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atinycafe · 10 months

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MEETING HYUNG LINE ATZ 4 THE FIRST TIME — headcanons

pairing: ateez hyung line (psh, khj, jyh, kys) x fem!reader genre: fluff wrd cnt: 4.2k warnings: different aus for each boy, violence + language + annoying man hitting on reader (hwa's part), groping and sexual harassment by creep (yuyu's part) + mention of needles and blood (yeo's part), petnames note: this weirdly took me so long that's why i didn't post my usual tiny drabbles these past days, like i think you can actually see me lose interest in writing this as you go on further and further in the post, but anyway if you like it, feel free to tell me so i can write 4 the maknae line, feel free to request anything, i'll write it 4 u bb, also completely out of context but yeosang's initials are crazy like sir?? masterlist

　　○˳　　　🎭　　　idol!hongjoong x model!reader (1.3k)

you ready yourself for what lies ahead, inhaling soft breaths to steady your nerves. you make a conscious effort not to bite on your acrylic nails, a habit that helps alleviate your stress. standing in a line filled with seasoned models, you find yourself at the forefront.

this marks your first time opening for a catwalk show, and it happens to be for balmain, one of your favorite brands. you can sense the gaze of more experienced mannequins piercing the back of your head, intensifying your desire to disappear completely.

excitement courses through you, but it is overshadowed by overwhelming anxiety. your stomach tightens beneath the long black bodycon dress. the excessively high heels dig uncomfortably into your feet, and the black fur coat feels hot and itchy against your skin. a golden necklace dips between your breasts, accentuating the deep v-cut of your dress.

gazing down at your legs, you can feel the tightness of the dress, accentuating their curves forcefully. the thought of appearing awkward while attempting to strut along the runway plagues your mind. you pout and try to recall the words of your therapist, assuring yourself that everything will be okay, despite your rising anxiety.

the staff begins the final checks on the models, informing you that the show will commence in 10 minutes. everyone nods, preparing themselves. some models ask their personal assistants to double-check their hair and makeup, while others place their healthy smoothies on the large tables at the sides.

you remain still, already prepared, though the weight of the coat on your body feels burdensome. breathing becomes a challenge, but you push through the discomfort. fake it till you make it—perhaps the placebo effect can work in your favor now; you desperately need it.

you all stand behind the grand curtains, the sound of music signaling the beginning of the show. having practiced a new, slightly more sensual catwalk routine for this occasion, you convince yourself that everything will be fine. however, the fuck ass coat… it weighs so heavily upon you.

recognizing your cue, you part the curtains on the first drop of the music. the lights dramatically illuminate your silhouette as you push your anxiety to the back of your mind, casting a seductive smirk toward the audience on either side of the runway.

you start strutting slowly, each step perfectly synchronized with the bass of the song. you know you look good, feeling your hips sway enticingly. yet, you can't help but notice the tightness in your chest and the sudden difficulty in breathing. fuck that damn coat.

quickly contemplating your options, you realize no one is behind you. if you take a dramatic pause, it won't disrupt the flow. and so, you do just that. in the middle of the runway, you come to a halt, gracefully turning on yourself as if putting on a show for the spectators. removing your coat, you reveal the backless dress beneath, flinging the fur onto someone seated in the front row. gasps of astonishment ripple through the crowd, and the camera flashes multiply, blinding you to the identity of the recipient of your 10-kilogram coat—only catching a glimpse of orange hair.

resuming your stride, you are well aware that this impulsive act will likely be splattered across social media for months. you suppress a laugh as you imagine the dramatic edits that will ensue. with the burden of the coat lifted, you finally feel free from the weight that had fueled your anxiety.

having completed the walk flawlessly, you now find yourself in your own small cubicle—a room of your own, courtesy of your friendship with olivier rousteing. seated in a chair, donning simple shorts and a t-shirt, you sip on your americano. your

face is adorned with a white face mask as you stare intently at something on your phone, hugging your knees.

the door creaks open, and you assume it's your assistant finally arriving to inform you that your uber has arrived. pushing against the dressing table, you swivel the rolling chair to face the door, only to be met with a stranger.

both of your mouths hang open in surprise, and you simply gaze at each other in disbelief. you, because you find yourself face-to-face with one of your favorite singers, hongjoong from ateez. and him, because he didn't expect you to look so adorable after witnessing the mature show you put on just thirty minutes ago.

