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magics-neptunes-things · 6 months

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Hi guys!

After the last one, I needed another with fluff and easy love, so this just come from my imagination. I hope you will like it ♥

Resume : Motherhood is hard, especially when your better half is in training camp far from you.

TW : Little Angst, but fluff :)

PART 2 IS HERE!

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Alexia and you met when she was going through one of the worst moments of her life. It was when the footballer made her ACL. For your part, you had graduated as a physiotherapist a few years ago and were looking for a new challenge. When you heard that FC Barcelona were looking for a new physio, you didn’t hesitate to apply. It was hard, but by some miracle, you got the job. The managers didn’t tell you that the job was for the women’s team, but it suited you even better.

A month after you arrived at your post, Alexia began to follow her treatment after her operation. You’ve been assigned as Miss Putellas' special physiotherapist, probably a bit of a probation. You’ve been warned that she might be difficult to handle, her injury having affected her otherwise than physically.

And it was true, in the first few sessions, she barely spoke. She was polite, said hello, thank you, and goodbye. For your part, you remained calm while being empathetic. As you were told, she seemed even more troubled psychologically than physically and you could feel her pain. So you searched about her favorite songs and you made a playlist for her during your massages or during her exercises.

Over time your relationships relaxed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for the time of day when you would have to take care of Alexia. You obviously noticed her beauty and the aura that reigned around her. A friendship and mutual trust was quickly created between you two and she gradually confided to you. On trivial things at first, before your discussions become deeper.

She told you about her father, her family, her fear of not being able to play again and the difficulties she was experiencing with the Spanish Federation. You were shocked to learn what was happening and immediately felt angry. And the first feeling you had was a vital desire to protect Alexia from all this. And the other girls you’re playing with at FC Barcelona as well of course, since you’re the one who plays nurses on the bench at all their matches. But Alexia was coming first.

The first time Alexia could start running on a machine now, you could have cried of joy and relief. She was recovering well, even faster than the best prognosis. And seeing such a sincere smile come back on her face was something really comforting for you. The embrace you exchanged that day gave you chills you still remember.

The day she returned to the team for her first training on the pitch, you were there too, but in the back. Her friends/teammates welcomed her with big smiles and hugs, but at the end of the training she came to you. She once again took you in her arms and whispered a thank you in your ear. No need for long speeches, you knew perfectly well how much this word meant to her.

While you expected this to signal a new distance between the two of you, Alexia surprised you by asking if you were free the same evening to go for a drink. It surprised you, Alexia having the habit of not changing her schedule meal, back to school or bedtime. But when she stuttered "For like, you know, a d- a date?" you couldn't say no.

The rest is history and here you are years later in an healthy, loving et happy relationship. You even got engaged last Christmas.

Alexia always wanted to start a family and your heart melt every time she was interacting with a baby or child. On your second date, she asked you if you wanted children, testifying to the importance she already attached to a future family life between you two. You answered positively, because yes, you wanted to have children and with Alexia would be amazing.

So, a month ago, you welcomed into your lives Santana Eli Putellas. A perfect photocopy of Alexia, even if you were the one pregnant. Thanks to modern methods, you were able to transfer her egg into your body. It was much easier for Alexia’s career, even though she was more attentive to you than ever.

The same eyes, the same mouth, the same hair, the same face, the same look. Even Eli couldn’t figure out which of the two photos was Alexia and Santana when faced with this plot. It’s almost disturbing, but the idea of having created a second perfection in this world suits you perfectly.

Except that even perfection has its difficulties and you realize it more than ever today. For some reason, Santana hasn’t stopped crying since her afternoon nap. Despite her clean diaper, her full stomach, her usual afternoon stroll or her favorite nursery rhymes, you were unable to calm her down. So much so that you couldn’t even answer Alexia’s messages, who went to training camps for the national team.

Even if this camp is held in Barcelona, the team lives in a hotel for a few days, before flying to Canada for their first match. Your lack of answer probably explains why you find yourself having to answer a call from your fiancée after 9pm. You hesitate before answering, your physical state must be scary and Santana is always sobbing on your shoulder. But knowing Alexia’s protective lioness instinct, you’d rather not worry her any longer.

"Hola mi Amor" you try a smile when a frowning Alexia appears on the screen.

"What happened? Why didn't you answer to my text? I was beginning to believe that something serious had happened to you"

"Don't worry, we are fine"

You were still rocking Santana on your shoulder, putting your phone on the counter of your kitchen. After bathing her, you put on her pajamas in the colors of FC Barcelona and she is currently digesting her second bottle of the evening. Whereas normally she takes only one before falling asleep to wake up at midnight and then around 6 am. This baby is really perfect. Except that today something seems wrong.

"Are you sure? You look exausted mi vida"

The concern on Alexia's face is deep and you don't want to worry her. You don't want her to believe that you can't take care of your daughter for a day either. Alexia only left this morning after all.

"We are fine Ale, I pr-"

"Does the best goddaughter in the world make her Mama miserable?"

Mapi’s face suddenly sticks to Alexia's, certainly so that she can also have a glimpse of Santana. Choosing Mapi as godmother was the best idea, the tattooed one being the most adorable with Santana. A chaotic godmother certainly, but you know perfectly well that she too would be ready to take out her claws to defend Santana if necessary.

"Kind of, but everything is under control" you laugh, before realizing that she wasn't listening to you at all, cooing sweat words to Santana. "Did I suddenly become invisible?"

"Not for me" Alexia answer with tenderness in her voice. "I miss you both of you so much, I don't know how I will survive two weeks so far away"

"You will be perfect, as always mi Amor"

She smiles at you, Mapi having a side conversation with your daughter, and you see the concern coming back.

"Can you promise me that you are fine?"

You bite your lip and sight. It was not fair of her to play the sincerity card. She knows that you can't lie to her, even when you want to make her surprise, you have to ask the help of someone.

"Look, she's just having a bad day that's all. Tomorrow will be better."

Alexia opened her mouth to speak and most certainly contradict you, but noise next to her announces the arrival of other people. You smile when you see Ona and Ingrid appear on the screen, Mapi pulling the sleeve of the Norwegian to almost stick her face to the screen ("Look at her, how is she so cute?").

You greet them friendly and discuss with them a few more moments before feeling that Santana starts to agitate again. Before Alexia can see how bad, you tell them you’re going to put her to bed. After promising Alexia to write to her as soon as Santana sleeps, you hang up and gently lift your daughter to put her face up to yours.

"Now that you’ve heard Mama and your Godmother, maybe we can get some rest yeah?"

After a final diaper check, you enter your daughter’s room and sit on her rocking chair. His blanket between you two, a little melody and a lull, it should go well and quickly.

An hour and a half later, you must realize you’re not. Santana continues to struggle with sleep and has begun to cry again. Seeing her like this ended up making you cry. After walking around your house trying to put her to sleep, you went back to her room. You don’t know what to do anymore.

You were thinking about calling Eli or your mother for help when you hear noise on the ground floor. Which shouldn’t happen, since you’re alone in the house with Santana. You listen despite the cries of your daughter and your hear footsteps, making you shiver. Holding your daughter close to your heart, you rush to the kitchen to grab a knife. Putting Santana safely in her crib might have been smarter, but you can’t bring yourself to leave her alone while a danger lurks in the house. The baby stopped crying, like if she understood that something bad is happening.

The noises of footsteps approach the kitchen and panic fades to give way to a cold determination. You have to protect your daughter no matter what. Sticking your back in the fridge, you raise the knife you hold in your hand, ready to hit the figure that enters the room. But...

"Wow! It’s me Baby! It’s me!"

With both hands in the air, Alexia looks at you with wide eyes less than a meter from you.

"Alexia? Wha- what are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering my text again and I... Can you put this knife down please?"

"Oh... Yes, sorry."

You were shaking. The sound of metal that the knife makes when you put it on the marble of the worktop resonates in the room.

"I was too concerned to leave you both alone."

Alexia confesses with almost shyness, certainly fearing that you would take this information badly. You could have, a few hours before. Exhausted from this day, you carefully avoid your girlfriend’s gaze.

"I’m so sorry I scared you. Can I have her?"

Santana started to squirm in your arms and cry again and you gently reach her to Alexia. With a natural ability, the blonde forms a small nest with her arms to accommodate the little body of your daughter. She calms down almost instantly and only then do you realize you have tears in your eyes. After admiring Santana for a few moments, Alexia looks up at you and notices it too.

"Come here" she says, extending her free arm to you.

You cuddle against her, hiding your face in her neck. Her arm squeeze you thigh against her. Her smell helps you to relax and you mumble against her skin.

"I don’t understand what I did wrong today"

"Probably nothing mi Vida. Just like you said, she's just having a bad day. Let me take care of her and go take a hot shower and put on comfortable pajamas, alright?"

You hesitate for a few moments, but Alexia kisses you tenderly before gently pushing you towards your bathroom. You end up obeying, enjoying feeling your muscles relax under the hot water. When you get out, the condensation masked the mirror above the sink. After putting on Alexia’s shorts and t-shirt, you go looking for her in the calm of your home.

She delicately closes the door of Santana’s room when you appear in the corridor.

"Is she asleep?" you ask, incredulous.

Alexia answers with a simple smile and a nod, before taking you into the living room.

"How did you do it?"

"As usual"

Alexia shrugs while smiling and you sighs. That’s what you did, but you are still convinced that Santana simply miss Alexia. You’d rather not say it out loud, though, fearing it would prevent Alexia from focusing on her professional obligations.

"When do you have to go back?"

You try not to pout by asking her the question. It was the deal anyway, you knew very well what could happen when you decided to have a child.

"Not tonight, I informed the coach. I have to be in training tomorrow morning anyway."

The information makes you much too happy, you who promised not to prevent Alexia from following her professional ambitions. But you cannot hide your smile and you stick against her again, in search of affection and tenderness. Accepting your request, Alexia tightens her two arms around you, allowing you to feel perfectly safe.

You stay here for a while, simply taking advantage of the other’s presence. Alexia’s hands play with the tip of your hair while yours fondle her lower back tenderly.

"Did you eat?" you ask her after a few moments.

