, please, I need you.” You free one of your hands from where they’re clenching the sheets underneath you to tangle in his hair, pulling his head up to yours, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, desperacy in every action.

“I’m right here pretty girl, you’ve got me.” He shifts his knee up just as you grind down again and you gasp, crying out in pleasure at the sinful pressure to your core. Jake presses a soft kiss to your cheek before his hands drift to your back and you arch it for him as he shifts to undo the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts from the green lace. He helps you slide the fabric off your chest before latching his mouth on one of your nipples and you keen as he attends to the soft bud, nipping and teasing it with his tongue into a stiff peak while you squirm beneath him, tending to the other with his hand, pinching and rolling it before switching breasts. “So fucking beautiful, Bunny,” Jake growls, and you whimper, “made just for me.” Your lust-filled eyes meet his and the beautiful sea green has been swallowed by a black so deep that you shiver beneath him. You keep rolling your hips down against his knee as he absently shifts it against your clothed core. Jake lavishes your chest with his attention, whimpers and gasps escaping your mouth as you feel the rubber band of pleasure in your core begin to tighten.

“Jake, Jake please I need more, need you, please Jake!” Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him from your breasts to face the look of pure want and desperation on your face as you hump his knee shamelessly.

“You gonna come all over my knee, baby?” He asks, reaching up to stroke your cheek gently as you shake your head.

“Can’t. Jake, I need you!” His eyes soften and he squeezes your cheek.

“Alright, alright, I’ve got you, Bunny.” He shifts his knee away from your core and you whine at the loss until you watch him slide down your body until he’s face-to-face with the damp spot that graces the barely-there crotch of your panties. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the wet spot and you cry out for him. Then he hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties and eases them down your legs. You moan when he brings them to his lips, licking your arousal off the crotch and groaning at the taste. “I always knew you’d taste sweet, Bunny but you’re better than I could have imagined. You squirm, going to close your legs in embarrassment but Jake stops you with firm hands on the inside of your thighs, spreading them and holding you open for him as he gazes at your bare core. “So fucking wet, baby, is this all for me?” You nod, turning your head to bury it in the sheets that are saturated with his scent, your cheeks warm with nerves and excitement as you search for the comfort that fills your nostrils as Jake nips at the inside of your thigh and you yelp in surprise. “Need to hear you, Bunny.” You turn back to meet his dark eyes as you choke out the words.

“Yes, Jake, all for you!” He smiles, pleased with your answer, and then his broad tongue swipes across you, from bottom to top, ending on your clit, and your back arches away from the bed as you cry out in overwhelming pleasure. He dives in, then, his tongue drawing pleasure from your core that you didn’t even think was possible as he alternates between flicking, nipping, and sucking at your swollen bud as you wither beneath his touch. Then you feel him shift and then there’s a finger prodding at your entrance. You gasp as Jake eases a finger into your sopping core, your walls clenching around the digit and Jake groans against your clit, the vibration making you breathless.

“So fucking tight, Bunny.” He growls as he begins to pump the digit in and out of you, curling it, searching for that special spot.

“I-It’s been a while,” you admit as you adjust to the intrusion. Jake looks up at you then, eyes full of concern despite the lust that clouds them.

“How long, baby?”

“N-Not since college.” You look away as your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “There wasn’t really time to date, let alone fuck.”

“Hey,” Jake’s voice calls your eyes back to his and they're full of nothing but love as he gazes at you. “That’s okay, you know that right? We can take this as fast or as slow as you want. If you’re ever uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?” His thumb traces shapes on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and he leans in to press a light kiss to the area, not breaking eye contact with you as he does so, waiting for your confirmation. You nod and he gives you a look that says he needs to hear you say it so you do.

“I love you, Jake, and I trust you. More than I’ve trusted anyone before.” You reassure him and he has a wistful look on his face as he repeats the words between kisses that trail back to your core. With that, he resumes the movement of his fingers and lips and you descend back into a pool of pure pleasure as your hands find themselves tangled in his sweaty blonde locks, urging him closer. You gasp as Jake’s seeking finger finds its quarry and sparks explode behind your lowered eyelids. “Jake, there, right there!” He chuckles against your core and his finger finds the spot over and over with such precision that you feel the coil in your stomach tightening again. The combination of his tongue and his fingers, once he adds another, is overwhelming and you’re squirming all over the bed, held in place by Jake’s arm banding across your middle. Your legs are wrapped around his head, urging him closer, and finally, as Jake’s teeth scrape over your sensitive clit, your climax washes over you as you scream for him. He works through your peak as you sob in pleasure until you’re squirming away from him, overstimulated. His face is drenched in your release as he gazes up at you, his fingers lazily stretching you out as you recover from your orgasm.

“You okay, sweet girl?” You nod, basking in the post-orgasmic glow as he looks like you like he’s just cum himself. One glance at the painfully stretched material of his boxers tells you otherwise and you’re reaching for him before he shakes his head, sitting up and crawling over to his bedside table. You whine in complaint as he fishes out a condom, and when he’s back by your side, leaning over your prone form, you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and he kicks them off somewhere you can’t see. Not that you’re looking, because your eyes are locked on his cock where it’s standing at attention against his stomach. It’s beautiful and you reach a shy hand out to wrap around the velvet skin and Jake lets out a groan of pleasure. You give it an experimental stroke and Jake’s hand shoots to your wrist, halting your movements. “Baby, if you keep that up, I’m going to finish before we even get a chance to start.” Your cheeks warm at his brutal honesty but you retract your hand nonetheless as Jake rolls the condom down his impressive length. You swallow nervously. There’s no way he’s going to fit in you, but he doesn’t seem too concerned until he looks up to see the tentative pinch of your brows as you stare at him unabashedly. “Everything okay, Bunny?”

“Jake, there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me.” The words fall out before you can think to stop them and Jake chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little mind about that, Bunny, I’m gonna take care of you. You trust me, right?”

With those words, your anxiety evaporates, because he’s right. You trust him. If he says he’s going to take care of you, you have nothing to fear. “I trust you, Jake. Always.” With that, you feel Jake’s tip brush against you and he reaches down to use your slick to coat his length before returning the tip to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow, Bunny, you tell me when you’re ready for more, okay?” You nod against his forehead that’s pressed against you. He presses forward and you feel the tip slide past your entrance. His cock is so much bigger than his fingers could have prepared you for and your hands fly up to grip his shoulders as you tense up. “Hey Bunny, you need to relax for me baby, just let go, it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” He snakes a hand down to rub circles into your clit and you feel your body relax into his touch. “There we go, such a good girl for me.” He kisses your temple as he pushes deeper into you.

The combination of his sweet words and his fingers eases the rest of the process and soon he’s seated fully inside you and you’re whining for him to move. Jake begins to thrust slowly and you’re clawing at his shoulders at the feeling of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You feel so full and the drag of him is downright sinful. You’re crying for him to move faster and he complies, the bedroom filling with a beautiful symphony of your voices and bodies. His pace is simultaneously steady and rough, his hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in as you sing for him. You feel the pressure in your core building up again when Jake’s body stutters and he falters, almost collapsing on top of you and you grasp at his arms, doing your best to steady him as he lets out an uncomfortable grunt. It’s then that you notice that he’s got all his weight on his good leg, doing his best to fuck you without doing any damage to his injured knee and your heart aches for him. His forehead is pressed to your shoulder as he struggles to catch his breath. You sink your hands into his sandy hair, stroking it gently. “Jake, Jake are you okay?” He grunts and you gently push at his chest. He looks up at you as you take the opportunity to flip the two of you over, arranging Jake on his back so his legs can get some respite before you crawl into his lap, leaning down to capture his lips with yours. You can feel the gratitude he’s conveying with his lips and reach down to guide his length between your legs and when you straighten, you feel the tip slip back into you. Jake hisses beneath you and you caress his cheek. “Let me take care of you now, baby.” He looks at you like you hang the moon and the stars as you sink down onto his length, moaning sinfully at the new angle. It feels like he’s splitting you apart and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him filling you. Then you give an experimental roll of your hips and Jake is gasping in pleasure beneath you. You shift to raise your hips, feeling him slide out of you before you drop back down, slowly building a rhythm as you ride him slowly. The angle is delicious and you adjust yourself, struggling to get Jake’s cock to hit where you need him. Regardless, your clit brushes against his hair with each pass of your hips and you’re slowly building back up to your orgasm. You see Jake watching you as you bounce on his cock, his face a picture of pleasure and awe. Your thighs burn from the strain but you push past it, thinking about how he had done the same for the sake of your pleasure. You feel the coil in your belly disappear as your muscles burn from the strain of riding Jake but judging from the look on his face, it’s worth it. That is until your body catches up with you and you lose your balance, tumbling toward Jake’s chest. His firm hands wrap around your waist, steadying you before you faceplant into his tits.

“Easy, Bunny, I’ve got you.” His voice is low and raspy with need but you can hear the concern in it all the same. Even now, so close to his orgasm, he’s checking in on you. “You okay?” You’re shaken up and your thighs still burn. You’re not sure you’ll be able to help Jake finish and you hate the twinge of insecurity that lingers in your heart even as you nod. You lean forward to press your hands against his chest for balance, the angle changing and Jake ruts up against you, involuntarily and you gasp at the feeling. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he keeps his firm hands on your hips before planting the foot of his good leg on the bed, as he fucks up into you. Even though you keep your exhaustion from him, he knows. His hands guide your hips up and down his cock, taking the lead, one thumb reaching to rub at your clit, wanting to ensure that you’re feeling good too. Finally one of his thrusts finds the spot you’d been searching for and you cry out in pleasure, alerting him to his discovery. He shifts his hands slightly, holding your hips in place as he doubles down on that spot, chasing your pleasure and his orgasm in tandem. You’re gasping and shaking above him, your breasts bouncing with every thrust and then you feel Jake twitch inside you and he throws his head back against the bed, his thrusts turning sloppy as he finds his end. His fingers dutifully rub tight circles into your nub even as he rides out the wave of his own pleasure and then you’re following him over the peak, your body going boneless and he eases you down to collapse against his chest. The two of you bask in the afterglow, your sweaty skin presses against each other as your chests heave and you catch your breath. “I love you so much, sweet girl,” Jake murmurs into your hair and you gaze up at him with a sated smile.

“I love you more.”

***

Monday morning goes smoothly enough. You get to sleep in a little since you don’t have to worry about driving to Jake’s to pick him up. Javy dropped the now-repaired truck off before he left for Cabo, so everything’s ready to roll. Jake makes pancakes and you can’t help but be reminded of your first day at his house. The two of you make it to the arena without any fuss and you’re in your office attempting to catch up with all the work you’re not behind on while Maverick and Dare meet with Jake to discuss strategies and training he’s been missing. It’s easy enough to pretend that nothing’s changed between you and Jake when you’re separated but you’re worried about what will happen once you’re forced into professional proximity. Now that you’ve had a taste of Jake, you don’t want to let him go, and after two weeks of living with him, you’re used to spending almost all your time with at least some part of him touching you, so you feel the loss physically as you’re alone in your office. You’re not alone for long, though, as a knock sounds at your door and you call out for them to come in. It doesn’t sound like Cyclone’s sharp rapping that makes you jump in your chair but you can’t be sure until Javy enters your office. “Javy, hey, what can I do for you?” He has a guarded look on his face and you can’t help the uneasiness that eats at your stomach. You gesture for him to sit across from you but he stays standing, dark forearms folded across his chest.

“We need to talk, Bugs.” You swallow. You know Javy’s not your biggest fan right now. He’s mad at Jake for not telling him about the two of you. In Jake’s defense, there hadn’t really been a two of you until after Javy found out but things were already tense between the two of them before that. “Of course Javy, what’s on your mind?”

“Look Bugs, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Jake’s injury, I really do, but I have to ask what you think you’re doing with him outside of work.” Your heart stops. He wants to talk about this here? Now? Jake’s words come back to you and you take a deep breath. If you go, I go. Javy’s his best friend, and just like when he approached you on your first day, he just wants what’s best for Jake, and right now you’re the furthest possible thing from that.

“Javy, I know it doesn’t look good, believe me, I know that. I also know it goes against every oath I’ve taken and contract I’ve signed.” Javy nods, his face giving away nothing. “I never intended to fall for Jake.” Your voice trembles slightly with emotion but you can’t let him break your confidence because you’re sure about Jake. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be doing this. “I know what’s at stake for both of us if the wrong people find out about this and I never want Jake to get hurt. You have to know that. I did everything I could to keep things professional between us, but it happened anyway.” You shake your head. “I love him, Javy. And I’ve never said that about a guy before. It’s not just passing infatuation, it’s not just me throwing myself at him because of what he does for a living, I genuinely really love him.” You put your head in your hands, taking a shaking breath. “I love him so much that it scares the life out of me, Javy, and I don’t know what else to do.” It comes out as a whisper but you hear Javy’s breath catch so you know he hears it.