"uhh, can i help you?" you ask, swiftly removing the mask and straightening yourself, coughing softly in awkwardness.

"uh, yeah, you… umm, dropped this earlier," he points to the weighty coat in his grasp, and your jaw drops once more.

you just threw that coat at kim fucking hongjoong. you wish you could disappear.

"oh shit, sorry, i…" you begin to stand up, almost causing the cup of americano in your lap to tumble. but you catch it in the nick of time, your reflexes acting swiftly, even as your embarrassment threatens to engulf you. "did it hurt?" you blurt out in a quick squeak.

did it hurt? did it hurt?? you must be out of your damn mind. what kind of question is that? your face flushes, and the redhead before you can only stare in shock before bursting into laughter.

"shit sorry, 'm not making fun of you, i promise precious," he manages to say in between wheezes, tears forming in his eyes. "no, it didn't. don't worry about me. i'm stronger than i look." you let out an awkward laugh, finding some amusement in the situation as well, and you wipe at your face, feeling exhausted. it's only 9 pm, but you've been at this place since dawn. hongjoong notices the tired smile on your face and straightens up.

"i didn't know who to give it to. i figured since you… uhh, wore it," he trails off, hoping you'd understand that he didn't want to waste your time.

"that's so nice of you, if i were you i would've kept it to be honest," you laugh, finally starting to feel at ease. and he smiles.

he smiles. your brain goes haywire at the sight, and you can't help but make a quick remark, "could i get your autograph?"

he looks at you as if you've just asked him the most improbable thing in the world, and you bite your lip, scolding yourself internally for getting too comfortable. "sorry, you don't have to—"

"no no no, it's alright. i just didn't think you… knew me," now it's your turn to look at him in the same way he did, and you're at a loss for words.

you try to formulate a response, attempting to convey that he's rather daft for being surprised that you recognize him. but before you can speak, your assistant finally enters the room, holding your considerably lighter coat. he eyes hongjoong up and down, and then turns to you, pointing at him discreetly.

"isn't that the guy you keep fangirling over?" your horror-stricken gaze meets your assistant's, while hongjoong hides his face behind the fur coat, muffling his laughter within the material.

your assistant fails to read the room and continues, "anyway, your uber's there. come

out whenever you're ready, but make it quick, guys." he gives both of you a knowing look, and you stare back in a mix of confusion and disbelief. he places your brown coat on the chair next to hongjoong and closes the door behind him as he exits.

"sorry about him, man. he's weird. don't mind him," you start, tossing the empty cup of americano into the trash along with the face mask you had worn. as you reach for your brown clothing, you pass by hongjoong, noticing how his eyes follow you, his smile never fading. his cologne wafts around him, but you resist the urge to inhale deeply. while putting on your coat, hongjoong finally smirks.

"i'll give you my autograph next time i see you, along with that coat. in exchange, give me your number."

○˳　　　🏍️　　　gangster!seonghwa x chaebol!reader (0.9k)

you're chilling in the vip section of one of seoul's most famous clubs. having a blast with your girlfriends, clinking glasses, and laughing uproariously. everyone around recognizes you as the daughter of a prominent politician, shamelessly having a good time with other influential figures' daughters, but they mind their own business.

you feel the judgmental gazes on you, but you try to ignore them, not wanting to let them ruin your night. your father wasn't the best person, openly feasting on the public's taxes. he was awful both in public and private. you're relieved he's a deadbeat dad, with his messed up personality, you don't have to deal with him.

you'd rather spend his ill-gotten money on clubbing and shopping, reclaiming a small piece of what he's taken from the nation. it might be foolish, but hey, you're just a young girl. what else can you do?

your thoughts are interrupted when one of your girls grabs your arm, slurring about wanting to dance. you both giggle as her words come out in slow motion. you stand up, letting her lead you onto the dance floor.