"No. What about you?"

You pout and Alexia doesn’t need any other words to answer. You just haven’t had time to swallow anything since your breakfast shared with the pretty blonde.

"Let me cook you something. It’s your turn to go put on your pajamas"

You let go of her arms and put a tender kiss on her lips, happy to have her with you when it was absolutely not planned. A few minutes later, you find yourself cooking a fideua, Alexia’s favorite.

Lost in your thoughts, still exhausted from this day, you don't hear Alexia’s steps coming in your direction. You’re too tired to jump when you feel her arms go around your waist, her lips kiss behind your ear making you smile.

"It smells very good mi Vida"

"That’s good because it’s ready"

You tiptoed to grab two plates, paying particular attention not to make too much noise to avoid waking Santana.

"Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch the television?"

Alexia’s proposal surprises you, but you willingly accept. You sit on the couch, letting Alexia settle against you this time. After all, she too is probably tired from her training. Seeing her eat your dish with enthusiasm makes you happy and you find yourself admiring it rather than feeding yourself.

"You're starring"

Alexia smiles and glances at you, making you smile back.

"Perhaps, but it's certainly by admiring you as soon as I have the opportunity that I was able to clone you" you joke softly.

Alexia laughs and puts her plate and cutlery on the coffee table, as you did a few minutes before her. She turns around abruptly before throwing herself into your arms, making you fall over on the couch. Seeing her so spontaneous with you while she tends to constantly master her image makes you melt. And when she puts dozens of kisses all over your face, you can’t help but giggle.

"I guess today’s not the day to tell you I want a big family?"

Her mischievous smile makes you roll your eyes.

"We’ll talk about it in like two years, if you don’t mind."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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missmeinyourbones · 7 months

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sweet L!! congrats on your milestone u deserve it so so much!! for the event, how about “meet me at midnight” and suna :)

MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT (s. rintaro)

a/n: post high school - pre college AU, talks of suna going pro, mutual pining, childhood friends alluded, slight mentions of religious comparison, i need to gargle him in my mouth like mouthwash

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

When your phone vibrates, the sun has long set and the moths outside of your window are flocking to the dim porch light.

And even though you know who it is texting you at this hour, your heart still does that thing—the childish fluttering of excitement and nerves and insecurity all in one. With a deep breath, you let your thumb swipe your screen.

From: Suna ;p

[10:41 PM] meet me at midnight

To: Suna ;p

[10:43 PM] well hello to you too

From: Suna ;p

[10:44 PM] hello [10:44 PM] meet me at midnight

To: Suna ;p

[10:45 PM] that's awfully cryptic of you

From: Suna ;p

[10:47 PM] cryptic enough for you to agree?

To: Suna ;p

[10:48 PM] ... yes

Suna does this a lot.

Both a creature of habit and the night, he loves doing this with you. Texting you when the heavy summer sun goes down and the night sky protects him from the reality of the morning. Nights that were meant to be impromptu, but are now a part of your routines, you find yourself looking forward to his (un)expected texts.

He doesn't give a location, but you don't need one, because the two of you have been meeting at the same quiet spot outside the corner of the town's 24/7 convenience store for months now.

When you arrive in one of his old hoodies and a pair of cartoon pajama pants, he's already waiting for you beneath the store's fluorescent signage.

He looks annoyingly pretty. Neon mirrored lights illuminating his side profile like a painting, eyelashes naturally curled upwards like a goddamn prince.

You almost want to punch him, but when he notices you walking towards him, he shoots you a knowing smile—and suddenly, that feeling of punching him slowly turns into one of kissing him, which is equally as bad.

He doesn't say anything, merely nods beneath his hood and hands you a plastic bag.

You take a peek inside, seeing your usual go-to purchases, and reaching into your hoodie pocket, "Thanks, I think I have a ten in my—"

"Don't want it."

You raise your eyebrows, lazily fighting off the grin that can't help but make its way across your face. But Suna, as always, is more shameless than you—not even bothering to hold back his own proud smile.

"You're paying for my pretzels and orange soda?" your voice comes airy, teasing, and Rintaro skims his tongue over his canine tooth to pretend he doesn't want to swallow the melody like water.

He's equally as playful when he flicks your forehead, "Only the finest for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead."

The night then goes how it always does, and the two of you begin the walk back to your house.

You never understood why it's always this song and dance, but one day, Suna insisted he walk you back. Just to be safe. You remember saying something about that not even making sense, about him walking twice as much for no reason, but he merely shrugged and continued to shove you towards the side of the pavement furthest from the street.

It's nice like this, with the sugar bubbling on your tongue and the humidity of the day dwindling to a nice cool summer night. The slight breeze is refreshing on the back of your neck.

The two of you walk in step with one another, talking about anything and everything—except what's actually on both of your minds.

Because two weeks from today, Rintaro leaves once again to travel across the world with EJP. And it's not the first time, but every time he leaves, you're afraid it will be the last.

Because there has to be a last, there always is.

One day, he's bound to get tired of returning to the small suburban town that holds your withering high school and shitty convenience store and you. He's destined for something bigger than this, olympic and grand and impressive.

It's inevitable that one of these times, he's going to get on a plane and not come back, and you can't even blame him.

Noticing your faraway thoughts, he gently pushes your arm with his shoulder.

"Stop thinking," he says, not needing to be told what you're thinking of.

You shoot him a weak smile before your eyes return to the passing cracks in the pavement and you breathe, "I'm gonna miss this."

Rintaro thinks about saying that there's nothing to miss, that he’s still right here with you, but he knows what you mean and decides to bite his tongue.

"Me too," he eventually sighs, kicking the rock he walks with and seeing how long he can keep it in his stride. "Being honest with you, it's like, the only thing bringing me back here."

Your walking slows, eyebrows furrowing when you ask, "What do you mean?"

Rintaro follows your pace, eventually coming to a stop and turning around in front of you. The two of you stand on the barren sidewalk in the middle of the night, and though the silence is deafening, everything in the moment feels far too loud.

In a wordless battle of who's gonna break first, Rintaro bites the bullet.

"You're really gonna make me say it?" he whispers.

You continue staring at him, and beneath the gaze of your pretty eyes, Rintaro finally allows himself to say what he's been trying to for all these months.

"I've traveled the country, got to see places I didn't even know existed on the other side of the planet. I think I've tried every type of pretzel and shitty orange soda in the world, and then some."

His voice falters a bit when he sees your face slightly fall, getting the wrong impression from his confession.

So naturally, he panics. Pathetically trying to find the correct romantic string of words to tell you everything he feels accurately, what ends up fumbling out of his charismatic mouth is—

"And you think I keep coming back to our shitty hometown for any reason other than you?"

You feel like all of the air has been ripped out of your lungs and the rug swept beneath your feet.

Suna swears that, thanks to some miracle handed to him, you’re laughing and shaking your head. And beneath the summer stars and humming of the streetlights, he decides that your smile is the closest thing he's seen to any kind of good omen or message from above.

And a few weeks from now, you'll learn that irony is a funny thing—because while you were under the impression that this was the last time you'd be seeing Suna for a while, his nervous hand fiddled with his phone in his pocket, the same one he knew to hold two digital plane tickets, instead of one.

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x you #suna fic #suna rintaro fic #suna angst #suna rintaro angst #suna fluff #suna rintaro fluff

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

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Hello! Do you by chance have any proposal fics where Aziraphale is the one doing the proposing? Thank you!

Hi! We have a #proposal tag. Here are some fics where Aziraphale proposes to add to the collection...

Marriage is a Contract by cunzy4 (G)

Aziraphale proposes. Crowley says no.

I've had a thought… by sleeplessocean (G)

One warm day, two immortal beings relax in the cottage they've chosen to settle down in. There's a calm over the place before an angel gets an idea in his head that he can't seem to shake, and he asks what seems to be a pointless question.

Be my husband by candelina (T)

5 times Aziraphale tried to propose to Crowley and 1 time he did it (and he got an unexpected reaction). ~~~ Aziraphale’s plan was to do it in 2041. He and Crowley had been together since 1941, when the angel finally realised two very important things: the demon loved him and his feelings were mutual. A 100th anniversary was indeed a very special occasion and what better moment to ask the love of your life to marry you? It was a perfect plan. Unfortunately, a much bigger Plan had to ruin it all.

Count My Love by aretia (T)

After the not-apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley should be able to be together without fear. But the threat of Aziraphale falling still looms over both of them. Crowley wants to protect Aziraphale from falling at all costs. Aziraphale just wants to ease Crowley’s worries that their relationship is putting him in danger. They both come up with their own solution--switch over to the other side.

First Dates by agent_p_94 (G)

“A date?” said Crowley, pronouncing the word with the same emphasis as one might say, “A triple murder?” “You wanted to talk to me about going on a date?” “Well, yes!” said Aziraphale. “That’s what people in relationships do! Isn’t it?” After three years of post-nonpocalypse togetherness, Aziraphale decides it's high time he and Crowley partake in some Fun Human Activities.

How to Be Your Favorite: The Ultimate Guide based on Harlequin Novels, Self-Help Scams, and Insecure Ramblings by Anonymous (M)

Crowley wants to take the next step in their relationship. What that next step is, he had no idea, but he'll climb every misunderstanding and try every mistake. Aziraphale wonders why Crowley is acting strange, and by strange he means a marriage proposal after taking a seven month vacation. (A series, and yes, I mean a series of misunderstandings that lead to angsty and soft confessions)

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #proposal #mod d

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not-wrong-just-different · 3 months

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Hello Questies!!

This post has been a long time coming, and here it finally is. Willow, and more importantly, the Willow Fandom, changed my life, so, thank you all for everything!

Now Presenting…

How to Get a Girlfriend by Watching Willow 2022:

Step 1. See gif of Kit on top of Jade when she was saying goodbye like on Pinterest.

Step 2. Figure out the name of the show with the hot girls.

Step 3. Rewatch the original Willow.

Step 4. Watch Willow 2022

Step 5. Realize that the feelings about other women that you have been suppressing since you were 17 are coming back to bite you in the ass.