“Jake said that there’s no way you’d hurt him because you’ve been hurt before.” You stiffen at his words. “He said it wasn’t his place to tell me more than that so I’m asking you, what’s he talking about?” You sigh. It was only a matter of time until more people found out the truth about how you came to be working with the Dogfighters and you’d rather them hear it from you. So you motion to the chair across from you and this time Javy sits, and you tell him your story.

When you finish, the ice in his eyes has thawed and what you see isn’t pity but guilt. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Bugs.” You give him a rueful smile before you shrug.

“It got me here, and I have a chance to actually make a difference here, so it wasn’t all for naught. I wouldn’t have met any of you, including Jake and he could still be suffering.” Your voice breaks at the thought and you swallow, trying to control your emotions. Javy gets up and crosses around to the other side of your desk and you let him hug you.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” He says, pulling away to lean on the edge of your desk as you nod.

“It’s not your fault Javy, I think we both know that this industry isn’t immune to abuses of power imbalances. But I promise you, I’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt Jake.”

“I know that now. And if Jake trusts you, I think I should too. Hell, even Zam’s on your side and she’s wound so tight I think she’s going to explode one of these days.”

“Well, you don’t exactly make it easy for her.” You arch a knowing eyebrow at him and he groans.

“Okay, don’t you start.” You shrug.

“Just a piece of friendly advice, Javy. Your PR rep is the last person you want to piss off. She can very easily let your whole life go to hell even if that’s not her job.”

“I think I can handle her.” He says with a smirk as he pushes off your desk and heads towards the door to your office. You shake your head, smiling at him.

“I don’t think anyone can handle her, Javy. Not really.” He laughs as he waves, leaving you alone with your paperwork once again.

***

Your first week back is a success in staying low-key. Jake spends any free time he has at work making sure to get as much bonding as he can in with the other guys, trying his best to keep up his role as captain even when he can’t be on the ice. He’s making great progress with his leg now that you once again have full access to the physical therapy facilities. You’ve been meeting with Hondo, the Dogfighter’s athletic trainer to start developing a regiment that’ll have Jake back on the ice in time for the first game of the season. Maverick and Dare have agreed to have Jake sit out of the preseason games next week to give him additional time to rest and recover. There are three weeks until the season officially starts and you’re in the home stretch. You’ve unofficially moved in with Jake after you made an attempt to go back to living at your apartment until Jake made a convincing argument that you should just stay with him until he’s completely back up and running. Admittedly, it didn’t take much convincing on his part. You’re happy with him, living in his house, and sleeping in his bed. Everything’s perfect.

That’s probably how you find yourself seated on your desk, the papers you’d been reading splayed out beneath you as Jake’s tongue explores your mouth lazily. He’d come in to drop off the lunch he’d bought for you when he and Javy went out for burgers at the place around the block, but that had been abandoned after Jake pointed out how “delicious you looked in your scrubs.” The fact that you’re at work and that there’s no lock on your door has been temporarily forgotten in your passion. Jake’s fingers have dipped under the hem of your top, stroking the soft skin of your belly as his tongue mirrors the movement in your mouth. And that’s how Cyclone finds you when he walks into your office without knocking for once. Later you’ll wonder if he actually did knock and the two of you were so wrapped up in each other to notice but regardless, the jig is up.