you move to the beat, her body pressed against your back, her hands caressing your bare waist as yours wave in the air. she leans in, her nose brushing against your hoop earring, and she shouts over the loud music about a guy who keeps checking you out. you turn to her, silently asking "where?" and she points behind you.

you pivot, following her gesture, and lock eyes with a man sitting in a vip section similar to yours. he's at the edge of a circular seat, accompanied by seven other guys. as his gaze meets yours, he smirks, the club's lasers reflecting off the grills in his mouth. you flash a smile, then turn away, acting unfazed. your friend catches on, throwing her head back in laughter as she teasingly grabs a handful of your ass. both of you erupt in fits of giggles, behaving like immature high school students.

the night carries on, and you grow tired of dancing. the other girls have joined you on the dance floor, so you leave them and head to the bar. you ask the bartender for a glass of water, hoping to refresh yourself a bit. suddenly, you feel a large hand on the small of your back. you smile, assuming it's the stranger from earlier, but when you turn around, your smile fades. it's some random guy, much older, and you recoil in disgust, smoothing over the spot he touched with your palm.

"ew, back off. not interested," you say dismissively, not even bothering to look at him. you shift your focus to the bartender, who gives you a sympathetic smile. he places the glass of water in front of you and goes off to clean other glasses.

the man, who still hasn't budged from behind you, snatches your drink and takes a sip. you look at him, utterly shocked, thinking, "what the fuck does he think he's doing?" he carelessly drops the cup right next to your hand on the table, causing the water to splash onto your fingers, making you flinch.

"water? nah, let me get you something good, babe. what do you want? i can get you anything," he yells at the bartender, who gives you a questioning look. you shake your head in refusal. when the guy sees that you both ignore him, he starts getting agitated.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" he snaps at you. funny, you were thinking the same thing. "you think you're better than me or something? i know who you are, you bitch. just because your daddy's th—"

before he can finish his sentence, his head slams onto the table, and he crumples to the floor, leaving a streak of blood where his nose hit the wood. you turn to the person who just knocked him out.

"seonghwa, nice to meet you, pretty. sorry about him. he won't bother you anymore," he says calmly as he takes a seat next to you, motioning for someone to remove the unconscious body. you stare at him in astonishment before taking a sip of your water, letting the cool liquid calm you down.

he signals the bartender, who swiftly approaches, discussing a glass on the rocks. the older man nods unsteadily. taking advantage of the moment, you let your eyes wander over his face. he's attractive, but that's not what catches your attention. the dragon tattoo peeks out from his shirt, extending along the side of his neck. it's the symbol of the notorious gang and, surprisingly, the owners of the club you're in.

"you often handle paying patrons like that?" you inquire, taking another sip of your water and gazing straight ahead.

now it's his turn to feel your gaze on his profile, and you can hear his chuckle. "i only do that to the ones who scare the highest-paying patrons," he cleverly replies, alluding to your wealthy background. you roll your eyes and turn to face him, resting your elbows on the table and propping your cheek on your fists.

"'m not paying for my water, you are," you state, and he laughs, mimicking your posture by resting his cheek on his hand.

"am i now? and why would i do that, pretty?" he smirks. you can now see the details of his grills more clearly, small diamonds adorning the silver jewelry, and you smirk right back at him. a few strands of hair fall across your face as your body shakes with laughter.

"'cause you got a crush on me," you drawl out the last word, your smile widening, your cheeks starting to hurt. he moves one hand to your face, gently brushing the hair away with a feather-light touch, and chuckles softly.

"such a smart girl."