Step 6. Reject compulsory heterosexuality.

Step 7. Call your best friend in a panic.

Step 8. Try for weeks to try to get anyone you know to watch Willow. Fail.

Step 9. Sign back into an old tumblr account and start following people just as obsessed as you are.

Step 10. Read horny fanfic. A LOT of hot horny fanfic.

Step 11. Get your best friend so fed up with you that she invited you to an LGBTQIA+ friendly community event more than an hour away just so she doesn’t have to be the only person hearing about Willow anymore.

Step 12. Make lifelong friends!!

Step 13. After several months of trying to convince people to watch Willow literally steal the TV hookup and force people to watch it.

Step 14. Share the link to the Free Willow website in the Facebook group chat so everyone can watch more episodes.

Step 15. Get private Facebook message from girl wanting to talk about Willow.

Step 16. Make friends with said girl and get a huge crush.

Step 17. Start hanging out outside of group events.

Step 18. Be awkward.

Step 19. Continue to be awkward for several months until one half of the friend group pulls you aside, and one half pulls her aside and endure an intervention.

Step 20. Ask girl on date. (She says yes!!)

Step 21. Go on date and realize that despite the fact that there are over 12 years of university between the two of you, that you both read dozens of the same articles on Reddit and Quora about how to act on a first date, since neither of you have had one before.

Step 22. Get mutually pissed off at the lack of official peer reviewed research on how to have a healthy relationship. Decide to work on writing and publishing together. (So far, the only thing actually peer reviewed is our relationship, which only started due to peer review.)

Step 23. Make plans for more dates.

Step 24. Be happy!!!

Step 25. Realize that communication is hard and misunderstandings suck after reading more horny Willow fanfic.

Step 26. Write 5 page love letter in proper MLA Epistle format and give to girl.

Step 27. Become official girlfriends!

Step 28. Receive photos of her extensive collection of swords and blades.

Step 28b. Implode. (Like seriously. It was SO hot.)

Step 29. After being girlfriends for two months, bring up Willow again and find out that she doesn’t actually care that much about Willow?!?!?!!!! She likes it but was mostly using it as an excuse to talk to you?!?

Step 30. Consider breaking up with girl (not really!!) because she isn’t actually as obsessed with Willow as you are.

Step 31. Decide to share your gratitude with the ongoing Willow fandom for changing your life instead of worrying about making everyone in your life love it as much as you do. 😂

————

Thanks to the creators who helped me work through the emotions of steps 5 and 6 and those who helped with steps 10 and 25. @ksfreckles @geek-and-nina @ourlonelymoon @commanderbuffy @acre-of-wheat @wigster07 @vetiverriver @barmaid-anon @swashbucklery @spybrarian @isabrella @lowkeyed1 @savewillow2022 and so many others!

While I’m at it: Thanks to @ourlonelymoon for reminding me I don’t have to earn help, @acre-of-wheat for helping me remember that being on the spectrum doesn’t make me unloveable (and for reminding me that letter writing is valid communication) @commanderbuffy for proving that love isn’t just for teenagers, @wigster07 for showing second chances and that character growth requires tons of hard work @geek-and-nina for perfectly portraying the emotions and joy of falling in love, and @ksfreckles for being the first person I talked to online and for writing the story that means everything to me.

Thank you Willow Fandom and Willow Creators! I do not know where I would be today if it wasn’t for my lovely, Willow-obsessed online community. 💕 ⚔️ 😉

#willow 2022 #willow disney+

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caxde · 1 year

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closeness | Steve Harrington x reader

summary you're Hopper's daughter and after the events of the Starcourt mall, and him being pressumed dead, you deal with guilt and grieve, for better or worse, your best friend Steve is dealing with the same thing.

word count: 3.9k (first steve fic i post hope u like it)

warnings fem!reader, angst! (kinda a lot I was in a mood), fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, sharing a bed trope, it has some pretty negative self talk and allusion to an anxiety attack...so yeah. english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!!

The nights have been lonely lately.

You did have the option to go far away and escape this town, but when the time came, you were incapable of doing so.

Here, everything reminded, echoed in a way your father. So it came to no surprise that you stayed back, and Jane had left.

And yes, of course saying goodbye hurt like a bitch and opened up all types of wounds that you had stitched together, but, you had to. She would be safer in California, miles and miles away from this god-forsaken town.

And yes, the weather didn’t help. Late November and the cabin was surrounded by snow, cold and quiet. Nothing else but you. Not even the usual chirping of birds that accompanied you throughout spring and autumn were here anymore. So you felt that, alone.

You knew you weren’t actually alone, but having to ask for help or company felt like a chore that you had no energy to complete, so you rested there. In the middle of your living room, with the fire barely hanging on, the T.V turned off, and no lights shining onto you. It’s not like you liked the darkness, or that it didn’t bother you, you just wanted to lay in it and its familiarity. Swallowed by it almost.

No chatty banter with him. Not even the smell of his gross cooking filling the air. You hadn’t cooked in your kitchen for months.

It was expected. Everybody told you that grief is a process and that you can’t rush through it, but… You didn’t feel like that.

You felt as if all the grief that you felt for him was just all the love you still have for him, that you didn’t get to express, or show and don’t know where to really put it now. Robin suggested getting a dog, and you did laugh at the idea, not because you found it ridiculous or weird, but because you were struggling to take care of yourself, how could you ever take care of another living thing?

You were spiraling pretty bad, and you did want to call someone, anyone really. It didn’t matter as long as they could hold you and tell you that you weren’t insane for holding onto hope, or believing that maybe he was really alive, or that it was okay not to be okay, that you would get through it and that you are still deserving of love and affection. But you didn’t want to burden anyone.

Though his name came into your mind.

As a whisper almost.

And as fate had it, the phone started to ring, pulling you away from that circle of self-doubt or self-hate? You weren’t even sure anymore.

So you stand up, pulling yourself together, wiping the tears that started to form in your eyes but hadn’t had the courage to jump out of them. You picked it up, waiting to hear someone’s voice.

“Hello?” Your voice cracked, you hadn’t spoken in what felt like days.

“Hey Hopper, it’s me.” You winced as you heard your father’s last name, but a soft smile contradicted it, it was Steve’s voice after all.

“Hey Steve…” You whispered, really trying to hold yourself together now. “Um… what… what’d you want?” You said as you failed to stop the last tear from dropping.

“I was just checking in… Hadn’t heard from you in a while…” He admits, his voice soft-spoken and calm, you could feel his eyebrows raising and furrowing in his forehead.

“You called me yesterday…” You said, with a chuckle, trying to hide the fact that you were about to break down and cry.

“Yeah, well… Something told me you…” He stopped for a second. Your hand grabbing your cheeks tight, hoping that if you had enough strength you would stop crying and would be able to have a normal conversation, not worrying him. “Hey…” He said softly, with a whisper of a voice. “Were you- are you crying?” That was enough for you to actually fall to your knees, hugging yourself as you crumbled.

“Yeah…” You manage to say, not being able to say anything else, whimpers and fast breathing invading your body.

“Be there in five.” His voice said, not mean, but harsh. Decided, and yes, worried.

You tried to say anything to him, something that would make him not worry and not come over here, but it was useless, he had already hung up.

And you just laid there, in your hard-wood floors, trying to hold your body as you searched for comfort, not really sure if you had the strength to get back up.

It was all my fault. Itwas all my fault. Itwasall my fault. Itwasallmy fault. Itwasallmyfault.

Your brain screams at you as you remember your father going down, and Joyce’s face when she had to tell you.

You don’t know how long it took, or for that matter, how long you had stayed clawing your floor trying to composure yourself. But Steve came through the door.

He came directly to you and said nothing. He just held you, as you just wept. Eternally grateful for him, but at the same time, incredibly embarrassed that he had to see you like that.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper, your voice higher than ever before, your eyes burning from the tears.

You felt the grip of his fingers grow deeper into your skin.

“Don’t be.” He said, as he played with your hair. “I’m here.” He remained you.

You nodded, and let your body relax at those words, your head hitting his chest, him just holding you more and more tightly, reassuring you, comforting you.

“You’re staying at mine from now on.” He declares. His voice, serious, and clear. He grabbed your face, cupping it in between his hands. “You don’t bother. You need to get out of here. And I want you there, okay?” He answers before you can even say nothing to him. You nod, with a shy thank you smile. He nodded as he left a kiss in the crown of your head.

He stayed in the ground with you until your breathing returned to normal, and you could actually talk without hiccups. He had no rush in making sure you were okay.

Once you were capable of standing up, he guided you to the sofa, and made you wait there, as he went into your room and packed the essentials. He told you when you tried to tell him off, that he knew it would be easier if he did it now. That you could come tomorrow and grab what you actually wanted or needed. And yeah, he was right. Because he always is when it comes to you.

“D’you need anything?” You ask as you see him getting ready to leave.

“Oh um… No, think we’re good.” He says as he scans the fridge once again. Coffee pot still hot.

You give him one of your funny looks, judging him as he runs his fingers through his hair. You leave your chair and walk right next to him, as you eye the mostly empty fridge, his hand still holding the door.

“Dude, do you really wanna have soup for dinner, again?” You ask him, eyebrows lifted, sarcasm in your voice.

“Well, no. Not really.” He admits, closing the door. Walking back to his mug, raising it to his lips. “But you don’t have to go and get anything, I can do it.” He says, eyes lost on the maroon liquid.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m the one invading your house, let me do something!” You demand of him, almost begging.

He nods as he leaves to grab his brown worn-out jacket. Your eyes are set on him, the way he moves, ever so easily, confident in everything he does, even if that is just his routine, you’re amazed by the way his arms glide through the sleeves, and how his head lifts up, hair bouncing, defying gravity all the same.

His eyes meet yours for just a second.

“You don’t have to do anything in return you know? I like having you around.” He reassures you. Hands in his pocket, you nod with a polite smile back. He copies your body language, relaxed. “Be back at 8, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Even if he isn’t conscient of it, you catch him muttering under his breath as the entrance door opens.

“I always worry ‘bout you.”

Be as it may, it makes you smile. Not really sure why it would, it still does.