“SERESIN. BUGS. MY OFFICE. NOW.” The two of you jump apart and you’re met with cold, icy green eyes that don’t hold an ounce of empathy or forgiveness in them.

~~~~~

A/N: So, how about that cliffhanger…

203 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 5 months

Text

If I was her I’d make two different baby books. One for cute things that you show your family and keep for the baby when they’re older.

The other? My heartbroken self would make one that’s more petty. Like a picture of when the kid breaks a bone and the blurb is “the day you weren’t there to hold her hand when she needed it”

A photo of daughter sleeping in a pillow Fort after a particular loud storm with the blurb “she’s terrified of storms. This one was bad. She cried out for me. She never cried for you because her daddy is a man whose chose her as his own”

And an empty slot near the end with the blurb “this is her graduation that we all know will be just her and me”

Actually I might use this idea of two baby books for a fic later 🥴

My Daughter, My Heart Pt. 1

Summary: Jake gets his papers and instead of talking it out with his long-term girlfriend he does something that is beyond repairable.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Ex-Girlfriend (OC: Elizabeth Taylor), Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, heartbreak

Masterlist

My Daughter, My Heart

Prolog Part 1

The alarm on Jake's phone is what woke him up. He was quick to wake up and turn it off and when he did so he looked over at his girlfriend of 5 years and smiled at her sleeping form. He loved her he really did but the thought of him getting deployed and him having to break her heart when he didn't come back broke him even though he didn't let anyone see it. Breaking out of his thoughts he slowly got up and looked at the time and the clock read 5:30 AM he sighed and got up and started getting ready for the day.

Once a shower was done and everything to do in the bathroom was done he was heading to the kitchen. Jake started the coffee to get it going for both him and Elizabeth as the coffee was going he went outside to the mailbox. Most of the time he would get in a morning run but decided against it he could do it after work. As he was walking down the driveway their neighbor Mrs. Allen was out walking her dog. "Hi, Jake!" She said excitedly and Jake smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Allen. Early start of your day I see." He said as he was opening the mailbox and grabbing the mail.

"Yes! I'm going to be out for most of the day and need to get the energy going." She said and he smiled and nodded. Jake was dressed in his Navy ABUs. He would get changed into his flight suit once he got there.

"I understand that. Well, it's been nice talking to you!" Jake said as he waved to her with the mail in his hand.

"You too, Jake! I'll see you around." She said and he smiled and nodded and headed up the house. When he got in there he heard the shower running and he smiled because that meant that Elizabeth was up and getting ready for the day.

As Jake was looking through the mail he found nothing too exciting than one piece stuck out to him it was labeled with the Navy's official stamp and his name sprawled across it. He put down the rest of the mail and opened that piece. They were sending him on a 1-year long deployment and his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw that they were sending him Saturday night, tomorrow night. He truly did love deployments but that also meant a chance of him not coming home. When he heard the patter of feet coming down the stairs he quickly put the letter away with his work stuff and smiled when Elizabeth came into the room. "Good morning." She said with a smile and he smiled back.

"Good morning." He replied and kissed her as she walked up to him. He handed her coffee and she began going through the mail. Seeing nothing interesting or immediate attention she pushed it to the side. "I'm gonna be late tonight." Jake said to her and she nodded.

"That's ok. I'm gonna have to stay late to finish up some grading and paperwork." Elizabeth said and he nodded. He had already made up his mind that on his lunch break, he would come and get his stuff. He didn't have much there considering that it was her place and he had already bought a place before he met her so it was still considered very new and he was letting Javy, his friend from The Naval Academy, stay there. He was in his mind thinking of everything and wasn't paying attention until she had said his name. "Jake?" Elizabeth asked and he looked up.

"Hmmm?" He asked

"Did you hear me?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No sorry I have a lot of my mind." He said and she frowned.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No. I got to get to work. I love you." He said and kissed her hard and extra long then he headed out the door, leaving a confused Elizabeth. He didn't even give her a chance to say she loved him back.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jake got to the base in record time and through the gate without any trouble. As soon as he parked another car pulled in next to him and he recognized it as Javy’s. They both got out at the same time. "Did you get the orders?" Javy and Jake nodded.

"Yup. Sure did. You?" Jake said as they walked into their building and to the office that they shared.

"Yea I did, I leave the say after you. Have you told Elizabeth?" Javy asked. He was fond of Elizabeth and considered her a friend.

"No. I don't want to. I'm thinking of ending things with her." Jake said and it pained him to say that.

"What? Why?" Javy asked looking at him shocked.

"This is the longest deployment I'm going to be on. All the others were short. I don't want to break her heart when I don't come home. So I'm gonna go at lunch and move out and back to the house." He said and finally looked up at his friend who was looking at him like he had two heads.

"Jake. That's absurd, even for you." Javy said and Jake hung his head.

"I know but it has to be done. I don't have much there." He said and Javy sighed and gave up trying to convince him to do the opposite of what he's going to do.

"Fine. I'm not happy with your decision but I'll help you." Javy said and Jake nodded.

"We'll go at lunch." Jake said

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

After the weird goodbye, Elizabeth got ready for the day. Jake's behavior still running through her mind. She didn't know what to think about it and tried not to think about it. She and Jake had met through Javy and it was an instant connection. As she was putting her makeup on for the day so made a mental note to text Jake. As she was walking down the steps she decided to go ahead and text him.

I don't know what happened this morning but I love you and hope you have a good day.

She hit send and waited for a reply, which usually happened fairly soon after the first text. As she waited so got nothing and that made her heart drop. She decided to push it behind her and get along with her day. Elizabeth worked on base at the school. She was the middle school history teacher and she loved her job.

When she was done inside she headed out to her car and started her journey to the base. She wasn't in the Navy but a civilian working on a Navy base. When she got to the school she parked and walked in. Soon her students would start piling in. She tried to call Jake hoping he wasn't up in the air. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number after 3 rings it went to voice-mail.

You've reached Jake Seresin. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Hey Jake, it's me. I'm not going to be able to do lunch today. I'm just not feeling all that great. I hope you have a good day and I love you.

Elizabeth frowned as she finished her message this was not like Jake. She didn't have to think long because a turning in her gut had her rushing out of her classroom and to a nearby bathroom. She barely made it into the stall before she was throwing up. This had been going on for about a week, she thought it was just a stomach bug that she had caught from her students so she let it go. She didn't tell Jake because she didn't want to burden him. When she was done throwing up she went back to her classroom just as soon as the students started to come in. She sighed and started her day.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When lunchtime came around for Jake and Javy both men went and got into Jake’s truck and went to the house. Before they left the building Jake saw that he had some messages from Elizabeth but decided to ignore them. When he listened to the voice-mail he thought maybe what he was doing was out of line and he should back out, but those thoughts came back and he decided to move along with his plan. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Javy asked and Jake nodded.

"I'm sure." He said as they pulled out of the base and drove the short amount of time to the house. When they got there and parked in the driveway and headed inside everything was the same as they had left it. Jake sighed standing in the kitchen looking around but got a move on, if he wanted to do this he needed to do it now.

"You're 100% sure?" Javy asked one more time looking around the house that he had been to so many times.

"Yes, Javy. I'm 100% committed to this decision." Jake said with a slight annoyance even though he was thinking about having second thoughts.

"Ok man. Just making sure." Javy said as he followed Jake to the bedroom. Everything was still the same. Jake went to the closet and pulled out two duffle bags and sat them on the bed and began to put his belongings in them. It was silent as the two men worked with the occasional question from Javy about something.

All of the clothes and bathroom items were cleaned out and packed they headed to the front of the house. Jake had decided to leave the TV, couches, and most of the appliances there for her since he was going to be deployed and wouldn't need them. He grabbed his computer, charges, extra phone charges, and odds and ends that were lying around. "I think that's everything." Jake said while doing a look around one more time.

"I don't think this is right. She loves you, man." Javy said and Jake sighed and hung his head. He knew it was wrong but to him, it had to be done.

"I know. I just don't want to break her heart when I don't come home." Jake said and Javy nodded as they picked the stuff up and headed to Jake’s truck and put everything in the backseat. Jake had left his keys sitting on the counter along with the garage door remote. He still had time if he wanted to back out but he pushed those feelings behind and walked out the door for the last time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When the school had let out for the day Elizabeth stayed back and worked on some work like she would. She sighed and smiled a little to herself thankful it was Friday but also for the little child growing in her. During her lunch hour, she had run up to the store and bought a couple of pregnancy tests and took them when she got back to the school, and after waiting 5 minutes they both showed positive. She and Jake weren't actively trying but they sure weren't doing anything to avoid it.

When she finished up what she needed she packed her stuff up and headed to her car. She said her goodbyes to her friends and colleagues who had stayed late as well. She had been too busy to text or call Jake so she sent him a message. When she got her phone out she frowned at the lack of notifications.

Hey! Finally done for the day! I'm heading home! I can't wait to see you! I have some news!

She waited a good amount of time, more like the amount of time for her to get her stuff packed in her car before she looked at her phone again. Nothing. She was getting nervous and her stomach was in knots, she was worried.

All she could think about while driving home from work was that something bad happened to him. She loved him with all of her heart and would love to get married and have a family with him. She exited the base with ease and started her journey home. The time seemed to drag by especially since she wanted to get home.

When she got home his truck was not in the driveway and when she opened the garage it wasn't in there either. She felt like she could vomit right then and there. She turned off her car and headed inside.

When she got inside something felt off and when she noticed his phone charger missing from the counter she frowned. 'Maybe he came home at lunch to grab it', she thought which made her nerves ease up. As she was going through the house she was starting to get nervous again. Everything of his was mostly gone. She wasn't going to let it get to her just yet but when she got into the bedroom and saw the drawers open and the closet empty of his stuff tears welled up in her eyes. "This can't be happening." She said aloud to herself. She stood there in front of their now her bed and she felt sick, she rushed to the bathroom and vomited. When she was done she rinsed her mouth out and then noticed his toothbrush, cologne, and other bathroom necessities gone and that's when tears leaked out for the first time. "Fuck, this can't be happening. Not now!" She yelled out and ran to the living room to find extra shoes by the front door and his extra jackets gone. She stumbled to the couch sat down and called the only person she knew who would answer. Javy. It rang twice before he answered.

"Hello?" He answered while sitting in his and Jake's office while Jake was doing last-minute training and adjustments.

"Javy. Can you come over?" She asked

"Give me 10 minutes." Javy said and she sobbed out.

"Thank you." She said and they hung up.

She sat there for 10 minutes sobbing as she heard Javy’s car pull up. She rushed out of the house and crashed into his arms. "Everything ok?" He asked even though he knew what she had found.

"Everything of his is gone." She chocked out.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he ushered her inside.

"Everything that he owned." She said as they sat down on the couch "Nothing is here. He hasn't been answering my texts or calls. Do you think he found someone else?" She asked looking up at him with tear streaks down her face.

"No, I don't think he would do that. He loves you too much." Javy said bringing her in for a hug and silently cursing him out.

"I need him, Javy. I need him because I can't raise this baby on my own." She said and that shocked him into silence.

"Say that again." He said knowing he heard her correctly.

"I'm pregnant." She said looking up at him.

"Does he know?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, I was gonna tell him tonight. I found out this afternoon. Please don’t tell him." She said and he brought her into a hug again.

"Everything is gonna be ok. I promise. I won't tell him." Javy said as he held his friend until her crying had turned to hiccups and her breath evened out. He held her there cursing Jake. He took his phone out and opened Jake's contact and hit text message.

I'm with Liz. You fucked up, man. Big time.

He hit send and got comfortable.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jake had just gotten into the locker room and was changing when his phone went off. He grabbed his phone and saw a message from Javy and his heart dropped. He never wanted to hurt her just protect her. Maybe he took it too far.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@persesphonestears

@grandstrangerphantom

124 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

Please have Cat and BG at some point go “we need to schedule a play date soon” and it cuts to Jake, Rooster and Jeremiah playing chase in the parking lot 🤣

Always Ever Only You Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you manage to keep your spirits high through a rough patch, Bradley is as supportive of your needs as ever. He's working hard to take care of you in every way, and when he comes home with some unexpected paperwork, it's your turn to be supportive of him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"It's funny to me that you think you're being coy right now," Bradley told Jake in the locker room. He was avoiding answering questions about his dates with Cat. Bradley knew for a fact that they went on at least two, because that's what you had told him. And he assumed that Jake or Cat had given you that information directly.

"Some things are sacred, Bradshaw," he said as he applied his deodorant while Bradley dried his hair with his towel and started to get dressed.

But you had also informed Bradley that the two of them had agreed to take it a little slow now, especially since Cat and Jeremiah were living with her Uncle Bernie. So as Bradley pulled on his underwear, he knew just what to say to bait Jake. "You fuck her yet?" he asked casually, barely able to keep a straight face.

Jake rounded on him immediately, green eyes furious. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he hissed. "First of all, it's none of your business, but no. Second, you don't have to be so fucking crude about it, man. And third, I never asked you that when you were following Angel around the Hard Deck and all over base like a lost puppy."

Bradley erupted in laughter as he reached into his locker for his undershirt. "Chill, Hangman. I just wanted to see how serious you are. And furthermore, this is the first time you haven't been crude in your life. And further furthermore, you absolutely did ask me if I nailed my wife way back then, because you were mad she turned you down."

Jake stared off into space with his brow creased. "Huh. Well I am serious about Cat. And Jeremiah. But Hondo still gets a little riled up whenever he sees me. Been avoiding him on the tarmac like my life depends on it. And if I ever asked you for any sort of details about Angel, I deeply regret doing so now. Please, keep that shit to yourself."

"Happily," Bradley replied, thinking about your ass in your khaki pants and smiling. When he headed out to the parking garage, Jake walked with him. And when he got to his Bronco, he realized Jake had parked near him. And Cat was waiting for Jake, leaning against the passenger side door, looking at her phone.

When she glanced up, she smiled and said, "Jake," with longing in her voice. And then she realized Bradley was there, too and straightened her posture like she was standing at attention. "Hi, Bradley."

Oh, they were both making it way too easy to fuck with them. Bradley grinned as he abandoned his Bronco for Jake's car instead. "How's it going? How's my little buddy, Jeremiah?"

She smiled a little cautiously. "He's great. Obsessed with dogs now from playing at your house."

"Yeah, well he's welcome any time," Bradley said, leaning against Jake's car. "Tramp loves licking crumbs off him. Actually Jake was just telling me all about your dates."

"Was he?" she asked quietly, and Bradley thought she looked pleased. Jake was glowering at him from the other side of the car, and Bradley caught sight of a car seat in the back.

"Oh yeah," Bradley said with a nod. "Jake only looks like an ass, but he's actually okay." Cat snorted, and Jake glowered harder. "Are you guys going to go pick Jeremiah up now?"

"Yeah," Jake said loudly. "Better get a move on."

But Cat just looked up at Bradley and said, "I'm trying to get him in the daycare program on base here, but I'm on a wait list. And the facility he's in now is across town, and it's really not that great. But it's affordable," she said with a bit of a shrug.