　　○˳　　　🚟　　　student!yunho x student!reader (0.8k)

you gaze down at the subway floor beneath your feet, gripping your eyes tightly. the train compartment is packed to the brim, the morning rush causing people to scramble and squeeze together. however, you're well aware that the hand grazing against your skirt is no accidental result of the cramped space.

clenching your fists, you lean your forehead against the windowpane of the door ahead, seeking solace in the cold surface. a scream wells up within you, the desire to make a scene overwhelming, but this is the first time such a thing has happened to you. frozen, you're unable to react.

your eyes sting with tears, and you attempt to hold them back, but they refuse to be contained. small droplets trickle down your cheeks, and you gently brush them away with the sleeves of your uniform.

suddenly, the subway screeches to a halt, reaching a new station before the doors slide open in front of you. you lower your gaze to the floor, your hair partially obscuring your face, and you notice only one pair of jordan 4 sneakers and a pair of pants resembling the ones worn by boys in your school. your curiosity leads you to glance up swiftly, and there stands one of the tallest boys you've ever seen. he's a stranger, someone you've never crossed paths with before, but you surmise he must be a new student at your school, given the familiar uniform.

he stares at your face, taking note of the tear tracks on your cheeks, then casts a quick glance behind you, piercing through the person who has been violating your boundaries for the past five minutes. in an instant, he connects the dots, understanding the situation, and his expression changes from shock to anger.

he steps into the train, forcefully grabbing the man behind you before hurling him out with a powerful throw. the man lands on his rear with a grunt, and before he can utter a word, the doors seal shut.

you have no time to react as more people flood in through the other subway doors, inadvertently pushing against your body. almost losing your balance, the boy behind you grabs your forearm, turning you around and gently pressing you against the door. his hands shield you from the surrounding crowd, his larger and stronger frame providing protection.

you can only gaze up at him, fear evident in your wide eyes, while he looks down at the others around him, his face reflecting displeasure as people jostle against him. eventually, he looks back at you, and his expression softens.

"sorry for touching you like that," he whispers, and you feel a tug at your heart, strangely soothed by his voice despite his recent shoving and pushing.

"like what?" you respond softly, perplexed because he has nothing to apologize for; in fact, he did the complete opposite by helping you fend off the harasser.

he simply gestures toward your forearm with his long finger, not even making contact, alluding to the moment he turned you to face him.

"oh," you glance down at your arm, "'s alright," you say awkwardly.

silence hangs between the two of you. you try not to dwell on how close he is to you, but this time, the proximity doesn't make you uncomfortable. while yunho gazes upward, deliberately avoiding meeting your eyes, he can't help but notice their beauty—the way they shine so brightly with tears—making him feel breathless, as though he could suffocate if he stares for too long, forgetting to breathe.

"by the way, thank you for, umm…" you finally manage to speak, still unable to meet his gaze as his eyes find their way back to you, "you know, yeah, thanks."

he's about to reply, insisting it was nothing, when the door behind you opens. a gasp escapes your lips as you begin to lose your balance, but his hand instinctively reaches out, pulling you closer and helping you regain stability.

he tries to create distance between you, but the stream of people surging in from behind prevents it. the next station is even more crowded than the previous, as it draws nearer to downtown. pressed tightly against his chest, your left cheek resting against his pec, you can hear his heartbeat quicken. the closeness causes his ears and neck to turn bright red.

once both of you step out of the subway, finally arriving at the station that leads to your school, you release a weary sigh simultaneously. at the sound, you look at each other and share a soft chuckle.

walking in the same direction, you have a feeling that getting this close to yunho won't be a one-time occurrence.

　　○˳　　　💉　　　doctor!yeosang x patient!reader (1.2k)

"so, how did that happen?" yeosang mumbles as he checks out the open gash on your hairline, his gloved hands carefully examining the wound. you wince in pain when he applies a bit too much pressure, and he gives you an apologetic look before returning to his seat, tossing the gloves into the tiny trash can beside him.

you're in one of the er rooms, sitting on the examination table, and you're grateful for the blood smeared on your face, hiding the blush you can't help but feel around the cute doctor. you nervously bite your lip, and he notices, reaching out with his thumb to release your poor lip from the clutches of your teeth. you don't overthink the gesture; after all, he's a doctor who doesn't want you to cause another injury to your face.

raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, he expects an answer to his previous question. you fiddle with your fingers, trying to come up with a response that won't embarrass you. eventually, you let your shoulders slump in defeat and clear your throat.