So as you lay in his kitchen, you begin to do what you’ve taken as your routine since he invaded you to live in his house a few weeks ago. You clean the dishes from the night before, and sort out what needs to be sorted out. Laundry and bathroom today.

You spend a quiet morning doing so, not haunted my memories, not a devastating inner monologue, just that. Stillness and calmness. And it seems as though the weather accompanies you today, with an unusually warm sunlight that crawls through the windows, a promise that today won’t be as freezing as the rest of December has been.

So you decide that today’s a good day to walk around Hawkins.

You’ve been borrowing his old walkman, with the stuck mix-tape that Dustin had gifted him god knows when. You put his headphones on your head, and as you press play, you move through his empty house, crawling to the bedroom that he had for visitors. And you do find yourself thinking how strange it is, such a big house, and yet it’s always empty except for him. An absent father, and an out-of-the-map mother.

Maybe he needed your company just as much as you needed his.

You smile to yourself at that thought, and how perfect it would be if that was the case.

When you look at the mirror, you feel as if you're missing something, not quite sure what it might be, you spin around your room, walls still white, you spot a vivid yellow jumper on your floor. So you grab it and put it on, smelling Steve as it lays on top of your body, you’re ready to leave.

“Thank you” He muttered as he finished his last bite. You had decided to eat on the couch, eyes darted at the T.V.

“Don’t mention it.” You say as you let your plate rest on the coffee table, grabbing your cup of water in the same motion. “I should be thanking you”

“What for?” He demands, looking at you through his brows, unsure.

“Letting me stay here. Y’know, everything…” You let out, avoiding his gaze as you darted around the room.

“How long have we known each other?” He asks all of a sudden, his left hand stroking his face as his eyes finally connect to yours, shocked in response to his question.

“I dunno, seems like I knew you since I was born” You say, sincerely, your face and body relaxing at him, as his right hand readjust a wisp of your hair that wasn’t quite in place.

“Exactly. So stop bullshiting me!” He exclaims. You flinch in show of his response, not really sure what to do next, he readjusts himself. Leg climbing up the sofa, his arm resting in it. Pulling closer to you. “I’ve known you my whole life, so please, please don’t lie to me.” He begs, as one of his hands catches yours, in a plea of sincerity and vulnerability.

“I’m not…” You try to say, as you catch your voice barely coming out of your body, tears bubbling up as your vision gets blurry. A feeling of heaviness invading your chest. Your hand that rested free on the back of the couch is now wiping the beginnings of the tears away, your mouth tasting salty already.

“But… You are… You can tell me…” He whispers back, the grip he has in your hand growing stronger, his eyes shooting compassion and begging for you to trust in him, to let yourself be seen by him.

“I just… It’s my fault…” You mutter, as you finally let your walls down, crumbling down, not physically, but you could feel the silent tears not waiting for you to wipe them, as they escape with no order.

“It wasn’t.” He answers back.

“It feels like it…” Your voice barely audible, you see his head getting closer so he could hear you.

“I know it does, but everything that happened… Yeah, it sucks but… Y’know, you’re alive.” Your face flinches at that, yes you are alive but for all that it’s worth, he isn’t and if you had to put words into what you were actually feeling it would be survivors guilt. “And you deserve to be…” He finishes, with his free hand, he pushes hair away from your face, and leaves it there, in the back of it, stroking your hair, hoping he can give you some sort of reassurance. He does.

“I don't… Not more than he did…” You try to argue. To no avail, you can see Steve crumbling down, his body moving closer to you now, holding your gaze up to meet his eyes.

“I think he would think otherwise.” He tells you, as his thumb wipes some of the tears away, soft eyes looking at you, with a sideways smile.

“Yeah, and he’d be a dick about it..” You whisper, making you both laugh.

“Oh absolutely he would.” He says, laying your head in his shoulder, as he rests his head on yours, holding you sideways.

Intimacy growing between the both of you, you enjoy that moment of stillness and quiet.

You usually weren’t able to fall asleep until later in the night, meaning that usually, the sun could be seen waking up when you went down, finding comfort in knowing that sunshine was coming.

So, as a consequence, you had a habit of saying goodnight to Steve at around ten o’clock at night, when he went upstairs to his bed. You would catch one of the books that his father had laying about and bring it with you, in the room next to him, sharing nothing else but quiet and a wall.

So you sat down, back to the wall, resting on top of the comfortable and cold bed. Having decided to finally read Pride & Prejudice, you moved your hair out of your way, pulling it up in a ponytail. Still wearing Steve’s yellow sweater, you removed your pants, resting the book in your bare legs, you started to read.

Before you knew it, you were immersed in it, reading.

“Chapter 12

In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth’s wishes, for she was impatient to get home…”

Steve’s screaming snapped you out of the world you had immersed yourself in.

You dropped the book and were rapidly moving across your room, opening his door wide. You find him, his head resting in his hand, chest moving rapidly as he had trouble breathing. His eyes move at you for a moment, though he wants to, and you can tell, he’s not capable of saying anything to you.

So you don’t say anything.

Nor did you think about what you were doing.

Your body just found its way to his, holding him, just like he had hours before. You could feel him leaning his weight into you, his body exhausted and crumbling into yours, so you did what he did for you. You held him, no questions asked. No demands.

His chest, you could see, was back to its normal rhythm, though you had become distracted by the fact that he wasn’t wearing any shirt or nothing to that matter, but some old pyjama pants.

His head rested in your shoulder this time, and his lips whispered into your ear, so soft and so deep that it sent tingles to your whole body as he spoke.

“I’m better… I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me…” You finish for him, as your hand finds itself lost into his hair, something that you never dared to do before.

You could feel him smiling, as he nodded, hair tickling your cheek as he did so. The warmth between the two of you growing, with a need of touch that you both had met in this moment.

“I don’t have to leave if you don’t want me to.” You whisper to him. Your head looking down at him, his brown eyes were still shining, even at the dead of night. But then again, they always did when he looked at you.

So, with no words needed, he opened his side of the blanket and you crawled inside. His body was holding you tight, just as you did to him. Your head in his chest, his hands in your hair. You hadn’t slept that quickly or comfortably in a long time. And neither had he.

It became a routine.

Nighttime fell on the Harrignton household, and he would head upstairs first, you would follow his steps half an hour later, book in hand. He would rest his head on your chest covered by one of his old shirts while you read. Once you felt his body relax, you would close the book and let him hold you, the nightstand light turned off.

He woke up first, and he would always leave a sleepy kiss on your shoulder while he mumbled a good morning. He’d go down and you would creep out of the sheets when the smell of coffee travelled its way to you.

And you would share a quiet morning.

It felt nice. It felt good. It felt right.

But you could also tell that it was screwing with your head.

You had caught his hands caressing your skin more and more lately, and the places he touched would burn with a strange mix of desire and need, expressing themselves in warmth. You saw his eyes darting to your lips when you were speaking to him. His going-out-to-work hugs would last more and more, and they left no space between your bodies.

You weren’t free of guilt either.

Your hands now had the habit of searching for him in the middle of the night. Your lips searched for his shoulder to leave a kiss on them every time he turned around in his sleep, craving to hear him let a soft moan out. And everytime he was standing in the kitchen you would hug him from behind, your arms holding tight as your hands played with his shirt.

You realized in the middle of the day, that you were indeed falling madly in love with him.

So, on that night, when he came home, you looked at him like you never had before.

Your breath got caught up for a second too long. Your eyes shined bright every time you dared to look back at him. Your cheeks grew pink and warm when he hugged you as soon as he came from outside, even if his clothes were cold, you didn’t feel it, your body burning up in new discovered feelings.

You grew nervous and fidgety, craving his closeness. Feeling somehow guilty of what your heart felt, scared shitless of what this all could mean.

And you didn’t know this, but he was just as nervous this evening.

So when he caught you picking at your skin, he didn’t warn you before grabbing your hand.

You were once again in his bed. Book closed in your chest. His face close to yours, his eyes looking softly at you, begging for you to say what was on your mind, his lips slightly parted.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice sounded tired, as if he had been but a moment away from falling asleep. As he grabbed the ends of your fingers, you saw how truely close his lips were to them. When he saw you growing quiet, staring at him with doe-like eyes, he pulled himself closer to you. Your body is completely touching him.

“C’mon, you can tell me… I.. I’m here…I’m your friend…”

You let out a soft laughter, and didn’t really think before speaking.

“But you're not…” You whisper to him. His eyes take offence at this, his body moving forwards from you as you tell him that.

“What do you mean?” He begged, his voice barely audible, but broken.

“Friends don’t do this… Steve I…” You were getting flustered, his hands still wrapped around your fingers.

“Whaddumean?” He asked, all in one phrase.

“Friends don’t… This!” You say as you point at both of you, he shaked his head, not really following you. “Friends don’t sleep together, they don’t cuddle, they don’t kiss you good morning and good night, they don’t…” You can see him getting slightly offended at the words that you're saying to him.

“Look, you can’t leave! You were the one that said that-” You had to cut him off. You didn’t like him getting flustered or mad about something that was not what you meant.

“I don’t wanna leave! I want to stay like this! I want… you” You say, your eyes completely sincere, your shoulders relaxed, begging him to understand what you were trying to say to him without actually having to say it outloud.

“Then what do you mean we’re not…” He’s getting frustrated, hands in his hair, scratching in anger, in misunderstanding.

“Goddammit Steve!” You yell to him, throwing the blanket off of you, to his body. Your chest goes up and down rapidly. “I love you!” You yell to him, your cheeks warm and red, tears of nervousness in the corners of your eyes.

“I love you too but… I don’t- I’m not following.” He said, in his most honest, lost voice. His body closer to yours again, begging to understand what was going on.

“Steve…” You whisper. “I… I mean, that, I’m in love with you…”

As soon as your words reach him, you can see the way the light lights up in his head, as he understands what you mean. So he does what he’s been dreaming about for so long.

His left hand grabs your cheek, and as your eyes meet, he holds you like this for a moment, foreheads touching, both of your eyes closing. Your heart is beating faster than ever. And he finally closes the distance.