Bradley nodded, giving up his original plan to mess with the two of them. He was pretty sure Jake would pay for a better daycare for her son if they were dating seriously. You'd told him a bit about Cat's ex husband and how she was in financial ruin.

"Well, you have free babysitters," he told her softly. "Really good ones, too."

She laughed softly and leaned in a little closer. "Thanks. Yeah, top notch babysitters. Especially Tramp."

Bradley laughed, too, and then Jake cleared his throat loudly. "If the two of you are finished over there..."

"Later," Bradley told Cat with a grin. And when he walked around toward the Bronco, he winked at Jake and said, "Nice car seat, man."

Jake flipped him off rather discreetly, but he looked happy. When Bradley pulled his Bronco out of his parking spot, he noticed that Jake had walked around to the passenger side of his car. He and Cat were kissing, and Jake was once again holding his middle finger up behind his back for Bradley.

When he got home, your car was already there. "Sweetheart," he called out as he walked inside. "I am on the cutting edge of the Jake gossip today." You were on the couch wrapped up in his undershirt and a blanket even though it was May, and you were eating a pack of cookies. "You okay?" he asked softly, but he already knew.

You nodded and met his eyes. "I got my period today." Your voice was bland and emotionless, but at least you weren't crying. You just looked exhausted and defeated.

Bradley made a beeline to the couch and bent to kiss your forehead. "I love you," he promised as you looked up at him, the faintest smile on your lips. "I'll get your heating pad and some Advil? You want a glass of wine?"

"Yeah," you whispered. He didn't even take the time to remove his boots, and Tramp followed him from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen in search of supplies.

"I'll walk you in a bit. Relax," Bradley coaxed, tossing a treat that the dog caught in midair. "Mommy needs a cuddle first." And it was like the animal listened to him, because a minute later, you were snuggled up on Bradley's lap along with Tramp and the heating pad.

"How was your day?" you asked softly with your eyes closed. Bradley wasn't sure what he should or shouldn't mention right now. He wanted to make sure you were doing okay, but he didn't want to upset you over your period. He wasn't upset about it at all.

"My day was fine. Do you... want to talk about anything?"

You sighed. "If you're referring to my period? No, not really. I'm okay, I promise. Just a little disappointed, but I think that's mainly because it came a day late, and I was getting just the tiniest bit hopeful, you know?"

Truthfully, Bradley hadn't been keeping up with your cycle, but now that he did the math, you were most likely ovulating right when he got home from deployment. "That makes sense," he whispered, kissing your hair. But he had been too happy since he returned home to let this ruin his day. "But you still got me."

You snuggled in a little closer and kissed his neck. "What's your hot Jake gossip?"

"Well...." It was his time to shine. He always found out everything late or after the fact, and you always liked to pick on him for it. "He and Cat went to pick Jeremiah up from daycare. Together."

You yawned and mumbled, "Yeah, they've been doing that for the past week or so."

"Oh," he said, slightly annoyed that this wasn't news to you. "Well, he also told me he hasn't even slept with her yet," he added.

"I know. I think he's secretly afraid of Hondo kicking his ass."

"Oh. Well, Jake has a car seat for Jeremiah now. But I'm assuming you already know that."

"Of course I do. But this was a really solid effort on your part, Roo. I'm so proud of you."

He just grunted and helped you readjust your heating pad. "I'm supposed to play golf in the morning, unless you'd rather I stay here and make you breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I feel bad enough already. But after you and Jake play golf, we're going out to dinner with him."

"We are? When did this happen? I just saw him."

You grinned up at him and said, "I was just texting Cat. Jake found a kid friendly restaurant that he thought would be great for Jeremiah. I said you'd probably really like it too. There is apparently a playground inside."

Bradley was quiet for a moment as you ran your fingers up along his neck. "Okay... that does sound really fun. Are there swings? I could push Jeremiah on the swings."

"I think there might be."

"I'm in."

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

You managed to get up and make Bradley breakfast even though you felt awful. But he spent Friday night cleaning the house after he got you in bed for the night with the heating pad, so you figured some scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel was the least you could do.

"Jesus, Baby Girl," he moaned, as if you had made him a gourmet breakfast. "So fucking good."

"Thanks for cleaning and doing the laundry," you said before you yawned. But Bradley collected you in his arms and held you.

"Thanks for being the best person in the world," he replied, scooping you up and carrying you back to the bedroom while you giggled. "Now get back in bed and get some rest. We've got dinner and the Hard Deck later."

Then he spun his cap backwards and climbed gently on top of you with a grin. "What are you doing?" you asked, but he cut off your words with his lips.

"Loving my wife for a minute," he muttered, kissing you hard and parting your lips with his. You tasted his tongue as you moaned, and your fingers found their way to the short hair at the back of his neck. His mustache was really doing it for you, but as soon as you ran your tongue along it, Bradley was pulling away from you.

"Roo," you whined as he rolled off of you and adjusted his pants.

"I'll be back after lunchtime," he whispered, and just the sight of his hand on his cock through the fabric of his white golf pants had you pouting. "I love you."

You begrudgingly said, "I love you, too. Even though you're leaving me high and dry." Then you rolled over as he chuckled and left. And you thought about his hands gripping his golf club in those soft, sexy gloves until you were able to fall asleep again.

When you woke up hours later, you were starving and decided to eat a sandwich while you lounged on the back patio. You tossed pieces of crust to Tramp and then you wandered back inside, running your finger along the piano keys as you went. The house was too quiet, and it gave you that melancholy feeling that you got when Bradley was deployed.

For the briefest moment, you imagined a baby in your arms. Someone to keep you company while he was away. A little one to grow up knowing what it felt like to miss their dad and then be reunited with him over and over again. Someone else for Bradley to dote on. You swallowed down the miserable feeling before it could take over. A baby was not more important than your marriage. A baby did not need to happen at this moment. A child would be welcomed at any time, not just right now.

You drew a bath, and you were barely in there for more than five minutes when Tramp jumped up from the bath mat and ran for the front door.

"Sweetheart?"

"In the bathroom," you called, and a second later Bradley was in the room with you. "How were the guys?"

"The usual," he grunted as he knelt on the mat and dipped his fingers in the water. "How was your morning?" he asked, keeping a totally innocent expression on his face as he stroked your breast just under the water's surface.

"Missed you. Got myself a little sad, because it felt like a day when you were deployed."

Bradley tossed his cap on the floor and said, "I'm right here. I'm yours for the rest of the day. The rest of the weekend. Until we have to go to work on Monday."

"I know," you said, your voice sounding so small as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Will you go see Dr. Genevieve with me next week?"

He answered immediately as his hand found yours. "Of course. I haven't been to therapy in years. It'll be good."

You gaped at him. "You've seen a therapist before?"

"Yeah," he replied with his brow scrunched. "College was a very rough time for me without my mom. And Mav pulled my papers. And I didn't feel like I really belonged anywhere. I never told you that?"

You were just in awe of this man and his notebooks and his open honesty right now and the fact that you were always learning more about him. "No. But I'm really proud of you."

He smiled softly and blushed. "We can go see Dr. Genevieve together. We can do everything together. But you're not allowed to make fun of me if I have more fun at the restaurant tonight than the one year old."

You shook your head and said, "It would come as a surprise to literally nobody."

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

"I don't know why he's fussing so much. He's usually a good eater," Cat said, cutting up some food into tiny pieces while Jeremiah remained on the verge of tears in the high chair. Bradley noticed that Jake was looking a little stressed out, presumably because Jeremiah wasn't enjoying the restaurant as much as he had hoped. Jake had spent all morning at the golf course talking about how excited he was.

"Let me see here," Bradley murmured, picking up the rainbow colored fork and tickling Jeremiah with his fingers while he held out a bite of food. In an instant he was laughing, and then he had a mouthful of food. "You love it here, right kiddo? We played on the swings. We drew on the walls. Your mom let you eat dessert first, and Jake won you a porcupine in the claw machine. Now eat up."

"You're incredible," Cat whispered. "No wonder he likes going to your house so much."

"Nah," Bradley said as Jeremiah took hold of the fork for himself. "It's all her and the way she can read a board book like it was written by a Pulitzer Prize winner." He leaned in and kissed you as you beamed at him. Bradley had spent the better part of an hour after your bath rubbing your back while reading some of his notebook entries to you. It always really seemed to make an impact where sometimes his verbal skills escaped him. But when he wrote his feelings out on a piece of paper, it made all the difference in the world.

"Are you coming to the Hard Deck after this?" you asked, turning to look at Jeremiah as he ate. "Well, not you, little man."

"Nope," Jake said with a cocky grin on his face and his arm draped across the back of Cat's chair. "We're going to watch the newest Scooby Doo movie back at my place and enjoy some of the chocolate chip cookies that I definitely made myself and did not buy at the store."

Cat laughed, and Bradley watched as she leaned in to whisper something to Jake as she brushed his hair back from the scar on his forehead. "They look happy," you muttered, taking Bradley's hand in yours underneath the table.

"Yeah," he agreed, carefully wiping Jeremiah's face as Cat kissed Jake like they were completely alone. "I'll roast him later for this. He always tells me we're disgusting."

"We are a little bit disgusting, Roo."

"Never said we weren't."

When you and he left the three of them a little while later and headed to the Hard Deck, Bradley was in an absolutely disgusting, soppy mood. You were singing along so badly to his favorite playlist while his hand rested on your thigh, and he was just so fucking proud of you for not letting your period take over your mood. Especially when all he wanted was to make you happy, and he knew it would have crushed him if you were being hard on yourself while he doted on you.

When he pulled into the parking lot and put the Bronco in park, he said, "I don't understand how you can sing so badly when you make the prettiest sounds I've ever heard in bed."

"Hey!" you complained with a laugh as you crawled across the seat and onto his lap. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I only have the nicest things to say about you and your singing voice," he promised with an obnoxious smile as you pushed his head back against the headrest and started to gently nibble on his neck. Soon you were sucking a little harder as your hand trailed up and down his bicep. "Oh shit. That feels great. Let's go home."

You moaned softly and licked a trail up to his ear before whispering, "Nope. You tease me, I'm going to tease you right back." Then you rubbed yourself against his cock, and Bradley tried to get his arm around you, but you were already jumping down from his lap to the parking lot.

"Hey!" he called out with a laugh as you ran ahead of him while he tried to lock the Bronco doors. When he jogged inside, you were already at the bar chatting with Penny. He made eye contact with you, and you smirked.

Bradley strolled up behind you and pressed himself against your butt, kissing the back of your neck. "Whenever you decide you want to behave, I'll be at the pool table," he whispered.

You just laughed and said, "You know that's not going to happen."

"Well, come say hi to Nat anyway," he added, laughing softly against your neck. Penny was looking at the two of you together with the softest expression, and Bradley figured that was how he usually looked at you, too. "You know, I can remember the early days before the two of you were together," Penny said over the buzz of conversation. "All the longing glances and sneaking off together." Bradley set his hand on your hip and said, "Hey, we thought we were being pretty discreet." "Nice try," Penny said with a laugh as she slid two beer bottles across the bar. "Were we not discreet?" Bradley whispered as you and he walked toward Nat. You beamed up at him. "I guess not." He watched you walk into his best friend's open arms for a hug. And now he was thinking about every way he could be less than discreet with you tonight. You kept touching him, just some fleeting brushes of your hand to his abs or arm while you chatted with the others, but you were relentless. When the beers were empty, you took his bottle and said, "I'll take these back up to the bar, and then I'm running to the ladies' room." Bradley just grunted as you squeezed his bicep. As soon as you disappeared down the hallway, he dug his phone out of his pocket and sent you a quick text. Meet me outside at our special spot? He waited and waited but got no response. However, when you reemerged from the hallway, you caught his eye and then continued toward the exit. Bradley was in the middle of conversation with Javy about golfing when he suddenly said, "Hey, man, excuse me for a minute."

Bradley pushed his way through the crowd, and once he was back outside in the cool, dark night, he turned and ran toward the steps at the far end of the deck. As soon as his shoes hit the sand, you were reaching out for him.

"Been a while since we did this," you told him, your voice filled with laughter as he backed you up against the deck post.

"Too long," he agreed, letting his lips meet yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It was amazing how kissing you and just touching you made him feel so good inside. The feel of your kisses was a comfort that he knew by heart, and every curve of your body fit his hands perfectly. His fingers were inside your shirt, his thumbs gliding along your ribs and up to your bra.

You moaned into his mouth, pressing up on your toes and pulling him closer. When he broke the kiss to breathe, you whispered, "I have my period though."

"I know. Just wanted to make out with my fucking hot ass wife. Penny made me nostalgic."

His rough hands were on your lower back, and your head was tipped against the post. Bradley worked his lips along your neck, collar bones and cleavage as you said, "This feels just as good as the first time. Maybe better."

"Definitely better," he murmured. "You're in love with me now."

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

You had no shame. Your outfit was a wrinkled mess, and your lips were puffy when you returned to the pool table some thirty minutes later. Bradley's hair looked like he'd been outside during a natural disaster, and Penny smirked at him when he got two more beers.

But it didn't matter, because you were so happy. So you let the guys pick on Bradley while you laughed into your beer bottle. And when you got home, you let him lure you into the shower to have sex at one in the morning where he made you cum so hard, your echoing voice scared Tramp. And maybe the sex was better when you weren't trying so hard to get pregnant. And maybe listening to him read his notebook to you every night was doing more than you originally thought.

When you got to work on Monday morning, Bickel was waiting for your help with his most time sensitive projects. "Your ideas are always so refreshing, Lieutenant Commander."

And when you sat in the lab all afternoon, Cat came over at one point and simply said, "You were right about Jake."

And then Bradley met you for thirty minutes where he got to meet Dr. Genevieve. You told her that you were having a good day even though you got your period, and the three of you just chatted a little bit.

But you should have known that by the end of the week, you'd be feeling a little different. You were at home on Friday, already lounging on the couch and looking at vacation destinations for your first anniversary in November when Bradley walked in holding two envelopes.

"We need to talk."

You popped up on the couch and eyed him carefully. "About what?"

"Two things." He struggled out of his boots at the front door as he said, "Admiral Dean's court-martial has a date scheduled. And there's also an upcoming special detachment."

The court appearance for Dean and Slayer was something you figured would be happening soon. But a special detachment? You weren't sure if you were ready to hear about it. "Just tell me."

Bradley dropped down on the couch next to you and gave you a quick kiss. "June 9th," he said, handing you the first envelope. You scanned along, reading the dates and times, and sure enough, Bradley would have to appear in full dress uniform in court that day.

"Okay," you murmured, "now tell me about the detachment."

He kissed you again and then again, and you realized he seemed a lot more antsy about this bit of information. "Here." He placed the second envelope in your hand, but the paperwork had almost no information on it. And you were surprised to see that it had a classification code above what you were currently privy to.

"This tells me nothing, Roo."

"I realize that," he replied, running his hands through his hair. "It's something top secret. I wouldn't get any of the details unless I'm selected." He turned to look at you with his elbows propped on his knees and his forehead cupped in one hand. "But, Baby Girl... I really want to do this. I think I kind of need to."

And you understood exactly what he meant without him elaborating further. He still thought he needed to prove himself after being named the spare by Admiral Dean, and this was probably the kind of mission that would get his head on straight again and bring back his confidence. But this was also the kind of mission that would leave you at home, alone and worried. Because if he wasn't one hundred percent in the right head space, it could spell disaster. 'Top secret' meant highly dangerous. But it also meant only the most skilled pilots and weapons systems officers would be chosen to participate.

You swallowed down your fear and nudged his bicep until he leaned back and welcomed you onto his lap. "If you want to do it, then I hope you get chosen." You hated that your voice shook and tears filled your eyes, because you wanted to be encouraging for him.