"my friend, uh, told me a joke, and it made my stomach hurt. i clutched my stomach," you explain, and he nods along, ensuring he follows the story. "but then, when i bent down too fast, i ended up smacking my head on the glass table and, umm, breaking it…"

he hides his face behind his palm, scribbling something in the paper placed in your folder. you can tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he's laughing. he mumbles something about how the joke must've been really funny.

you offer a shaky smile as he explains the next steps you'll need to take at home. he mentions that you won't require sutures since he doesn't want any obvious scarring, which is a relief because you're not exactly fond of needles. he continues talking about the medications and creams you'll need to apply to your face every night and day for the next month. you agree with a soft nod, feeling the throbbing headache intensify with each movement.

he hands you a prescription paper, and as you reach for it, you nearly stumble, experiencing the same dizziness that preceded fainting. but he catches you in his strong arms with lightning reflexes. you pull back, clutching your head instead, as the headache reaches unbearable levels.

yeosang notices your distress and swiftly guides you back onto the bed, using the gentlest movements. he takes hold of your chin between his fingers and looks into your fluttering eyes as you struggle to keep them open. worry lines crease his forehead as he reaches into his front pocket, retrieving not a pen, but a small flashlight. he shines it in your face, swiftly passing it in front of your eyes to check for dilation.

"you've lost quite a bit of blood," he says, his jaw tensing with concern as he lightly traces the back of his fingers along your cheekbones. "i can't believe i missed that…"

you wave your hand dismissively, whispering that it's okay since you only recently started feeling the effects of the blood loss.

"do you know your blood type? we need to transfuse, sweetheart," he whispers, clicking on his laptop, most likely searching for your blood type in your folder, which isn't available since this is your first visit to this hospital. you don't dwell on the endearment, too focused on recalling your blood type from memory.

"no, sorry, i don't remember," you meekly reply, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. after all, what adult doesn't know their own blood type?

"it's okay," he reassures, turning to you with a soft smile. "i'll take a sample, send it to one of the nurses, and they'll find out for us, okay?"

the question is rhetorical, and you realize it. you don't bother mentioning your fear of needles; it's not that you're scared of them, but you just don't want them penetrating your body.

with wide eyes and clammy hands, you agree with a small nod. yeosang immediately notices your tension. your knee bounces up and down rapidly, and your hands tremble slightly in your lap. he doesn't say anything as he retrieves a disinfected syringe from a small plastic container, along with two tubes.

he brings a chair in front of you and takes a seat, bringing himself down to your level. you gaze at him through your lashes, and yeosang feels his heart skip a beat. he takes a deep breath, then gently holds your hands, rubbing his thumbs softly against your skin. he can feel your rapid heartbeat under his touch and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"hey," he simply says, and you look at him, waiting for more. when no further words come, you respond with a quiet "hey" of your own.

"good, the patient is responsive, not a lifeless body," he smiles crookedly, cracking a joke that brings a smile to your face.

"wow, the patient is even smiling. today must be my lucky day," your smile widens, and he releases your hands. you hadn't realized how grounding his touch had been until it disappeared.

he grabs your arm and places your hand on his lap, palm facing up. he starts tapping the crook of your elbow since you're wearing a t-shirt, trying to locate your veins. when they don't appear, he clucks his tongue and takes hold of your smaller fist in his own, manually making your hand clench while his other hand remains on your forearm, attempting to raise a vein.

you remain silent and still, focusing on his concentrated expression. his eyebrows furrow, and his eyes remain fixed except for the occasional blink. his strong nose defines his face, and you notice the spot where he bites his cheek from inside his mouth. there's a small birthmark next to his eye, shaped like a tiny heart, and you find it endearing.

"enjoying the view?" he smirks, and before you can respond to defend your honor, he grabs the syringe, effectively silencing you. he tears open the packaging, discarding the waste on the table, and approaches your arm.

you flinch when he places a hand on your forearm, and he looks up at you with a gentle smile. however, the sight of the needle next to his face does little to calm you.

"'m gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, can you do that?" he asks, and you nod once, not planning on fixating on the impending puncture. "i'll make it quick, i promise, princess. do you trust me?" once again, you nod, this time thrown off balance by the endearing nickname, which he notices through the quiver of your lips.