Your lips finally touch. In need to finally feel the way he feels, his other hand getting lost in the back of your neck, playing with your hair, as he holds you closer and closer. No rush between you, your arms hold him, getting lost in the back of his neck. Needing him like you’ve never needed him before. Your tongues touch as the kiss deepens. You're both smiling as you do so.

“I guess we’re not friends.” He whispers an inch away from your lips, kissing you again. Making you laugh in between kisses.

“I guess not.” You say as you continue. Kissing him. His lips. His neck. Messing with his hair as much as you can, enjoying the way his body fitted against yours.

“I’m in love with you too.” He admits later in the night, as he spoons you, whispering it in your ear, as he turns you around to kiss you again.

You didn’t sleep that night, for a good reason this time.

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference

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ussgallifrey · 1 year

Text

Home for the Holidays | Part 1

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, fake dating, hurt/comfort, light mentions of divorce, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Author's Note: Who are we blaming for this mess? Say it with me: @top-hhun ! The true enabler of all things Jake Seresin. I owe it all to you, love <3

[Master List]

The gym was nearly deserted this time of day. The USS Abraham Lincoln was a mere 48 hours away from port and the crew was anxiously anticipating their first bit of proper leave in over nine months. Your air carrier wing, however, was due to leave in the morning.

You should be packing your things and cleaning up the mess in your locker. But you felt the need to blow off some steam first. And somehow, he always knew when and where to find you.

Even with your earbuds in, you can sense his presence just before he makes himself fully known to you - hovering back by the treadmills. You let him sweat it out, finishing the final few steps of your post-workout cool down on the floor mat, your gym playlist coming to a perfect conclusion.

If he was going to seek you out during your off time, then he would have to wait.

Wiping the sweat from your brow as you stand back up, muscles aching with a pleasant burn, you pull your earbuds out one at a time before turning to face your companion. Hangman is leaning casually against the side of the squat rack now, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

“So,” he drawls in that familiar accent of his, “We doing this?”

You let your eyes trail over his features for a moment, chest still heaving from the afterburn of your workout. How dare he look so put together in his flight suit while in the presence of your sweat-soaked gym clothes.

“What? Just drop trow and do it on the floor?”

You make a grab for your water bottle, taking a refreshingly cool swig before wiping your mouth dry. He doesn’t even have the decency to look fazed by the question.

“At least let me lay down a towel first since I’m not being afforded the luxury of getting dragged back to your berth like one of your other lady friends.”

His eyes narrow and his smirk grows.

Some people had ship wives when they were deployed. Jake Seresin had you.

That wonderfully strange mix of teasing flirtation and sworn rivalry that you somehow balanced between the two of you.

“Don’t tempt a man,” he grins wolfishly, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward to meet you halfway. “Just say the word, Pita. And your dreams could just become reality.”

You scoff, sidestepping him, “What, the less-than-stellar sex or this convoluted plan you came up with?”

“We - ” he quickly reiterates, waving an accusing finger between you both, “The convoluted plan that we mutually came up with, thank you. Gotta share the credit.”

There was this thing the two of you started doing, way back in the day. The savior swoop, you think he coined it.

The whole thing started with a lovely hole-in-the-wall bar in Sydney during a week-long leave. You had been happily content minding your own business with the three other women from your squadron - Rocky, Juggs, and Barb- when in came an overly smiley Hangman, who had quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and muttered, behind clenched teeth.

“You’re my girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend and I will give you all the money out of my wallet if you sell this for me.”

You had stared at him for a long moment, followed by an affronted, “Yes, hello, Pita. Nice to see you too - ”

That was when he roughly pinched your side. A young woman appeared just a moment later with a lipstick-coated smile that seemed to fall the moment she spotted you. Realization dawned and you pulled the best obnoxious girlfriend ruse you could with six shots of vodka in your system.

At the time, it had never really crossed your mind as to why he approached you out of everyone else. Eventually, you just wrote it off as the fact that you were far more familiar with the man since you had been flying together the longest. That and you knew for a fact that any one of them would have left Hangman out to dry.

It was a thing then. A very non-recurring, once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing.

Hangman became your cover boyfriend when a pushy marine wouldn’t seem to take a hint. You filled in when two civilians, eager to hook up with a uniformed airhead, kept him from his pool game. It was just a mutually beneficial back-and-forth for the two of you.

No feelings required. Just the occasional dropping of a honey or babe when it was necessary to sell the point, much to the amusement of your fellow aviators who loved to egg it on even more.

This little plan, however, was taking the fucking cake.

You can’t even remember who got started talking about the upcoming homecoming and eventual leave.

The Vigilantes must have pleased the big names over in the admiralty because your air carrier wing had secured ten days of leave right over the Christmas holiday. It was virtually unheard of. But your squadron had just returned from a lengthy tour and you knew at least one or two new chest candies would be heading your way soon.

But there you were with Hangman, shooting the shit in the officer’s rec room with a few other guys from the squad. Freeze was going to propose to his girl finally, Sparky had his whole family coming up from Arizona, and Cosmo was planning some big soul-searching trip to Mount Rainier.

Maybe someone had asked if Seresin was taking his girlfriend back home to visit his family - followed by several good-natured laughs. Maybe it was the obnoxious aviator himself who suggested it with a flash of clear amusement in his eyes.

Either way, here the two of you were, a day shy of flying back to Lemoore, with this massively stupid plan waiting in the wings.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s our stupid plan. An unnecessary plan, I may add. You could just tell your family that you’re not - ”

“Too late now. I told my mom you were coming - you know, when we agreed to it a week ago,” he mimics your annoyance with a great big grin.

You stare down the corridor, wondering if you could just make a run for it and avoid the conversation - and the plan - entirely.

There was a fundamental difference between doing the act to throw off an inebriated barfly and another thing entirely to fly across the country to play house for one of your families for the day.

Hangman crowds your space, staring you down with a knowing look in his bright sage green eyes. Fixing your own stare in return, you stand your ground - lips tight and eyes narrowed.

“You could literally just tell her we’re friends. Only friends.”

He laughs, outright laughs in your face then.

“And miss out on the fun? Where’s your sense of adventure, honey?” he smiles for a moment before finally relenting.

His features soften, taking a quick cursory glance around to seemingly insure your current privacy from the rest of the crew.

“Look, you’d be doing me an honest-to-God favor if you came along.”

You knew that. Hell, you had a whole conversation about it six nights ago actually. You knew Hangman’s family was a mess from the day you and him had crossed paths on the flight deck for the first time. It was just written into his very being.

“Yeah, yeah. Classic savior swoop. Pull at my heartstrings some more while you’re at it, Seresin.”

His features light up as he places a stick of gum between his lips, giving a signature smirk, “You’re gonna make a hell of an impression, Pita. I’ll give you that.”

You pat his shoulder playfully, “Thank me after I get your mother permanently off your back.”

“Will do,” he says with a sort of yes ma’am tone as he watches you walk back to officer’s country before your next debrief.

The journey back to Lemoore had been blessedly smooth flying. The raucous crowd spilled past the barrier the minute the first aviator stepped down onto the tarmac. Families and loved ones flung themselves onto their long-lost loves. Wives and girlfriends with single-stem roses, newborn babies, and weepy toddlers holding signs and tiny flags. It was a familiar, happy sight.

You watch from afar, zipping your helmet back into its carrier, and shouldering your duffle bag.

There was no point in having your family fly out just to meet you here. They were going to see you in three days anyway. Might as well save everyone on the crazy airfare for a change.

A sudden scream pulls your attention to the aviator on bended-knee, with a sobbing brunette now throwing herself into his arms.

“He almost lost the ring before we left.”

You eye Hangman as he sidles in next to you, running a hand through his helmet hair. He’s got a fond smile on his face as he watches the newly engaged couple - Freeze is walking his girl back to the hangar and she’s wrapped herself around his waist like a sloth.

“Seriously? Should start calling him Frodo,” you muse, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder.

“Think Smeagol would be more appropriate.”

You know that he can see you openly mouthing the word Nerd with an air of fake judgment. He just gives a silent head shake of a laugh and double-checks the zipper on his own helmet bag.

The two of you watch as the immediate rush of people seems to ease back, clearing the tarmac.

“So…” he grins, “We still doing this?”

Turning to get a good look at him, you take in the very teasing expression on his face. Though his eyes are too squinted from the overhead sun to get a real good take on his exact inner workings.

“Well, as fun as it would be to leave you hanging for a change - ”

He chuckles, taking a step back to grab his own duffle bag from the ground, “Admit it, Pita. You’d start to feel bad for me. With that aching heart of yours and all.”

“Hah!” you tilt your head back with a bark of laughter, “Oh, Hangman. You have no idea just how steel-coated this heart is. I would delight in seeing you hung out to dry. However, I make it a habit to hold true to my promises.”

“Good,” he nods with a surprising sureness. Plucking his signature box of toothpicks out of his pocket, twiddling with a single pick for a moment, he adds, “Because I would have hated having to chase you down and drag you back to Texas on my own.”

“Mmm, in your alpha male dreams, Hangman.”

You part ways in the parking lot with plans to catch up in three hours. It would, theoretically, be enough time to unpack the essentials, clean yourselves up, and pack a carry-on for the flight.

The on-base house has remained the same as when you left it six months prior, albeit a thin layer of dust covers parts of the room that you swear you’ll get around to cleaning before you fly back out. After your gloriously long, hot, uninterrupted shower, you manage to throw together a reasonable bag in no time flat. Rolling shirts and pants up with expert ease.

And then there’s a knock on your door, one minute before your set meet time. It makes you wonder how long Hangman was waiting around, trying to time it just right, before he came up onto the front porch.

You unceremoniously toss your bag into his arms as a way of greeting, locking the door behind you as he laughs.

“Hello to you too, darlin’.”

“Coffee,” you say by way of explanation, pushing by him. “I need coffee and food if you want to keep me from ripping your head off before we board.”

He gives a sharp nod, following after you to the waiting Chevy pickup in your driveway, “Can do. Gotta keep my girl happy.”

“Oh god,” you groan, turning to look back at him as you pull open the passenger’s door, one foot on the running board. “Are we starting that now?”