"Come here," he whispered gently, and you sobbed quietly as he held you in his arms. "It'll be okay. I might not even get selected. But if I do, it'll still be okay."

"I know," you said, sucking in a deep breath. You hated that his confidence had been shaken in this way, but he was among the best, and you were already sure he'd be going. You could feel it in your bones.

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

I'm hoping Dean and Slayer get what they deserve. And also up next, Roo and BG visit a new bar they've never been to before with an agenda they've never indulged in before. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@backinwonderl4nd

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

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

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@pieceuvmind

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

519 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

@websterss who’d have thought 3 ghosts and teenage girl would bring us together 💛

idk it just feels so good when you realize a fandom friend has become ur friend friend—y’know? like instead of only talking about ur common interest u start branching out and talking to each other about your lives, your other hobbies, and it’s even cooler to remain close if one or both of you lose interest in the fandom you met in. your bond, no longer dependent on the mutual love you had for some thing—now lies upon the kinship you’ve built. i think that’s beautiful

61K notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

Immaculate. Beautiful. Wonderful.

I don’t even wants kids and it gave me baby fever. But I mean it’s impossible to not a mild case when it’s Jake (let’s be real Glen) is holding a baby.

No chance to reject it 🥲

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to work up the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship.

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts.

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills.

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up.

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along.

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually.

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response.

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds.

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request.

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?"

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him.

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?"

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries.

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm.

"And what?" Jake asks.

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail."

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson.

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you.

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead.

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste.

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

"Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson.

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes."

"Now, darling," Jake drawls.

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured.

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."

"How is that fair?"

"It's fair because he is my godson."

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?"

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?"

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling.

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on."

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face.

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though.

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need.

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil.

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over.

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit,"

"You were really great with him today."

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic.

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking.

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly.

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?"

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake."

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately.

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke."

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends."

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous.

"I'm sorry, Dolly."

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?"

"What?"

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone.

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe."

"I could help you find someone," he offers.

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you."

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out."

"No —"

"Harvard—"

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument.

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends."

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack.

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher.

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide.

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go."

"We have to," you insist.

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option."

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now."

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you.

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace.

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?"

"I thought so."

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not."

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow."

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway.

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door.

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened.

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship."

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns.

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy."

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs.

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him.

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath.

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first."

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much.

"May I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more.

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it.

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again.

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling.

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead.

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight."

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner.

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours.

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you.

"You didn't?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion.

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans.

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way."

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby."

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage.

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you."

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross."

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?"

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —"

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid.

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly.

"Then why are you all the way over there?"

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself."

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are.

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him.

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly.

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?"

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours."

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed.

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is.

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch.

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you.

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like.

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body.

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin.

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?"

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips.

"I want to. Do you not want me to?"

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out.

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing."

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you.

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

"I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter.

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?"

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well.

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby."

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about.

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though.

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present.

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard.

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes.

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously.

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises.

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you.

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too.

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this.

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time.

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily.

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out.

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him.

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you.

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you."

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?"

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly.

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more.

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm.

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him.

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak.

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?"

"Do you?" You wonder.

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him.

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry."

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby."

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you.

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin.

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?"

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation.

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back.

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile.

"Hey baby," he whispers.

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together.

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand.

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention.

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved."

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow."

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better.

2K notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

That’s a cruel but very satisfying cliffhanger. How is it that both you and @roosterforme for can create stories that waiting for each part feels like both weeks but also just hours at the same time??

Can’t wait for the next part!

Snowed In || Saturday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.2K

Masterlist here; Part one aka Friday here

You had spent seven years trying to reinvent yourself after college. Almost exactly three thousand miles between you and Stanford, and yet the ghost of who you had been haunted you.

The funny best friend. The sidekick. The mousy girl in class. The overachiever. The one who wasn’t invited to parties.

You had moved to New York after graduation and taken a job with a small newspaper, working your way up. Along the way you had gotten a haircut, figured out how to apply makeup with a wet beauty blender, how to dress for your small frame. You had traveled at every opportunity, made friends with people across the city, dated a hedge fund analyst and a bee farmer and a NYU professor. You had done everything you had wanted to do and more.

But when you laid down to sleep at night, or first thing in the morning, all of that change escaped you. And your mind immediately flitted to the version of yourself that you had once been but no longer were.

The girl Jake Seresin had known and loathed.

***

The day was bright. Blinding. You groaned, rolling over, taking the covers with you, trying to shield your papery eyelids from the light streaming through the blinds.

It was no use. You groaned, eyes flying open.

Jake.

For a split second you had forgotten that not ten feet away, Jake Seresin was hypothetically asleep on your couch.

Slowly, you sat up, peering over the edge of the couch. But it was empty. The pillow and comforter that you had laid out the night before folded neatly and set in the corner. You frowned. And then the sound of the tap in the bathroom caught your attention. A moment later it stopped and Jake emerged from the bathroom into the hallway, wearing a pair of joggers and a fresh shirt, hair damp. He smiled. “Hey Finn.”

That was it. Like he had forgotten how the two of you had left it the night before.

“I made coffee. Hope that’s OK. But you don’t really have much else,” he said, sitting down on the ottoman.

“Ugh, yeah, I meant to go to the store, but I never did.”

Jake shrugged. “I think that’s our only option at this point.”

You stood up, the pant legs of your silky pajamas pooling onto the cold hardwood floor as you crossed the room and placed one hand on the window. It was frosty. Blinding white from all the snow swirling in every direction. It made the air practically opaque. “Not it,” you replied, turning around with one finger pressed to the tip of your nose.

Jake laughed. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go.”

You grinned. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be all bad. “You can go later if you want. I’m not a big breakfast person, anyway.”

“Later is good.” Jake sat on the edge of the couch. “Listen, Finn. About last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted and Jake’s eyes widened.

He laughed. A surprised chortle. “Jesus. Never thought I’d hear Ella Finnley apologize.”

“People change, Seresin.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

You looked him up and down. You had rarely thought of Jake Seresin in the almost ten years since the two of you graduated from Stanford. But when he did pop into your mind, it was almost always at the most random of times, triggered by a memory. The smell of a particular flavor of vodka that you remembered drinking at his fraternity house, or if someone on the street passed with a distinct Texas accent. The years had dulled your impression of him, coated him in a sepia film in your memory that automatically paired Jake Seresin with dickwad.

Maybe, just maybe, you had been wrong. Or perhaps he had done what you had tried to do.

Had he actually, fundamentally, changed for the better?

“I’m going to shower,” you said, hooking one finger over your shoulder.

“I’ll be here,” Jake said, looking around the studio apartment. The warm water helped wake you up, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the way Jake had looked when he said he had changed from your mind. There was something there that he had never embodied before. At least, not the Jake you had known.

You turned off the tap, wrapping up in a white towel and sitting down on the edge of the tub, grabbing your phone and dialing a phone number you hadn’t touched in ages.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Suze,” you said, smiling.

On the other end of the line, Suzannah whopped. “Ellie! Oh my God, it’s been forever! How are you?”

“I’m good,” you whispered, trying not to be too loud. “Listen, I have a question for you.”

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I, um, Jake Seresin called me.”

There was a pause. Then, “Why?”

You sighed. “He, um, he asked to stay with me. Guess he was stuck at the airport with the storm that’s coming in.”

Suzannah wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. She had an opinion about everything, from the color of your nails to the best way to load a dishwasher to why Santorini is only for tourists. So silence from Suzannah was telling.

“Suze?” you asked softly.

“I’m here,” she said after a moment. “What did you tell him?”

“He’s in my living room.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“The bathroom. Hiding.”

She laughed. “You fucking idiot.”

“Tell me why you guys broke up again.”

“Ellie,” she sighed. “You of all people know.”

You did. Jake had slept with not one but two of Suzannah’s sorority sisters while the two of them were on a break. But break in the Ross and Rachel definition of break. As in the two of them had parted ways for no more than three days before Jake had fucked the other girls.

“Why’d you call, Finn?” she asked. “You already made the decision to let him in, obviously. So what are you looking for me to answer?”

“Do you think people can change?” you asked.

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “By people do you mean Jake?”

“Maybe.”

Suzannah sighed. “You’re smart, Finn. Always have been. But you don’t trust people and that’s your fatal flaw. To answer your question, yes, I think Jake always had the ability to change. I don’t date losers, babe, you know that. Even back then.”

I laughed lightly. “God, I miss you Suze.”

“Call more,” she said. “And not just because you’re hiding in your bathroom from my ex-boyfriend.”

“I feel like I’m twenty two again,” you replied. “Afraid to come out of the bathroom because you and Jake were fucking on the couch.”

“Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “You need to go or else he’s going to think you have IBS or something.” Another pause. “Tell me something Finn, and don’t lie to me.”

You sucked in a breath. With Suzannah, you never knew where the conversation was going to go. “OK?”

“Is he still hot?”

You let out a snort. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“That’s what I thought. Damn men for just getting better with age while I look like a sickly Victorian child at the ripe age of twenty nine. Anyways, I love you, call me when you’re no longer a fugitive in your own home.”

“Love you too, Suze.” You ended the call, shivering in the thin towel. When you realized you had left a change of clothes in the main part of the apartment instead of bringing something to the bathroom, you groaned.

Whipping open the door, you scampered down the long wooden hallway, shivering in the cold, rounding the corner on your tiptoes. Something hard hit you as your eyes were turned downward toward the floor. A solid mass smashed against your front and before you realized, you were falling to the ground, a small shriek echoing through the walls of your apartment as you and Jake tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs, his fingers grasping for purchase on whatever he could.

Which just happened to be on your bare ass where your towel rode up.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as the two of you smacked against the floor, your heads thankfully bouncing lightly against the cream colored rug to your left.