"if i asked for your number, would you give it to me?" he shocks you with the question, as he's one of the most beautiful humans you've ever encountered, and here you are, looking like a complete mess with half your face covered in blood and a massive hole in your forehead.

"y-yeah, i would, obviously," you stammer, and he swiftly inserts the needle, hitting the vein accurately—something for which you're internally grateful. instinctively, you glance downward, but he quickly clicks his tongue, drawing your attention back.

"what did we say, eyes on me," he shows off his perfect teeth as he finally removes the needle, carefully transferring its contents into the two small bottles which he pushes aside. "now about this phone number."

413 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 1 year

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hi! could i request something where jake secretly has an older daughter that he had with his high school sweetheart during their senior year and the squad finds out? i just love the idea of jake and his high school girlfriend being married and just as in love now as they were back then

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Things hadn't always been easy with Jake--God, no.

Well, really, things had been downright blissful in the beginning. What were teenagers going to fight about anyway? You two just clicked--you knew you were right for each other.

Then you got pregnant. And for a while, actually, things had been really hard.

Between the fateful night of your graduation when your pregnancy test came back positive and the next eight months of your pregnancy, the two of you fought more than you ever had before. It wasn't just because he was trying to do the responsible thing by asking you to marry him--which, let's be honest; he had planned on doing that long before the positive pregnancy test--and the stress of planning the shotgun wedding you were trying really hard not to call a shotgun wedding. It was the hormones and the academy and the moving cross-country in the middle of a difficult pregnancy and all the growing up the two of you had to do so hastily.

The two of you had bickered here and there--which was bound to happen when you are devoted to someone from the seventh grade forward--but had never fought as passionately as you were while you were pregnant. It was senseless arguments, ones sprinkled in between trainings and morning sickness and job searches and taping boxes.

It wasn't even that the two of you didn't love each other. That's what the most frustrating part of it all was, really; the two of you were stupidly in love. Like the kind of love people really only see on screens, which you would never say out loud (even though you know it's true), and wish for but usually never get.

Everything changed the day Charlotte was born. You went into labor in the middle of an impassioned argument--one that was going precisely nowhere, not that either of you would admit it--and made it to the hospital to settle in comfortably for a very uncomfortable seventeen hours of labor.

Young as you both were, scared (terrified, really) as you both were, exhausted as you both were--everything else in the world melted away when you held that little pink, squirming baby against your chest.

Jake had been a wreck, suddenly realizing how absolutely out of his element he was as a measly 19-year-old with a wife and baby on the way, but had not left your side for even a moment. And when Charlotte, that sweet and loud little thing, finally settled with her chubby cheek against the red skin of your chest--something changed in his body. Already he knew that he loved you--God, he loved you so much. But seeing you there on the hospital bed with your hair plastered to your sweaty head and your cheeks flushed and your eyes swollen from crying, that love suddenly expanded and overwhelmed him. He felt like he was going to positively drown in all that love.

As if you sensed it, you looked up at him with an exhausted sort of awe-struck look. Your eyebrows were raised, your dry lips parted, your cheeks flushed, your eyelashes clumped with tears.

"She's got your big mouth," you had said to him, laughing breathily, cradling her against you.

You were shaking--not just from the sheer effort of pushing that baby into this world, but from the overwhelming amount of love coursing through your veins for that little stranger in your arms.

It had made all the nurses and doctors laugh as they still hustled and bustled around your open legs, but neither you or Jake even noticed them. You were looking up at your husband--who was suddenly not that flirty boy with the sweeping blonde hair that let you put your books in his locker, but a man with tears of pride streaming down his face as he looked down at his newly-expanded family for the first time.

He thought he was going to explode--but instead he just sobbed out a laugh. Then he leaned forward and pressed your damp hair out of your face, bringing his salty lips down on your forehead again and again. His quivering hand pressed against Charlotte's back and God, he loved her so much already. He hadn't even really seen her face for the first time, but he knew she was fucking perfect. He could feel it just under the pads of his fingers, could feel your laughter and your tears beneath his trembling lips.