His eyes flicker with amusement as he carefully shoves your bag in behind your seat, holding the side handle as he peers up at you.

“Well, you know what they say - ” he flips the toothpick in his mouth around with the roll of his tongue, lips tugged into a smug grin around it, “Practice makes perfect.”

You blank, staring down into the all-too-confident eyes of your wingman.

“And I can still catch another flight,“ you retort with an equally Cheshire-like grin.

His smile falls in an instant, “Right, coffee for the missus.”

The howl of laughter you give is worth it as he seemingly scrambles to shut your door for you, jogging around the front of the truck, before hopping into the driver’s seat.

“I’m not a cheap date either, Seresin,” you warn, clicking your seatbelt into place. “None of that gas station stuff. I just spent months with mediocre instant brews and I deserve something to keep me awake and smiling for this little ruse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles good-naturedly as he places his hand on the back of your seat, peering over his shoulder as he backs the truck out of the driveway.

The awkwardness hits the minute he pulls out onto the main road, just past the east entrance gate. As though the barbed-wire fence offered a semblance of safety when you were still behind the traffic barrier. But now the cloak was pulled free and you were both fully aware of the situation you were in.

You had spent the better part of a year and a half with this man, both on and off a carrier. You knew his breakfast preferences and his anal retentiveness when it came to the upkeep of both his flight gear and his hair. His argument-worthy movie choices and his pre-flight rituals. It was just a normal part of co-existing on a carrier in the middle of the ocean, you suppose.

And yet, here you were - for seemingly the first time ever - with just him in an enclosed proxy. There was no Freeze or Sparky there to break the tension with an off-the-cuff joke. No Freud to poke fun at the tension itself - should we give you two lovebirds space or do we get a free show?

No, it was just you and Hangman, in his truck, with the genuine realization that you were actually doing this hovering in your quickly sobering thoughts.

Maybe ideas had after doing a twelve-hour, start-to-finish, mission weren’t actually the best things to be acted upon.

There’s the soft hum of a splotchy country radio station that keeps coming in and out of range to fill that voided space between you. A twangy Christmas cover croons over the speakers as you stare out at the open desert landscape that surrounds the empty stretch of road.

You want to say something, anything really to break that strange note of silence.

But for once in your long career of being a give ‘em as good as they get kind of officer, you find the words surprisingly dried up on your tongue. And that doesn’t particularly bode well for the two of you if you have to spend the next forty-two hours together.

Hangman, for all intents and purposes, appears entirely unfazed by the arrangement. As he reclines back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other draped against the closed window, catching a bit of direct sunlight.

The only true difference, besides the civvies, is the tightened line of his lips. And his usually slicked-back helmet hair is surprisingly… fluffy, for lack of a better descriptor. You wonder if, like yourself, he only used product when it came to being in uniform or if he just didn’t have the time for it in the mad rush to get to the airport at a reasonable time.

“See somethin’ you like?”

The quip is a loud, sudden intrusion into your silent introspective. He glances over at you with a teasing smirk already in place.

You huff in abhorrence, eyes flicking back to the road in front of you - refusing to fall into an obvious trap like that.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask instead.

He switches hands, gripping the steering wheel with his left as his right comes to rest on his inner thigh. He rubs at the denim for a moment as he seems to contemplate his answer.

“I think it might have something to do with my next month’s worth of bonuses being up for grabs.”

The smile on your face dims for a second.

You weren’t particularly interested in prying Hangman’s money from him. If it had been anyone else in the squadron, you would have found yourself in a similar situation - you were sure of it. It’s just the fact that the two of you had the practice in hand for this one strange stunt.

But you would have done the same for Sparky, Cosmo, or Freud in an instant. It wasn’t about the money, it wasn’t that kind of favor. He knew that, right?

Turning it around, you kiddingly press on, “And the free flight, free meal, and free accommodations, right?”

He cracks another look at you as you come to the first stop sign in over six miles, “You really aren’t shaping up to be a cheap date, are ya, Pita?”

“Hey,” you hold your hands up in a way that seems to say you brought this upon yourself. “You asked me, Hangman.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause my options were real ripe for the pickin’.”

The truck glides through the four-way; no other vehicle in sight.

“Well,” you lean back into the side of your seat, pushed against the window so you can really get a good look at him. “Did you even bother asking anyone else?”

You can see the thick crease of his brow as he bites down on the toothpick, eyes squinting slightly against the afternoon sun.

“Did you even think to ask Captain Manning to go in on this with you? I bet if anyone could get your mom off your back, it’d be him.”

That at least makes Hangman grin, all bright and genuine as he reaches for a pair of sunglasses attached to his visor. He fiddles them on, one-handed, before peering over at you once again.

“Oh, I have no doubt good ole Zilla would win over my momma’s heart. But the man can’t lie to save his teeth. So, excuse me for bypassing him.”

“Such little fate,” you mock.

“Nah,” he taps the steering wheel with an idle finger, “We’re here now, ’s all that matters.”

You were sure it had nothing to do with the fact that out of your squadron of thirty-eight, you were only one of four female aviators currently flying with the Vigilantes. And certainly, the only one even remotely considered to be close to Seresin.

Of course, the alternative would have been trying to convince some random girl to come along with him for the holiday. And while you didn’t doubt Hangman’s ability to pull, it was a bit of a hard sell given the time of year - even for the likes of him and his classic Ken-doll appearance. And chicks loved the Ken-doll appearance.

No, the truly worst alternative would have been making him face the company of his own family alone. The horror.

Letting the now less-than-awkward silence filter back into the cab, you settle in for the rest of the short ride into the nearest city.

The actual town of Lemoore is far more lively and bustling than the base stationed just thirteen miles west of it. Hangman easily follows your directions to a coffee shop off the main drag - immediately glancing down at his watch, as if trying to mentally calculate the maximum amount of time you could deviate from his schedule.

After parking out front, he holds the door open for you and another couple as the rich aroma of fresh brew and baked goods hits your senses. Was there ever a sweeter smell? After months at sea, with only the array of mixes in the officers’ mess to keep you going, this was like walking into paradise.

Hangman scooches in next to you in line. His sunglasses are at least clipped to the front of his t-shirt’s collar now as he peruses the colorful red and green menu with an appraising kind of look - flipping that damn toothpick of his around in his mouth as he weighs his options.

It’s still decidedly strange to be doing this with him.

While you frequently found yourself in the company of your squadron, both on and off duty, this was notably uncharted territory.

There’s a slightly stoic demeanor that Seresin has when out in public, but the minute you’re called up to the register, he’s got the biggest grin on and good old boy charm ready to go. While he ends up ordering a breakfast sandwich and a surprisingly high-sugar content pumpkin spice frappe, you go for the turkey melt and an iced coffee. He pays for it all - out of some sense of duty to the mission, you suppose - and stuffs a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar for good measure too.

The two of you hover at the end of the counter, next to the hanging snowflake decorations, while you wait for your order to finish up. He’s got his arms crossed and a downturned look on his face as he stares at the coffee shop’s patrons - couples spread out amongst the two-seater tables. A modest indie version of “Santa Baby” and the quiet hum of chatter keep either one of you from speaking until his name is called by the barista.

But as you head back outside, he stops you at the hood of the truck - his brow pinched.

“I’m not gonna be insulted if you back out, you know.”

Scrunching your lip, you say, “Good to know - ” while making a move for the passenger door, clutching your drink and carry-out bag in one hand.

“I mean it,” his voice raises slightly as he rounds his side of the vehicle, continuing the conversation from across the open doorway as you hop in. “We get to Fresno and you take a flight back home and we’ll act like this whole plan never existed.”

You wonder, briefly, where this change of heart is coming from. But you give a little nod, slotting your condensation-heavy coffee into the cup holder - it might be December but it certainly didn’t feel like it out here.

“I mean if you’re looking to get rid of me so easily…”

“That’s not - ”

Hangman groans, slamming his door closed with more force than probably necessary as he scrubs a hand down his face. He stares ahead for a moment before finally saying, in a much more even tone:

“It’s a lot to ask of someone. And I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes wondering what the hell I was thinkin’ asking you to do this in the first place.”

You have the good grace to leave your sandwich wrapped up and on your lap as you turn to give your companion your full attention.

You’re reminded of the conversation the two of you had nearly a week ago.

He was just about staring daggers into his meal when you found him in the Wardroom, well past the dinner rush. There was a pen settled between his fingers like a damn cigarette that he kept twirling around as his gaze drifted past the food in front of him.

And you - like any good person would - asked him what the hell the plate ever did to him.

As you joined him at the empty table, he admitted that he had just gotten the third email that week from his mom going on and on about his future and how he’s getting older, and that the eligible dating pool is vanishing before his very eyes.

“What, is she dead set on having grandkids before she kicks it or something?” you had asked with a pitched tone.

He had just shaken his head, ruffling a hand through his hair - food long forgotten in front of him, “Nah, she’s got nine already. She just gets into a mood around the holidays. But it’s been getting on more and more like this lately.”

“Guess you got no choice but to get hitched the minute you get your boots dry.”

At least that had managed to pull a laugh out of him, even if it seemed hollow and lackluster compared to his usual booming tone.

“Nah, I’m being serious here, Hangman. Have a 72-hour marriage for show, break it off before we head back out. Just give her something for the holiday so she’ll get off your damn back for a while.”

And though it took a moment, his face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. As though he had made the ultimate connection in his brain and had come up with the idea all on his own. As though you hadn’t been joking in the slightest.

“Someone who could pull it off. Someone who has real-time experience with yours truly, right?”

You’re not sure how, in only a matter of an hour, Hangman had convinced you to go along with it. To play the role of doting and loving girlfriend for a one-night-only performance for his mother, of all people. But, at that exact moment, it had seemed like the greatest idea known to man. Hangman, specifically.

But here you were, only hours from hopping on a commercial flight together to put on a show for the big leagues. Was it any wonder either one of you was getting cold feet?

“Seresin.”

His eyes finally drift over to yours. His face is just about as stoic as he can make it be outside of an inspection line. But his eyes, that’s where the real trouble lies.