Your eyes flew open as something heavy rolled over you, your knee pressing up into Jake’s crotch instinctively as his fingers touched your bare ass.

“Oh my God!” Jake groaned, rolling over you as quickly as he had rolled on top, curling into a ball, hands cradling his crotch.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you shrieked, kneeling next to him, gripping the towel around you with one hand, the other hovering over his pained body. “Did I get you?”

Jake moaned, nodding his head. “Yeah, Finn, you got me.”

You sat back on your heels. “Well you touched my ass so I think we’re even.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his side. “Not even close, babe.”

“Don’t babe me,” you said, standing up, making sure to keep your legs closed under the short towel. “You’re fine.”

Jake grunted, pushing himself to sit as you rifled through the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a tight henley bodysuit. You brushed past him on your way back to the bathroom to change and Jake’s hand reached out, fingers circling your ankle. You gasped, looking down at him. He smirked. “It’s a nice ass.”

“Oh fuck off, Seresin,” you muttered, tugging your ankle from his grip as he chuckled. “Your balls aren’t even sore are they?” you called down the hall.

“Oh, they are!”

“Dick,” you whispered to yourself, shutting the door.

***

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I turn the TV on?”

You scowled. “What happened to independent reading time, Seresin?”

After towelgate, you had emerged into the living room with a plan. To make time go faster, you and Jake would divide the day like elementary school. Breakfast coffee followed by gym class, per Jake’s suggestion, independent reading and a late lunch.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do for gym class when there’s a blizzard outside?” you asked.

Jake shrugged. “Yoga?”

The two of you had struggled through a yoga video that you screencast on your TV, and after Jake had obviously been staring at your ass in downward facing dog you smacked him on the arm.

But an hour into reading and Jake was already calling it quits.

He put his book, a worn copy of Wuthering Heights from your bookshelf, off to the side, kicking up his feet onto the coffee table. “Let’s play a game.”

“Game time isn’t for an hour,” you replied, never taking your eyes off of your book, a new thriller by Ruth Ware. “God, are you sure you have a job? How do you focus on any work?”

“I bounce around a lot,” he said.

“Bounce around jobs a lot?”

“Bounce around projects,” Jake clarified.

You looked up, eyebrows raised. “What are you, a drug dealer?”

“Finn.”

“What?” you asked, eyes flicking back to your book. “You never were great in school.”

“Hey,” Jake cried. “I wasn’t great at Sawyer’s fiction seminar. Doesn’t mean I flunked out of any other class.”

“You flunked out of Sawyer’s fiction?” You laughed. “God, that’s bad.”

“It’s been nine years,” Jake said. “Can’t you let little things go?”

“Nope,” you said, putting your book down. Outside, the snow had slowed so you could finally see through the opaque wall of flurries. “Fine, since you can’t sit still, why don’t you go to the bodega.”

Jake frowned. “What do you need there?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Jake looked around before turning back to face you, eyebrows raised. “A hammer?”

“What the fuck would I need a hammer for?”

“Why are you sending me to the hardware store during a snowstorm?”

You bent in half laughing. “Wait, are you telling me you think a bodega is a hardware store?”

“Well isn’t it?”

“No,” you said, wiping under one eye. “It’s a fucking corner store. Bread, soda, beer. Chopped cheese. Midnight cigarettes.”

“You don’t still smoke, do you?” he asked.

“No, not anymore.”

“Me neither.”

You shook your head, standing up and grabbing your purse, pulling out a card. “Here, take this.”

“No way.” Jake stood, pushing the gold Amex away from him. “I got this.”

“Fine,” you said, sliding the card back into your wallet. “I don’t know, get us stuff to last another two days. Some pasta, maybe. Fruit so we don’t get scurvy.”

“Scurvy in two days,” Jake muttered to himself, shrugging on a jacket, “that’s new information.”

“Vodka,” you said. “And limes. I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with another day of being with you.”

Jake turned toward the door, shaking his head. “Aren’t you a delight, Finn.”

You tried to read while Jake was gone but every little sound in the hallway would make you look up. Finally, after five or so times of that happening, you gave up, setting the book down and sitting on the windowsill overlooking Fifth Ave.

He was gone for a suspiciously long time. So long that at one point you almost pulled out your phone to call him, convinced he had gotten lost, when the doorbell rang. A minute later, you tugged open the door.

Jake was covered in melted snow, huffing and puffing. He had two bags in each hand, and a bouquet of flowers under one arm. You frowned. “Flowers?”

He stepped inside, tracking muddy water into the foyer of the apartment and you grimaced. “For you,” he said and your heart skipped a beat. Jake set down the bags, holding out the bouquet of white roses. “For letting me stay.”

“Jake,” you whispered.

He smiled. “Just take them, Finn,” he said softly. “For once in your life, let me do something for you.”

“Fine,” you replied, taking the flowers and pressing them to your nose. They smelled clean and soft and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had bought you flowers. You headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “Shoes off, Seresin. Stop tracking mud everywhere.”

“I know,” Jake said and he was close, so close behind you that you could feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. “I’m getting something to wipe it up.”

He reached around your body, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser on the counter to your right, his chest brushing against your back before he pulled away. When he did, a rush of cold air hugged you tightly, reinforcing the fact that Jake was gone.

Once all of the groceries were unpacked, you and Jake were settled at the dining room table eating two bodega sandwiches.

“You’re like a kid who was left alone for the weekend, do you know that?”

Jake looped up from his bacon egg and cheese. “What makes you say that?”

“The groceries, Jake,” you replied. “Ice cream, cookie dough, Doritos, mac n cheese boxes? Seriously?”

“I got fruit like you asked,” he said, taking the last bite of his sandwich and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Besides, it’s a snowstorm. Don’t we get a free pass?”

“Free pass for what?”

Jake stood, clearing his plate and your empty one. He smirked. “A free pass to do whatever we want, Ella. Whatever you wouldn’t normally do. Nothing is off the table.”

“I can think of a few things that are.”

***

Jake was better behaved with a full stomach. The two of you wrapped up reading time, and even played a game of Monopoly that you had found buried in your closet. Before long, it started to get dark, the sun sliding below the buildings until the sky was just a dark blanket peppered by the continuous snow.

You flicked the news on. “More snow is expected to fall across parts of Manhattan and the wider Tristate tonight,” the newscaster said. “We could see up to another six inches overnight.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, turning it off as Jake returned with two glasses. He handed one to you. “What is this?”

“Vodka tonic,” he replied and you took a sip. “Since I know you’re trying to get me liquored up so I’ll have to sleep with you.”

You sputtered, vodka spraying out of your mouth as Jake cackled, settling down onto the couch next to you.

“Easy there,” he said, patting your knee, squeezing gently as you wiped at your mouth.

“I think of the two of us, you’re the one that’s easy to get into bed, Seresin,” you murmured. His hand was still resting on your thigh.

“Maybe so,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving yours. “The couch isn’t too comfortable, you were right.”

“You’re not sleeping on the bed with me.”

“What if I beg?”

“Is that your kink? You want to have to beg for sex?”

Jake leaned back, taking a sip of his drink, his hand still hot on your leg. “Sweetheart. I’ve never had to beg a day in my life.”

You crossed your legs, letting his hand slip off. “Never say never, Seresin.”

***

Somewhere between the third and fourth vodka soda was when things started to blur. Jake had brought the bottle out into the living room, along with a pack of tonic waters and a lime on a cutting board. At some point, you kicked off your slippers, tucking your feet up beneath you and Jake did the same, scooting closer on the couch, one arm stretched out over the tufted back.

You leaned forward, reaching for more vodka, sliding a little and Jake’s arm shot out, catching you around the middle, suspending you in midair so you didn’t fall.

Your faces were close together. He was basked in warm light from the candles on the mantle and the soft yellow lamp in the corner. He smelled good and cozy and for a second, you could almost forget that he was Jake Seresin. He was just a really attractive guy in your apartment looking at you like he never wanted to tear his eyes away.

“How on earth are you single, Finn?” Jake asked, his fingers tightening around my side. His green eyes were clear and wide.

You grabbed the vodka bottle, dumping some into my glass, and Jake finally released me. But his knee was pressed against my leg still, warm and inviting. “I don’t like dating,” you said. “Every guy is the same. He’s Midtown East and he has three cell phones or he lives in Fidi and he works twenty hours a day or God forbid he’s from Brooklyn and he wants me to take the L on the weekends. He’s an Upper West side dick whose mother will never approve of me. He’s an Upper East Side prick who would never look my way because I didn’t go to prep school. Or maybe he’s another Stanford alum, but even then I probably won't be good enough for him somehow.”

“How could you not be good enough?” Jake whispered.

“You overestimate me, Jake,” you replied. “And you overestimate the New York dating scene.”

“You’re smart,” he said. “Beautiful. Charming in a really dickish, sarcastic way.” You laughed, head tossed back and Jake’s fingers on the back of the couch tickled your neck. “The whole package, El. Always have been.”

“You didn’t like me in college, Seresin,” you replied. “What made you change your mind?”

“Who said I didn’t like you in college?”

“You did! The way you always gave me shit and how you always avoided me if we were waiting for Suzannah at the same time.”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t hate you. I’ve never disliked you a day in my life, Ella.”

“Then what?” you asked. “Why were you always so weird?”

Jake paused. You watched his jaw tense. He set his cup down on a coaster on the table and stood up abruptly. “We need more liquor.”

You frowned. “What? No, we still have vodka left.”

“Then we need gin.”

“I have gin.”

“OK, tequila.”

“Jake, what are you doing?” But he was already down the hall, pulling on his jacket, sliding into his boots. You scrambled off the couch. “Jake, wait!” But he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stood in shock. What had just happened? After a few minutes, you tugged on a coat and a pair of boots, slipping your keys into your pocket. The hallway was dark and empty, no sign of Jake.

Five floors later, you emerged in the lobby. “Ella!” Gerry the doorman looked up from behind the desk. “How are you sweetheart?”

“Hi Gerry,” you said. “Did, um, did a guy rush out of here a few minutes ago?”

He nodded. “Tall, blond, looks like a total player?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He took a left, toward the park,” Gerry said. “Be safe, sweetheart. He looks like he’d break your heart.”

“He’s just a friend.”

Gerry nodded knowingly. “Friend. OK, doll. You be safe out there, it’s cold as all hell.”

You smiled, bursting through the double glass doors, getting smacked in the face by a gust of air. It burrowed into your skin, freezing you whole and despite the heavy coat your teeth chattered as you took a hard left down Fifth. Washington Square Park was five blocks away, but no way Jake had already made it that far, right?

No one else was out. Who would be so stupid as to go outside at nearly midnight in the middle of the worst blizzard in two decades?

Apparently you. And Jake Seresin.

You scampered across the intersection, crossing tenth street, hurrying as the wind gusted from one side, threatening to toss you into the nonexistent traffic on the avenue going downtown toward the park.

Up ahead, you spotted the familiar Washington Arch that stood at the northern part of the park. Snowflakes dotted your eyelashes and you blinked, pressing them away into liquid, before opening your eyes wide, spotting a familiar head bobbing down the sidewalk. “Jake!” you called out, your voice getting picked up and carried away in the wind. “Jake!”

Beneath your body, your feet scrambled along, pushing you closer.

“Jake!”

The man in the distance stopped and turned. The lights illuminating the arch highlighted him from behind. His jacket was too thin and as you approached you could see it was damp from snow, his hair sticking to his drawn face.

“Seresin,” you said, stepping closer until the two of you were only a few feet apart. “What the fuck? You’re like a shit baby daddy, going out for diapers and never coming back.”

“Get it all out,” he said. “Whatever you think of me, Ella. It’s time to air the dirty laundry.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what’s happening. One second we’re drunk and laughing and the next second you’re fucking running away and forcing me to chase you through a goddamn blizzard.”

“You didn’t have to chase me.”

“You left,” you said quietly. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Let me leave,” Jake said. “If you think I’m such a bad person, what do you care if I stay or not?”

“The real question is why did you hate me so much,” you whispered. “Back in the apartment. I asked why you hated me so much back then. And instead of answering, you made up some bullshit excuse about needing tequila. So answer, Jake. Or I’ll let you turn into an ice sculpture and I’ll sell you to 230 Fifth and their stupid fucking igloo bar as decoration.”

“I don’t hate you, Ella,” Jake said, stepping closer. Even drenched in snow he was warm. A furnace. “I never hated you.”

“So what was it then?” you demanded. “A Mr. Darcy thing? You ignored me and shut me out and gave me shit because you loved me?”

“Maybe.”

“What?” Stunned silence surrounded the two of you. If it was even possible, the snowflakes fell slower. As if they were suspended in the air. It was just you and Jake in the middle of Fifth Avenue in a snowglobe. You looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Did you ever think, Ella, that maybe I called you for a reason?” Jake asked quietly. “That maybe, just maybe, I spent eight years wondering about what had happened to the one girl who had seen me for who I really was and never let me get away with it? That maybe, just maybe, I took your feedback to heart and tried to change. And now I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For this,” Jake said, closing the distance between the two of you and sliding one hand around your neck, tipping your head back, bending down to press his lips to yours.

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @buckysteveloki-me @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 @seresinslady @hookslove1592 @shotclock24seconds @fanficfandomlove @ryebecca @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @t8r-tots

306 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

I’m gonna need a few minutes to digest and recover for this series.

Life After Death // The Daggers

Spin off Series to Bruises

Summary: For some reason you’d never know, yours and Jake personal Heaven becomes a check point for the friends you left behind. One by one the Daggers come through on their way to their forever life after death.

Mini Series Warnings: Main character deaths. Mentions of death. Whump. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Platonic reader x Daggers. Specific warnings will be given in each blurb.

Author Note: These won’t be long but they’ll be worth the read for the angst & reunion. (Coming Soon)

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

-> Oh Chute // Robert Floyd: When Bob’s parachute fails, he gets to catch up with too people he never thought he’d see again. (2.5k)

-> Murder She Wrote // Natasha Trace: Phoenix can’t remember why she has a migraine, until you help her remember.

-> Gift Of The Gab // Bradley Bradshaw: Throat Cancer. It’s never the way Rooster thought he’d go out. But when he does—he gets to give Jake a piece of his mind.

-> Red Light, Green Light // Mickey Garcia: Mickey knows he had the right of way. (2.3.k)

-> Nuts // Reuben Fitch: Packbacks allergic to peanuts, and Jake wasn’t around with that spare EpiPen.

-> It’s Agest // Javy Machado: Coyote should have headed the warnings, but he had other plans.

285 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

Love it 🥰

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.”

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine.

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable.

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you.

“Ella?”

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?”

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered.

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.”

“El, wait!”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.”

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.”

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.”

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians.

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.”

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury.

“Ella? Are you still there?”

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.”

“I owe you, El.”

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin.

You turned on your heel and walked away.

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered.

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on.

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.”

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came.

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open.

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat.

“Jake.”

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.”

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots.

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center.

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway.

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?”

“Four years.”

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?”

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?”

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted.

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.”

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin.

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you.

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room.

This time you were.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?”

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.”

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?”

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.”