"No more fightin', angel. I promise. I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin, resting his nose against your temple, sniffing hard. "Don't ever wanna fight with you ever again, okay? Love you too damn much to be arguin' all the time."

"I love you so much," you whispered to him, lips trembling as they pressed against his wet ones, bones aching with tired. "I don't ever wanna fight with you again."

But as he cupped your cheek and nuzzled his nose against yours, peppering kisses all along your tears and flushed skin, you knew that he meant it. No more arguing. You knew something was bound to change, knew it would probably change once Charlotte was born, but you hadn't expected it to be so immediate. But you were radiating love now--so happy you felt like your heart was gonna fall out of your chest.

And the two of you, as devoted to each other and your daughter as you are, kept the promise with a fierceness. No more fighting--you meant it and so did he.

Now that you're used to deployments and special detachments and moving and all the rare beauty that is attached to life as a Naval aviator's wife, everything runs smoothly.

He loves that you still send him a picture of Charlotte every single day while he's not home--something you'd done since his very first deployment when she was a few months old. You never missed a day--like ever, which he still didn't understand the logistics of--and always wrote a paragraph about yours and Charlotte's day.

When she was little, it had been something like:

Today Charlotte and I went to the park. It was that cute little one by our house, the one with all the dogs and food trucks. She's getting really good at holding her head up on her own! And she's not so fussy anymore about tummy time, which is a relief. I got to read a little bit of my book while she napped on the picnic blanket. She wore that sunhat your mama got her (as seen in the attached photo) and laughed at a dog that came to investigate her. She's a big fan of animals--might be something to consider, huh? Right now, she is talking my ear off about you, telling me all about those bedtime stories you read and how your voices are so much better than mine. I get it--I'm obsessed with you, too. We miss you. Gonna go pray at the shrine we made for you, I guess. Get home safe, okay? We love you.

But right now, as Jake sits in The Hard Deck only a few days after the successful Uranium Mission, he's smiling as he scrolls through the emails you'd sent him that he's only just now able to read.

He's nursing a beer, shoulders slumped and lips pulled faintly upwards as he basks in the warm evening sun filtering in through the window. It's noisy as ever all around him--Rooster pounding away on the piano with Maverick right there next to him, Coyote and Fanboy shooting the shit as they play a truly pathetic game of pool, someone being thrown overboard--but everything's white noise when he reads your emails.

Your emails are a little bit different now--especially now that Charlotte is twelve. She's less apt to let you take pictures of her now, going through the make-a-face-at-the-camera phase or just running away at the first sign of your lens facing her. You managed to snap a good one the other day, one where her green eyes are glimmering in the sun as she sips on a lemonade. Jake looks closely at the picture and decides that the two of you are at that little bistro by your house that you like to walk to.

Your daughter's glossy hair is longer than it was when he left and God, if she isn't growing more and more beautiful everyday. She looks just like you. She's got your exuberance and even though he would never say it to you or Charlotte, she's even got the little crinkle between her brows that seems to just pulse when she's frustrated.

He rereads your paragraph again.

Well, good morning to you, Lieutenant Husband. I woke up this morning to your daughter's dog peeing on the rug outside the bathroom. And your daughter thought that was the funniest thing in the world until I made her clean it up! I'm a mean mom, I guess. But I made up for it because we walked down to Frankie's and I let her get the bottomless lemonade. Currently writing this during her fourth bathroom trip. Think we're gonna catch a movie in a little bit and then maybe get some ice cream after. We miss you, baby. Can't wait to hear your voice again. And even though she won't say it, I know Charlotte can't wait to take you up on that beach day you promised her. Be good, stay safe, stay alive, okay? We love you more than anything in the world and you're definitely gonna have to re-potty train Sandy when you come home!

He missed you two more than anything in the world. But what he missed the most was just the domesticity the two of you had blissfully settled into. What he wouldn't give to wake up to Sandy peeing on the rug outside the bathroom, to back you up when Charlotte groaned about having to clean it up, to walk down to Frankie's with the two of you and tease Charlotte for using the bathroom so many times, to go see whatever stupid Kristen Stewart movie is playing, to eat a cone of mint chip ice cream and take the long way home. He ached for it, really--even if he knew there was only a few more days until he'd be back in it.