“I’m already here. I don’t back out of promises - even the most ridiculous kind. So, get the damn ignition started, and let’s go before we get stuck in security for the next two hours.”

He takes you in for a long contemplating kind of moment as you try to be reassuring with only your earnest expression alone. Whatever he finds there, he must deem it good enough for him and his sensibilities because not a second later the truck engine purrs back to life and he’s pulling out onto the street.

He has the good sense not to bring it up for the rest of the drive. When you pull into the airport’s parking lot, he makes a vague last-chance kind of gesture, but you just yank your bag out of the backseat and head towards the terminal entrance. He rushes to grab his own gear to catch up to you.

You discover how much of an antsy flier Hangman is when it comes to flights he’s not personally manning. Constantly checking the time, mumbling about the slow-moving lines - which you remind him is attributed to the fact that you were in an international airport, traveling five days before Christmas.

He had you rushing to get to your gate a good hour before you were even required to be there. And by that point, he was on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands, just waiting for the second your boarding party was called.

His mom snagged the two of you business-class seats for the trip the minute she heard her son would be bringing home a girl this year. You want to feel guilty about it, but you’re actually grateful for the upgrade as you stretch out into the padded seat next to him. The last thing you wanted was to be packed in with the other sardines in Economy.

The flight to Dallas is about as interesting as a FOD walk. With Hangman pulling out a tablet once you’re at cruising altitude, while you pop in your earbuds and almost immediately pass out for two hours straight.

It’s his amused green eyes that you awaken to.

The rough press of his hand against your shoulder and your last name being repeated with louder and more serious persistence. You feel a bit like a zombie as you shuffle alongside him to your next gate after disembarking. That spontaneous nap had been a bit too deep and dreamless for that short of a period, as you woke up feeling more tired than when you initially fell asleep.

There’s a nearly two-hour layover there in Dallas. But you just inch forward through the crowds until your boarding group is called and you’re back onto another plane. The skies outside the window have faded to a vibrant amethyst color, splattered with rays of gold and amber as the bright lights of the city disappear into the distance.

This flight is short in comparison, which you’re thankful for as the grime of travel seems to hang off you now. Roughly an hour out and you would finally be able to debark and collapse face-first into a hotel room.

Hangman has his tablet out again, though he seems far less interested in picking up where he left off on his E-book now. He’s got his right leg crossed over his left at the knee, anxiously tapping his foot and therefore jostling his tablet as he peers at the headrest in front of him.

He had traded for the aisle seat this time, so it takes you a moment to pull your attention away from the changing scenery of the landscape outside your window to properly notice his change in demeanor.

“Hmm?” you hum in question.

He shoots a glance at you - something coming to terms on his face - before he ultimately shoves his tablet against his side and turns as much as he can in the confines of the seat to face you properly.

“My favorite color is blue; dark blue, not sky blue. I hated all of my English classes in school. I track the Longhorns’ scores religiously when we’re out. I despise almonds in their entirety. Non-dairy substitutes are an absolute no-go.”

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay…?”

With a roll of his eyes, “We’ve been dating for however long. These are things you’d know about me at this point, right?”

“Ahhh, gotcha,” you settle against the armrest in between you both to really look into his eyes. “See, I didn’t realize that to enter your mom’s house I would have to pass the Seresin partner pop quiz first.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he pulls away, running his hand through his unkempt hair.

You kick your foot at his shin, just a playful tap really, to get his attention.

“You prefer sausage links over patties. You won’t shut the fuck up about Hudson Card and his current stats - which are shit, by the way. You suck at poker and any other card game we’ve ever played. You have a lucky pair of briefs that you wear every time we - ”

“Okay,” he quickly interrupts, holding up his hand to cut you off.

“Come on,” you grin. “We’re in too tight of a circle to not know the damn basics about each other at this point. How about, instead of playing twenty questions until we land, you tell me about the off-limits stuff.”

At the questioning raise of his brows, you elaborate.

“Any triggers words? Like, I have an uncle Edward who, if you mention iPhones, will go on an unhinged rant about 5G towers and radiation until he runs out of breath. Anything like that I should be made aware of?”

His features seem to relax at last as he rubs his hand along his jawline for a moment, “Best not mention my Dad at all. Avoid the name Gwen, if you can.”

“Stepmom?”

He nods, blowing out a long breath, “Stepmom.”

“Think I can manage that. Anything else?”

For the rest of the flight, you cover the basics of the trip. His mom, Patricia - but call her Patty - is a bit of a germaphobe.

She has two guest rooms and will gladly offer to accommodate you both for the night, but she’d actually hate it if you took her up on the offer. She’s a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas dinner; none of that fusion food at her table. She’ll sneak off to the kitchen for a not-so-sneaky drink if the conversation takes a turn at all.

But most importantly, she definitely does not want to hear about any missions he has been on, though she’s very proud of his current career.

“And where are we on the PDA scale?” you ask as Hangman grabs your bag from the trunk of the rental car.

You had been stuck at the baggage carousel for forty-five minutes, the car rental counter for another twenty, and then the drive from the southern part of Austin up to the northern part had taken over half an hour. At this point, you were done.

But, for once, you had to admit that the company wasn’t the worst to be had.

“Ehh, probably on the low side? Enough to pass as a couple but not enough to make her grab hold of the metaphorical pearls.”

You hum in understanding, noticing that he’s still got his fingers looped through the strap of your bag along with his own as you head for the side entrance of the hotel, up to your room on the third floor.

After nabbing the key card from him, you unlock the door and immediately flick on the lights - making a straight line to the double bed by the window and unceremoniously flopping down on it, face first. Your bag is dropped next to your leg, making the bed jostle slightly, but you merely grunt in acknowledgment.

You can hear his tired chuckle somewhere above you, followed by the sound of his boots being kicked off.

“Before you disappear on me again, Pita. Be a dear and take a look at that informational on the table and find us some damn food.”

Giving a lazy thumbs up in his general direction, Hangman gives a departing laugh before he heads into the bathroom - but only after securing the deadbolt on the main door first.

It takes a moment, but you finally summon the energy to pull yourself up onto your elbows. Snatching the paper brochure from the bedside table with a listing of the local attractions and restaurants. You skim the names until you find a pizza place that’s supposedly open til midnight. It was only - you glance at the radio clock - 10:46 pm, so you should be good to send in a delivery order.

“Pizza?” you call out.

You can make out the muffled what he yells back in return.

“Do you want pizza?”

Your louder query is immediately responded to with a rough I can’t fuckin’ hear you in here.

Flipping onto your side, you wait for him to emerge from the bathroom to bother communicating with him again. Pulling out your phone, you search for the restaurant and casually scroll through their menu until you hear the click of the door.

Hangman shuffles out, grabbing his abandoned hoodie from the bed and methodically folding it up, “What were you hollering about?”

“Pizza sound good?”

He grunts, nabbing his boots and moving them into a more reasonable location in front of the open closet by the door.

“Depends on the place.”

You look at the name on the webpage, “Market Street Pizzeria?”

With a nod, he pads across the room and plops down heavily on the bed opposite yours, running both hands through his hair as he seems to stifle a yawn before it can escape.

“They’re good,” lifting his hips up from the bed, he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, rummaging for a moment before he tosses a card at your face. “Here, get whatever. I’ll just pick off anything too offensive.”

You glance down at the card before immediately slamming it down on the nightstand, “Yeah, I’ll get this one. And I hope you don’t find pepperoni and cheese too obscene for your standards.”

He stares at you for a long moment before relenting and swiping up his debit card. You eye him as he tosses his wallet down at the foot of his bed before he props the pillows up and rests back against them - grabbing hold of the TV remote.

“Should be twenty minutes,” you announce, dropping your phone down on the bed as you push yourself up into a sitting position.

He hums in acknowledgment as you unzip your bag and fish out a pair of pajama pants that you had packed near the top of your items. You disappear into the bathroom to do your business and change - staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. Two flights and an impromptu nap had not done you any favors and that was a fact. After splashing some water on your face, you join Hangman back in the room.

He’s got just about everything settled already. A phone charger’s meticulously looped and plugged into the bedside outlet, a toiletry bag on the left-hand side of the dresser, and his own travel bag secured away in the closet next to his boots. The efficient bastard.

When you get the notification that your delivery has arrived, he heads down to collect your food and tip the driver. He ends up sitting at the desk to eat while you sit cross-legged on the end of your bed. The news is playing on mute in the background with the closed captions turned on.

“So,” you say after taking another bite, “What’s our story, in case she asks?”

He wipes his fingers off on one of the napkins before crumbling it up into a ball and taking aim at the trash can - it lands, of course.

But then he seems to remember that you asked a question as he turns in the rolling chair, legs spread wide as he gently sways side-to-side, “Like how we met?”

You roll your eyes, licking your fingertips clean of pizza grease, “I think it’s pretty apparent how we met, Seresin. What I meant was, how long has this - ” you gesture a hand between the two of you - “been going on. I mean, you’re taking me back home for the holidays, so it’s probably pretty serious at this point.”

He gives a chuckle, tapping his fingers on his knees, “How long a period of time is considered appropriate to bring a partner home?”

“Hell if I know,” you chortle, kicking your legs down over the side of the bed as you lean back on your hands.

His brow hitches up, “What, never taken someone home before?”

You don’t like the pointedness of the question as you squint back at him, “Been a bit busy, Bagman. What about you? What’s your excuse?”

“Had a high school girlfriend, dated for three years. Had her over for Christmas our senior year.”

“No one since though?” you ask.

“Like you said,” he leans back in the desk chair, folding his hands together over his stomach, “We’ve been busy.”

You nod, letting the topic settle in front of you both.

It wasn’t unheard of for people to get together on deployment, even less so on the carrier when you were forced into a confined space with the same individuals for months at a time. Shore leave was good for an easy hook-up or two, but real relationships? Those usually only happened prior to getting your orders for the most part.

The majority of the guys you knew had gotten together with their significant others around their time at the Academy, if not even sooner. Half of them got hitched right after graduation so their girl could get a place on base before they shipped out or went to flight school. But after that? Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of time for regular dating.