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table.

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.”

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand.

“What were you doing in Lebanon?”

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?”

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.”

“Still wildly dependable I see.”

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.”

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?”

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself.

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?”

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?”

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.”

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be.

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead.

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.”

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding.

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.”

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible.

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?”

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.”

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.”

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?”

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.”

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.”

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.”

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?”

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave.

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store.

Never like this.

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence.

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light.

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room.

“Does it matter?” Jake asked.

“Yes.”

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?”

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?”

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered.

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.”

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan.

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.”

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned.

“What, Seresin?” you demanded.

“Take longer,” he complained.

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt.

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie.

“No,” you argued.

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.”

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty.

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table.

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie.

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.”

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.”

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.”

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.”

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?”

“I’ll go after you.”

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?”

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.”

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?”

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.”

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.”

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours.

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Carver. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it.

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach.

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something.

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence.

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator?

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own.

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me @eli2447 @bellaireland1981

253 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 6 months

Text

@desert-fern wasn’t too niche at all!

In fact if you ever write any more WWI/WWII Au for Top Gun hit me up! You can tag this blog or my personal reading one @caitsymichelle13

(Actually any Top Gun fic since it’s established I’m a whore for the pilots 🤣, just ask @websterss)

Ring Around My Rosie - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Nurse Reader (WWII European Theatre AU)

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: The year is 1944 and the Second World War rages on. You have been a nurse in Belgium for nearly three years, having seen the effects of the worst things human beings can do to one another. One day, like always, an injured man is brought in. An American sailor too far from the ocean he came out of on D-Day and you both are entranced.

Warnings: blood, bullet removal, mentions of Nazis (it is a WWII AU so…), probably inaccurate depictions of wartime nursing, most likely factually incorrect WWII history, fluff so fluffy I gave myself a cavity just writing this, 1940s Bradley Bradshaw (yes, he is a warning)

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: If you can’t guess, this oneshot is a WWII AU inspired by a cover of Ed Sheeran’s Nancy Mulligan that I have linked here! I’m 90% I fucked up my Spotify Wrapped for this fic so I hope you enjoy!

===

Well, I met him at Guy's in the second world war

And I was working on a soldier's ward

The scent of blood was thick in your nostrils as you dragged yourself out of the field hospital in Les Annais, Belgium. The Germans had been menacing your location for weeks, baiting your troops and sending fractions limping back into your capable hands.

You knew nothing of the tactics being used, very few did. You were here as a nurse, not as a tactician, not as anyone of note, save for being the longest serving nurse at the 51st Field Hospital. The others had bailed out as soon as they could, doing their duty but the gruesome fighting months earlier at the Battle of the Bulge had sent many fleeing.

It wasn’t like you could blame them.

You were still new, having joined up as soon as you could convince your father and while you were a month shy of 23, you had never experienced anything like this. Your grandmother had told your father off, reminding him that it was his own stubborn streak that raced through you.

But you were unprepared for everything you would have to do out here, hundreds of kilometers away from home, with the least amount of training that they could spare. At the beginning, you could only offer comfort to some of these men, being unable to save them from their wounds, as they cried for their mothers, wives, children, begging for the pain to end.

Sometimes - well, most times - these men were boys your age or younger. Lives that had only just begun were snuffed out in the most violent of ways and you were left to piece together your shattered heart day after day.

So you closed yourself off, choosing to help as many as you could. The conditions were brutal, the wounds you saw even more so. A year and a half ago, you didn’t know how it felt to hold down a screaming man so a doctor could try and save a septic leg. You were a shoulder to cry on, a smiling face despite the bleakness, and more often than not, an object of flirtation and admiration.

The sky was a miserable gray, like it always was. It seemed like the sky was trying to match the color of the tents scattered around the outside of the main camp, doing its best to hide you from the prying eyes of the German aerial patrols.

The Luftwaffe were always around. Luckily for you, they couldn’t aim for shit, but you couldn’t deny that the German movements had been far more frequent. Sometimes a young man crawled through the borders surrendering to the English and American forces and begging for help.

No one else would treat him, refusing to even get close to him.

You had chastised them all, reminding them of their promises to help those in need, and slowly you had gained some help in the care of these young men, though they were few and far between.

Shouts caught your attention, sending you racing through the muddy field back to the hospital. A group of soldiers, Americans by the sound of them, were calling for help and you would be a hypocrite if you didn’t help.

Hurrying through the door ahead of them, you saw a small group, maybe seven or so men approach. They were muddy, beaten and bruised, but your eyes fell upon the man being held up by his compatriots. “What happened?” You asked, quickly replacing a red headed man and half-carried the brunette towards the only open bed in the corner.

“A bunch of Krauts caught us by surprise, caught Rooster here with a few shots and some ass- pardon me ma’am, idiot jumped out of a tree and landed on top of him,” the man explained, helping you lay this Rooster on the bed.

You focused on the brunette’s bloody uniform, eyeballing the few bullet wounds in his arms, but you were the most concerned about the broken leg. It only took one infected wound and that limb would be gone. Not today, you thought. “Dot, I need the suture kit and a basin. You,” you stated, standing up to face the man standing next to you.

“Mulligan, ma’am,” he told you, standing up straighter. “Lewis Mulligan, US Navy.”

“Lewis, can you help me hold him down? I can’t stitch him up and hold him down at the same time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dot hurried over with the makeshift kit, placing it on the bed along with a basin of water. Unbuttoning his shirt, you found that two of the three bullet wounds still had the bullet in them and that the third had begun to clot against his shirt. Pulling the scissors from the pants pocket of your uniform and cutting the shirt away, you finally had a better view at what you were working with. “Fucking Krauts. Guess they must be really desperate to keep using shitty ammunition,” you remarked dryly, dipping a set of tweezers in a basin of cheap spirits.

Lewis didn’t say a word, clearly stunned by your foul language. “Ma’am?”

Sighing, you turned to face him. “Lewis, I need your help holding him down. The longer this takes, the bigger the risk of infection. I can’t do that if you are going to be shocked when I cuss and swear. Can you help me or not?”

He nodded, coming to stand on the other side of the unconscious man. Hands placed on his friend’s shoulder and hip, Lewis gave you a nod and you began.

The bullets were soft and slippery. They slid out of your tweezers more times than you could count, but you made it work, finally prying the two out of his shoulder and side. Lewis wasn’t looking at you, his face green by the time the last bullet clinked into the porcelain tray. “I can take it from here, Mulligan. Go back to your group, tell them…”

“His name is Bradley.”

You gave him a smile. “Tell them Bradley should be okay unless he does something stupid.”

He left you alone, perched on the side of Bradley’s bed, stitching him up. You saw his eyelashes flutter as you finished the last stitch and quickly stood up. If he lunged at you, you had to be standing. Enough men had grabbed at you when they woke up and you had quickly learned not to make that mistake again.

Too many bruises, too many sprains, too many punches thrown.

To your surprise, Bradley let out a groan and his eyes slowly blinked open. That groan turned into a hiss of pain as he tried to sit up. “Stay down,” you said gently, approaching slowly with your hands up. “You’re in a field hospital in Belgium.”

His eyes flicked to you, taking in your bloody uniform and trailing over your face. “The others?” He said in a panicked voice. “Where are the others?”

“Lewis and the redhead are outside, they carried you here. Seven of you came up to us, that’s all I know Bradley.”

A nod. “Thank you Ma’am.” Relief was written all over his face, in the way his eyes fell closed for a moment and his shoulders dropped.

“I just finished stitching up your chest, but I need to look at your leg. Can I do that?”

“Anything for you doll,” Bradley replied with a wink as he tried to lay down. But he winced and you were there, your bloodstained hands firmly holding his shoulders and neck while you guided him back down.

Never had I seen such beauty before

The moment that I saw ya

You moved quickly to treat his leg, finding that thankfully it was just a broken ankle and not somewhere further up. The number of men that had come in with a broken leg and left with one and a half was a number that you didn’t like to think about. It was far too high.

But Bradley wouldn’t be one of them and you couldn’t help but send up a prayer of thanks. The minute he’d opened his eyes, you’d been transfixed by the deep amber of them. A deep brown like the whiskey that was saved for special occasions and sparkled like a polished gun barrel or belt buckle. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen handsome men. Quite the opposite. You saw all kinds of men at their worst. Lots of them lookers, but you hadn’t felt a connection to one until him.

His gaze made it hard to focus as you fumbled with his boot lace, finally undoing it after what felt like hours. The smell still made you recoil a little, even after nearly a year in the nursing corps. Regardless, you still had to do your job. So you worked quickly, removing both boots and socks and compared both sides to assess where the break was.

A soft touch to his foot had him chuckle and you glanced up at him curiously. “Sorry, just ticklish, is all,” Bradley said sheepishly, hand coming up to rub at his mustache.

You gave him a smile before returning to work, splinting his ankle and cleaning the blood, sweat, and mud from his skin. “Better now?” You asked him, tucking a blanket over his body and helping him into a clean-ish shirt.

His eyes met yours and despite being in pain, Bradley shot you a small smile. “Better now that I can see my guardian angel.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one, sailor? More times than you’ve used that line on anyone in stockings.”

Bradley just grinned at your retreating form and let his eyes slip shut. The pain in his body was getting to be too much, but as he dozed off, he found himself listening to your voice as you reprimanded a soldier barely older than yourself for getting out of bed. You intrigued him, that’s all.

He said I was his yellow rose

And we got married wearing borrowed clothes

Weeks had passed since that first interaction and both you and Bradley had been writing to one another as often as you could spare. While in the hospital, you learned that he and his friends had been separated from their landing crew as they made their way inland from the coast. He’d been on Omaha Beach during what had become known as the “D-Day” landing in Normandy.

Not that he’d been allowed to tell you that, but he had anyways, trusting you implicitly. He’d had to leave after nearly a month under your care, but made a promise to come back.

You hoped he would, but neither of you knew what would take place.

The fighting had drawn closer to your hospital as the Allies fought for Belgium, liberating it in 14 days and wrestling it from German hands. There had been some celebration amongst your ranks, but your heart ached for Bradley, praying every night that he came back to you.

For now though, you had to settle for letters. Bradley’s smooth voice seemed to read every letter aloud to you, each word wrapped in that gentle, flirtatious tone he had used every day you had looked after him.

Doll. My darling Rosie, the most recent letter began. They usually started out with some endearment, God knows he had used enough of them as he tried to win you over despite your colleagues warning him that you wouldn’t fall.

You remember Lew? Well he told me that writing to you was a waste because I wouldn’t get any letters back, but I know you. You wrote me back like you always do. Means I’m going to have a nice big stack of letters waiting for me the minute the post catches up with us.

We’re still marching. It’s been hell on my ankle, but you patched me up nice and neat so I’m not too worried. At least the view is nice. I think you would like it where we camped tonight, crickets are chirping now as I write this and it’s peaceful. Kinda like those nights you spent sitting with me when we’d talk about everything and I would always get worried that you would get sick of me jawing and talking your ear off, but you never did. Spoiled me for a good listener. The boys here don’t talk much. Battle fatigue is crawling all over them and it is always quiet around these times cause no one says a word.

It’s awful lonely though, sweetheart. I miss your laugh, especially how you would have to cover it when it was the middle of the night. Closest thing to home I had in a while. I hope you can hear my voice in this letter because I know I hear yours every time. And I mean every word, Doll, I hope you know that.

When I come back, I want to take you somewhere nice. Get you all dressed up in something pretty but you would still be the most beautiful dame I ever saw if you came out in your uniform that I know you are wearing now. Maybe I’ll take you dancing like you talked about, holding you close for song after song and if I’m lucky we would be going steady after that. That kiss on the cheek you gave me before I left is just haunting me because I had a taste of the future, if you feel the same of course.

Call me a flirt, doll, but I’m just sweet on you. I’m doing everything in my power not to go AWOL and come all the way back to find you, but I hope this letter finds you well instead.

Thinking about you, my English rose.

Yours always,

Bradley.

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you carefully folded the letter back up and placed it with the others. They were all like that, yearning to be back here instead of wherever he was, thoughts of the future and he always, always, signed it off with “Thinking of you,” or lately “Yours always.” Every letter gave you hope and while you knew some of yours had likely been delayed, you always jumped up like you’d sat on a tack whenever the post arrived.

Dot had started teasing you the second that Bradley left, but one reminder of Lewis and she too was blushing. The two of you sat in your quiet fear, praying that neither one of you would get a letter from one of their unit mates saying that one or both was gone.

Your next letter went out the same day.

Hopefully, it would all be alright. So for now, you let yourself dream of dancing in Bradley’s arms, Glen Miller playing softly in the background as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Hundreds of miles away, huddled under a thin blanket, Bradley pulled a creased letter from his pocket, finally having the chance to read it. As the letter slid out of the envelope, a sweet smell burst free and filled his nostrils. He recognized your perfume, the scent having filled him with joy every moment he spent by your side as he recovered.

Shifting a little and adjusting the blanket, he opened it up, catching a second page that tried to escape in the sudden breeze. Bradley moved his lantern over and began reading your tight script that had his heart skipping a beat each time he saw it fill a page.

Bradley,

I received another letter from you today and I thought I had best get writing so I don’t miss the post truck. I do remember Lewis. Hopefully he remembers Dot because she is patiently waiting for a response to her letter. I don’t think it matters, the sentiment is still the same and I would rather see you at the end of this harrowing ordeal than have you replay thoughts on paper.