He could hardly wait.

"Who's the teeny-bopper?"

Jake nearly jumps out of his skin, jerking back against the wooden booth and snapping up to look up at the squadron that has suddenly gathered all around him. It's Payback that's asked, his eyebrow perched as he leans in to get a closer look at Charlotte.

"God, she looks just like you," Phoenix adds, narrowing her eyes on what is essentially Hangman's mouth and nose on a much smaller face. "Younger sister?"

Everyone's staring at Jake now.

It isn't even that he's been hiding the two of you--he loves showing you off. But it's just that it hasn't come up and quite frankly, they've been a little busy the past few weeks.

Bob's always been good at reading people--so when he studies the photograph and then studies the redness in Hangman's cheeks and the way he wets his tongue nervously, Bob knows. Bob knows before anyone else--besides Maverick and Coyote, that is.

"How's my niece?" Coyote asks, clapping Jake on the shoulder with a sly grin.

Jake sighs, shaking his head softly at Javy before submitting to it all--thrusting his phone forward to let the squadron read your email and look at the picture of Charlotte.

"Niece? No way," Fanboy exclaims, brows furrowed. "No way."

But now Rooster is holding the phone, his mouth agape, zooming in on Charlotte's face and it is suddenly undeniable to everyone there--that is absolutely the spawn of Jake Seresin. Right down to the dimples and the green eyes, that is his daughter.

"Charlotte," Jake says softly, trying to choke down all that pride that is inching its way up his throat. "She's twelve. And she's the best person that's ever lived, obviously."

Phoenix would've snorted if she hadn't been so totally awe-struck.

"You taking all the credit for that?" Rooster quips, shooting a playful smirk Jake's way.

But Jake just holds his hands up in surrender, sighing as he shakes his head.

"I'll give that to the wife," he says fondly. "She's also the best person that's ever lived. Better than all of you combined."

Coyote takes a sip of his own beer before nodding.

"Oh, absolutely," he agrees at once. "That woman's a saint for putting up with you and raising that Hellion."

Javy's joking of course--he'd actually never seen a more communicative, loving relationship than yours and Jake's. And he'd never met such a well-rounded girl as Charlotte. She had a good head on her shoulders, put there by her parents. Javy was even sure that Charlotte knew more than he did already and she hadn't even finished middle school.

"A wife, too?" Bob asks softly, smiling as he reads your email.

"And a dog," Fanboy adds softly, scanning over your paragraph.

Jake hums, nodding, trying not to look too pathetically in love with you. Even though he is, in fact, pathetically in love with you.

"Going on thirteen years," Jake says. "Thirteen happy years."

And everyone knows that he means it, especially when he just glances back at his phone in Rooster's hands and smiles softly to himself. He is thoroughly in love with you and with your daughter--Hell, he just loves your shared life. He's itching to go home, even if a poorly house-trained dog is waiting for him.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Phoenix says, bumping him with her eyebrows furrowed.

"And when can we meet them?" Payback adds.

Jake is grinning now--just the prospect of his Navy family meeting his real family makes affection swarm his heart. He shrugs.

"Maybe we could figure something out before everyone has to go. I'm sure we can get Charlotte out of school for a couple of days. Family's a good enough reason for me--bet it will be for the wife, too."

He's gushing with pride--he's not even trying to, but he really is. Coyote is used to the way Jake practically glows when he talks about you and Charlotte. Hell, he even gets it. You're beautiful and funny and kind and whip-smart. You hold it down and make it look easy. And Charlotte is a perfect balance of the two of you, striking every single genetic sweet-spot.

"I'm shocked," Rooster says. "You're so...gooey right now."

"Yeah, Bagman," Phoenix says with a smile. "Going all soft on us."

Hangman wants to roll his eyes again. Really, he does. But he just can't. So he takes another sip of his beer, thinks about the way you would be cuddled into him right now and quipping back at Rooster as the two of you watch Charlotte sweetly order her third lemonade from Penny, and shrugs with a grin tugging on his lips.

"I guess I am," he smiles.

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