I had been meaning to ask about your ankle. If it ever gives way, splint it like I showed you. I don’t want you to break it again, even if that would mean you have to come back to me. But for the moment, I am glad for your letters. They make me feel closer to you. Describe the view for me, please. I see nothing but muddy fields, canvas walls, and wounded men. Is it raining a lot on your march? I know your boots were ruined when you were brought here. Did you ever find new ones? He had, but the source of them sent his stomach twisting in knots. Pulling boots off a man killed in battle felt savage, like they didn’t matter as a person.

I miss our talks as well. I learned so much about you so quickly and I feel like I know everything about you. I miss the snort you make when you laugh, especially when I told you that the other nurses called me Rosie because I was the only English nurse here. I was worried you would stop breathing some nights the way you clutched your chest as you laughed like you had never heard anything so funny. But I would give anything to see your smile, the one where it reaches your eyes and it seems you swell up with joy. I know there isn’t much time for smiles now but if I could just give you one of mine, I would.

Send my love to the boys with you. War is hard enough without having to deal with loneliness at the same time and you all are in my thoughts and prayers. I miss you terribly and find myself daydreaming of you every spare moment I have, which is not often anymore, but I drift off to sleep with your past letters in my hands and your words in my mind.

Your confessions for after this war sound like heaven. I hadn’t let myself dream too long about what will become of us. We have both heard the stories of wartime romances often enough to know how precarious they can be, but if you have hope, dearest, then so do I. I’ll wear my best dress and you in your uniform, we will be the best dressed pair at the dance hall. Nothing sounds better than dancing close with you. I don’t care how presumptuous it is, the way my heart yearns for your nearness, I can give my answer to your most secret hopes without hesitation.

If you asked, dearest, I would be yours in a heartbeat. So long as you are mine as well. Bradley breathed out a laugh, trying not to wake his comrades. He had been kicking himself ever since he had sent that letter, hoping you felt the same and by the grace of God, you did. I may be English but we aren’t always prim and proper when angered. I could and would write a million pages with barely any thought, but the truck is waiting for me, so I must end this letter here. I hope my words keep you warm in this autumn weather and please, if you can, come back to me.

Stay safe, dearest.

Your Rose

The letter crinkled in his grip as Bradley bit back a wide grin. You were okay. You wanted to go steady. You cared for him. Fuck the war, he though. His doll was waiting for him back in Belgium and not for the first time, he hoped that the war would end for purely selfish reasons. You were waiting and his mama had raised a good boy who never left a woman waiting, he wasn’t going to start now.

The radio in the small hospital crackled as the BBC broadcast announced Germany’s surrender as Russian troops poured into Berlin. Cheers went up amongst the nurses and the men they were caring for, but you knew that the casualties were high on both sides. The United States still fought with Japan in the Pacific, chasing them back towards their island, and you knew that the fighting would go on for a long time.

The only thing? You hadn’t heard from Bradley in months, not since March of this year; 1945. It was now May.

The worry in you grew every day, trying and failing to hide it from Dot and the others around you. It hadn’t affected your work, but it affected nearly everything else. You were hardly sleeping, rereading his letters so often you had them memorized. “Thinking of you” was written in his neat handwriting against the back of your eyelids, and everytime you blinked, you thought of him.

A few days went by since that monumental announcement of the war’s end and some fighting was still happening but Germany’s surrender had a lot of Nazi sympathizers fleeing like rats. But world leaders were acting quickly and you knew that while it would be some time before you would return home to England, it would also not be enough time for Bradley to come back to you here in Les Annais.

So, like always, you went to work. The soldiers around you were still flirtatious, some even outright admitting that they were sweet on you, but you politely told them that you were waiting for your man to come back to you, and that while you were flattered, you just couldn’t.

Sweet smile after sweet smile. Bed bath after bed bath. Infected wound after infected wound. And still, no Bradley.

Then you heard your name shouted from outside. You had been packing your things, having received your letter to head back home, when Dot yelled so loudly you thought a hoard of Nazis were marching toward you. Racing outside dressed in your one non-uniform dress, you saw a Jeep full of men pull up. They too were yelling, and when you ran up, you saw a familiar face not half a meter away.

He was covered in dirt and grime, his hair longer than you had seen and his cheeks were covered in stubble like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but it was still your Bradley in every way that mattered. “Bradley…” you breathed, coming to a stand-still with your hands over your mouth. You stood stock still, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you took him in disbelief. “You’re safe…”

“Hey doll,” the rasp in his tone gave you shivers as you met his eyes. They were still the same color as the whiskey you all had drank the night the war was declared over, the same sparkle twinkling like the stars as he took you in. “Look at you. You look beautiful.” Bradley clambered over Simon, nearly elbowing him in the face in his haste to get out of the Jeep. “Prettiest picture I ever saw.

You blushed, ducking your head a little at his compliment. Bradley’s heart soared as he took you in, marveling at how his imagination had been unable to capture the picture perfect moment of you in that dress. You had lived in his thoughts for months, each letter sending pangs of loneliness through him as each moment without you passed. Now, standing in front of you, your hair curled and dressed like a million bucks, Bradley felt his love for you grow infinitely larger.

“You…” you began, looking up at him, your eyes wide in shock. “You came back, sailor.”

“‘Course I did. What kinda man would I be if I left my best girl waiting.”

Dot and the others were still watching intently, keen on seeing what happened when you both finally let your resolve snap. “Come on Rosie! Give your man a kiss!” Lewis hollered from where he stood with Dot in his arms. “He’s only been dreamin’ about this since forever!”

“Mulligan, I swear to God, shut your fucking yap for one minute,” Bradley yelled back, shifting his focus from you to his friend. “Sorry doll, Dot, shouldn’t have said those words with you around. Can you forgive me?”

Shooting Dot a wink, you caught his hand. “If you kiss me hard enough, sailor, I just might forget the whole thing.” You weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but it was worth it when Bradley’s face lit up.

“Is that right?” He said in a low voice. “Just one kiss?”

You shrugged as your gaze fell from his amber eyes to his lips and back again. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

That was all it took because next you knew, Bradley had picked you up in his arms and let his lips fall against yours, kissing you so soundly your breath left you in a rush. His hands around your waist held you so securely you didn’t fear falling. Your own hands cradled his face, subconsciously brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes.

He set you back on your feet, but his hands didn’t leave your hips. “So, did you forget about it yet?”

Smiling cheekily back at him, you replied “Forget what?” He chuckled and you let your palms slide down his neck to rest on his chest over his heart. “All that being said, dearest, I leave today. And I know you aren’t down yet.”

“We got separated from the Navy landing crew, doll. Kramer sent a telegram to the high ups and they are sending us on leave for a little while. Especially since we weren’t supposed to be in Berlin,” Bradley told you, a big hand running up and down your back. “So as long as I get to port at a reasonable time, I’m still doing my duty.”

“And when is that, Bradley?” Toying with his jacket, you found yourself chewing on your lip in thought.

“Hey.” His gentle tone had you looking up at his face that was filled with compassion. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ve got it in writing and up here,” Bradley told you, tapping his temple. “My mama always said I had a mind like a steel trap.”

You leaned up onto your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m still going to worry, Bradley. I don’t know how not to. But I trust you. If you say you have it, then you do.”

Bradley leaned down to kiss you again, this time the fierceness of the gesture had you gasping against his mouth. “God I love you.”

The world stood still as you looked up at him. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course, Rosie. Unless you have some other beau running around London that I don’t know about.” He paused, looking down at you. “Wait, you don’t have a beau waiting on you, do you?”

Looking shocked, you shook your head. “No. No, I don’t. My sister was the looker of the two of us.”

By now, Lewis and Dot had run off somewhere and the other men traveling with Bradley had scattered throughout the camp offering help to the pretty young nurses still there.

The two of you were alone.

“Come on,” you said, tugging him towards your tent. “I have something to show you.”

“You could lead me off a cliff, Rosie and I’d follow you happily,” Bradley chirped, relishing in the pretty blush that dusted itself across your face. His body hurt from sleeping sitting up, he hadn’t had a shower and probably smelled terrible, yet even just being near him flustered you to no end.

And he loved it. Maybe not as much as he loved you, but how could he deny you? Your grip on his hand tightened as you pulled him to you, your other hand coming to rest on his jaw. “I didn’t want to do this in public, but I’ve been daydreaming about you kissing me like I’m all you have ever wanted, Bradley.”

The words raced through him, excitement building as he let you guide his face to yours. The first gentle touch of your lips to his had him smiling broadly, and he knew that you were smiling just as hard by the way you pulled back just a little. The next attempt went similarly; the two of you too giddy in the other’s nearness to kiss the other properly.

But he made it work, catching your chin and kissing you soundly. The gasp that fell past your lips gave him an opening and he took it, slipping his tongue past your lips.

Bradley had anticipated some kind of resistance, the feeling probably new to you, but he found none as he continued to kiss you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. If anything, you brought in your own fierceness to the gesture, your tongue tangling with his.

When you finally pulled back, cursing your need to breathe real air and not just Bradley’s closeness, you found that his eyes were still screwed shut. “Pinch me,” he breathed out. “This has to be a dream.”

“This is real, dearest,” you replied with a giggle. “Would I lie to you?”

“You promise?” The tone of his voice seemed so young to your ears, reminding you that for all your 25 years, and his 27, he was still too young to have seen everything he likely had seen.

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered open, shining brightly with unshed tears. “Thank God. I don’t know what I would do if I had imagined you.”

“I’d say that you have a very vivid imagination then, dearest,” you replied softly, turning his face back to yours. When he’d looked away, you didn’t know, but you loved the sight of those warm eyes looking down on you and you would do anything to keep them in your life. “Besides, where would I go then? If I weren’t real, as you say.” Your fingers ran along the back of his neck, gently playing with the short curls. That was something else you hadn’t noticed until now; the natural curls that had emerged once his hair had a little length.

“Marry me.”

You froze, shock filling you from head to toe. “I beg your pardon?”

“Marry me, Rosie. I don’t have a ring, hell, I don’t even know if I’m going to have a home when I get back stateside.” The words poured out in a rush, but the emotion in his tone was palpable. This wasn’t just a wartime distraction to him. “All I know is that if I don’t tie you to me, if I don’t make every effort to keep you near, I’ll regret it forever doll.” Bradley’s eyes held nothing but sincerity, truth seeping from every pore as he held you, his big hands pressing you to him.

A deep sigh left your lips, the silence thundering in Bradley’s ears as he waited. You glanced up at him, your eyes misty with tears. “If I say yes,” you began, swallowing thickly. “If I say yes Bradley, you don’t get to leave because this is hard. I would be your wife, and you my husband. We do this together or not at all.” Tears had begun falling and you didn’t know if this was an accumulation of emotion from finally having him close or if it was fear. Fear of being wed and left in a heartbeat.

“Rosie, I would find the Chaplain now if it meant that I could spend the rest of my life with you. I would march to the Pacific now to end this war if it meant I could marry you faster. I fought for us just as much as I fought for my country and my mama would come down from Heaven like a shot if I even so much as thought about leaving you behind.” Bradley had ducked his head down, holding your teary eyes with his own. In the growing darkness, you could barely make out the ring of his honey-coloured iris, but you knew that he meant what he said.

How could he not?

“So, doll. What do ya say, hmm? Feel like being Mrs. Rosie Bradshaw?” The usual humor in his tone returned when he saw the meaning behind his words sink in. You understood him and trusted him deeply, after all he’d come back, hadn’t he? In what world would he do all of this and not mean it, not swear by it? Bradley had taken a step to close the distance between you both for the rest of time, pulled his heart out of his chest and held it out to you.

You met him halfway. “I’ve certainly been called worse, Mr. Bradshaw,” you teased gently, as you toyed with the collar of his jacket. “What makes you think I’ll come running when you call that name?”

“Because I’ll come running if you promise to call me that everyday, Rosie doll.” A giggle broke loose from your chest and the matching smile seemed to split your face in two as you watched Bradley’s face light up once he heard your reaction to yet another sweet name he could drop. “You never did answer my question, doll. Are you gonna leave me standing out in the cold like some sort o’ schmuck or are you gonna let me in to get all the good lovin’ my weary bones need?”

You slapped his chest, cheeks burning under his attention. “My mother raised me to never let a man starve nor grow cold, therefore I believe I ought to marry you, dearest. How else am I to go on living when I have a very handsome sailor practically begging for my hand?” You were still smiling broadly and as you watched your words get processed.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Bradley let out a whoop of joy, grabbing you suddenly before picking you up and twirling you around the yard. “Well dammit all! Rosie said yes!”

Cheers broke out from around the hospital. Nurses and the G.I.s were clapping and whistling in celebration that only got louder when you brought your hands to his face and kissed him so hard you could feel your lips bruise from trying to pour every ounce of feeling into it. “God, I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

Setting you back on your feet, Bradley dipped you over a strong arm, bringing you into another sweet kiss that had you wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself as close as you could to his chest. “So,” Bradley mumbled. “When I find my mama’s ring, it’s yours. She would have loved you, Rosie. My pop too.”

You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I’m certain that they’re very proud of you, Bradley.” The softness of your tone combined with the sincerity filling every word was a shot straight to his heart. Tears sprouted in his eyes and Bradley brought you back up, hugging you tightly.

“I really lucked out, didn’t I? Meeting the most perfect girl this side of the Atlantic.”

A week later, you married Bradley William Edward Bradshaw in a simple ceremony at a small chapel outside London. His mother’s simple diamond and gold ring had slipped into your finger on the voyage across the English Channel while you had been staring out at the ocean around you.

You had scarcely noticed it at first, but when your eyes fell upon it for the first time, you swore that your heart had nearly fallen into your shoes at the sight. Bradley had laughed at your reaction, pulling you close and wrapping you in his arms for the remainder of the journey, all the while watching you trail your eyes over your hand time and time again.

It was all he could do not to press a kiss to your left hand every time he saw the ring catch the light, which was often, especially by lantern and lamp light.

Needless to say, the pair of you were very happy, and while Bradley had been tapped for deployment into the Pacific theater, his ship had only just made port somewhere in Spain before the US detonation of their super weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese emperor had surrendered almost at once and from your position in London, you couldn’t blame them. You had always hated the unnecessary violence, the casualties just because and this was no different. The innocent civilians hadn’t needed to die in such a way as they had, though you couldn’t see a way of changing the course of the war.

But Bradley was safe and on his way home to you. In the end, you couldn’t help those affected by the tragedy any more than you had during the war in Europe. You would be trying to wrap a wound made by a cannonball with a tiny sliver of fabric, so you set about waiting for him to come back to you.

Now though, you needn’t worry as much. You were Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw and he had made many a promise yet never broken a single one. So the mere sight of his form on the dock eased it all.

Today started the rest of your life.

We got eight children now growing old

Five sons and three daughters

She and I went on the run

Don't care about religion

I'm gonna marry the woman I love

Down by the Wexford border

She was Nancy Mulligan

And I was William Sheeran

She took my name and then we were one

Down by the Wexford border

===

A/N: So, I hope your heart has a big ass cavity in it and that you enjoyed the cotton candy level of fluff that I just threw at you! Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for being the best beta reader ever and @sarahsmi13s, I’m sorry for making you sob when I was sharing snippets

Tagging: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @mayhemmanaged @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @roosterforme @@eli2447 @nobody7102 @gigisimsonmars @dcyllom @bobgasm @multifandomlover4life @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

248 notes · View notes