And it wasn’t that big of a deal when your focus was on your career. People like you and Hangman were all about that life. You didn’t go through the rigors of TOPGUN just to ask to be relocated to a desk job in Pensacola so you could settle down with a nice man and have a few all-American kiddos of your own this early on in your career.

Half your squadron had someone waiting for them back home. It was just a handful of you now that were still noticeably single - happily single, you should add.

“Five months,” you finally announce.

When you’re met with a curious pair of olive green eyes, you reiterate.

“We tell her we’ve been together for five months. Long enough to be serious, but short-term enough to make it seem like we were just being cautious about announcing anything too soon to our families.”

Hangman chews on his lip, mulling over your idea before he leans forward and extends his hand for you to shake, “Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You just shake your head as you grip his hand tightly, “Guess I need to get used to those cutesy little pet names, huh?”

He laughs, pulling back to scratch at his chin, “Mmm, need to start with calling me by my real name for a start.”

“What, no Jakey or Jakers?”

His eyes light up in the soft glow of the hotel room’s incandescents as he dips his head back to laugh, “I swear to god, it’ll be a miracle if we pull this off.”

“Have a little faith in my acting abilities, baby,” you bat your lashes heavily, your voice turning soft and overly sweet. It probably didn’t help that you were functioning on almost nothing but coffee and pizza at this point.

He immediately pushes up from the chair, “I’m heading to bed before you make me hurl my food into the damn sink.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie-kins!” you coo, flopping over on the bed as you watch him collect the pizza box and methodically crush it in half to fit into the small black garbage can.

“Maybe I’ll call Guy up and see if he’s still available,” he muses with an irritated tone of voice, just to spur you on further as he nabs his toiletry bag and heads into the bathroom - leaving the door ajar.

“Now that is a show I would pay money to see,” you finally relent the act, pushing back the white comforter on your bed.

It only takes him a few minutes before he emerges. Jake smirks as he makes his way back to the bed, wearing nothing but his white t-shirt and briefs.

It must speak something to his level of exhaustion that he doesn’t even bother to make a you like what you see sort of comment. Not that you’d never seen him, or any other member of your squadron for that matter, in that level of undress before during pre-flight suit-up. But being at near eye-level in a hotel room was definitely a change in pace, though you also choose not to comment on it.

He merely rolls his comforter all the way to the end of the bed before he gets under the sheets, “You’re not an obnoxious snorer, are you, honey?”

You heft yourself up and cross the room in search of your own toiletry bag, “Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

His tone is edged with a false sense of frustration as he grunts a low, drawn-out, “Lucky me.”

When you return to the room, the TV is off and he’s lying flat on his back.

The luminous blue light of his phone casts his face in sharp brightness as he quietly scrolls through something. You let him have his silence as you deposit your shower bag on your side of the dresser and carefully place your folded bra back into your backpack.

Only once you’re under the covers of your bed, with just the single bedside light on, does Jake relinquish his phone - placing it on the charger. He meets your gaze from across the way and, for a moment, it seems like there’s something he wants to say as he worries at his bottom lip.

But he ultimately just gives you a gruff: Night, Pita. Immediately followed by a curt nod before he turns off his light and rolls over to face toward the door.

With a shake of your head, and an accompanying: Goodnight, Hangman, you roll towards the window and try to settle in to sleep.

The sound of rustling sheets and agitated breaths fills the room for some time before the whirl of air conditioning kicks on. And then it’s only a matter of time before the darkness and the white noise soothes you into the lull of proper sleep.

Story Masterlist || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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this-daydream-is-dangerous-13 · 9 months

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May 20th - date of significance? Yes.

Harry released Harry’s House on May 20, 2022. After waiting many months to release Fine Line on Blondie’s 30th birthday, and after writing the bulk of this album in mid 2020, we can assume he chose this date for a reason. Here’s my proposed reason why.

But first - this requires acknowledging that the official, public Haylor origin story of 2012 is incomplete. Yes, they met in late March, eventually took a break, and picked up again in the fall. But based on Harry’s random flights, their mutual habit of vanishing simultaneously (no photos, fan or otherwise) and the lyrical information they’ve disclosed over the years - there is way more to the story.

Let’s call May, June, and very July of that year the Cruel Summer of 2012.

A bunch of stuff likely seemed to have happened in early May (that’ll be a future post about how the Sweeran origin story is also contradictory). But here we are, mid May.

Taylor is living in LA and mostly in the studio. There’s a stretch mid-month where she seems to disappear. Recall - this is the summer where she rents the house in Hyannis Port for many months.

On May 20th, 5 boys and their crew are spotted at the airport in London, flying to Boston Logan to embark on a couple months touring/doing promo in North America. Take a look at young H:

He is CARRYING ON an acoustic guitar, which he can barely play, rather than sending it ahead with all their other instruments and luggage.

The band lands in Boston; 4 guys head to the Mohegan Sun in CT (where they will play a concert soon) and are photographed by fans. And this guy? Vanishes.

Recall the secret message for Everything Has Changed, which Taylor brought to Ed almost totally done for recording on May 27, 2012:

This song, if you’ll recall, talks of a green-eyed smiling man whose eyes “look like coming home”.

Red was finalized at the very beginning of June; Taylor met the Kennedy grandsons on July 4th weekend. The timing does not work, especially since it was recorded in late May (with pap photos of Taylor and Ed outside the Santa Monica studio that day).

But MORE that that, something else occurs that day. It’s described in a 2014 song by Alex and Sierra written by Harry, and outlined in greater detail by Taylor on folklore. It’s a day described in august:

And…ah…perhaps this was also the date for some of the other events described in august?

And lest you think the whole thing wasn’t significant to Harry…by May 27 or 28, the boy gets his second tattoo. It’s a small capital A on the inside of his left elbow, seen for the first time here:

In an interview given by the boys in early July, Harry is asked about the tattoo (which had been drawn by Zayn, our OG Haylor). I cannot link directly to the interview - search for One Direction Granada TV interview on YT. And at 2:30, Harry is asked the significance of the tattoo.

Harry: oh, it’s for my….ah…ah..it’s for me mum.

Boys: laugh heartily at him

Louis: No it’s not! No, it’s not! It’s for a mystery blond!!

Reader, recall that Blondie publishes all of her songs as Taylor A. Swift.

Ten years later, on May 20, 2022, Harry’s House is released.

And on May 20, 2023, during a rain show at Boston’s Gillette stadium, Taylor Swift tells the crowd “I’ve never been so happy in my life in all aspects of my life…my life finally feels like it makes sense.” And that she will play them “this song, which brings me a lot of happy memories”: Question…?

ETA: Want to know what his next two tattoos are? He has them in this late June photo

- the word “Hi” (“all I know is we said hello, and your eyes looks like coming home)

- the (misquoted) lyrics from Temper Trap’s Sweet Disposition, which happen to be the line which follows *the secret message for Treacherous*. Which he starts kissing while singing love songs starting the day after he gets the tattoo.

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fireflykaizoku · 1 year

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Vampire!Kid x Reader | Red Eyes

i started writing this for halloween, so let's pretend it's still halloween pls thank you! i also thought this would be a multichapter, but let's be honest: i often forget to update the multichapter fics. i may post some special chapters

You came from a family of vampire hunters. So ever since you were a child, you remember seeing your parents, sometimes even your grandparents, go out for long travels to hunt those “awful and vile creatures”, as they said. The feeling was mutual, naturally. Vampires hated you and all the hunters.

Your family held a long time grudge for them due the fact that decades ago, a vampire turned a family friend into one of them. They wanted revenge, and finding the creature that took your friend wasn’t enough for them, and it wasn’t enough for you either.

So that’s how you lived your whole life until now, having an aversion for vampires, and it felt like it was your duty to keep the “family business” and hunt as many as you could. So when you turned fifteen, you started to hunt with your family as well.

Honestly, and you didn’t really want to brag, you became one of the best at your job. You knew you wouldn’t rest until you exterminated each vampire that crossed your path.

While some of them used to fear you, one of them mocked you. He was sarcastic and annoying. Your encounters always turned into a fight and a cat and mouse chase, and whenever you met for another battle, it was hard to tell if both of you lost or if both of you won.

The fights were always cut short, because of course, the vampire with red eyes and pale skin was powerful, but the sun was still one of his weaknesses.

So you both always left with the promise of a rematch. The two of you were equally strong and smart, that explains why there was never a winner.

But how come the two ended up here, so close to the creature you used to hate? The first time you were so close to him was during one of the battles, you were challenging each other, mocking each other even. Eustass Kid, the strongest vampire you’ve ever met, found amusing and admired how you didn’t fear him.

You were the first vampire hunter that didn’t run as soon as you both met. Maybe that’s how it started, the mix of passion and hate; how exciting it was to challenge each other and the whole battle for power. Even though the crucifix around your neck made him feel uneasy and irritated, the redhead couldn’t help finding it amusing to be face to face with you.

Eustass Kid knew he had to conquer you.

And he did.

It took him a long time, but it was worth it. He became so irresistible, maybe because he was the first man, human or not, not to fear you. He challenged you.

And while Eustass Kid only wanted something physical, with hate and desire in the same proportion, the strongest vampire started to feel weird. To feel irritated without you and hate whenever you had to leave.

Your encounters happened very often, but suddenly you stopped meeting him. It had been a week, two… A month even, and Eustass got worried. What a joke, a vampire worried about a pathetic human.

His worries were confirmed after he found you. Kid looked everywhere for you, searching for information of your whereabouts. And when he finally found you, you were weak in bed. The vampire sat on the window, looking at you.

— Why haven’t you told me? — he asked as soon as you laid your eyes on him. — Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?

You rolled your eyes, making them hurt for a second.

— Hello to you too, Eustass. — the silence lasted so long. He was still waiting for your answer. — I didn’t want you to worry. But my situation isn’t the best. I assumed I’d just stop appearing and you’d… Forget about me.

— Great fucking job! And how did that work, huh? — he exclaimed. — Invite him to come in now.

Oh, yes. Sometimes you forgot he was still a vampire and had to be invited.

— Don’t you want to come in, please, Eustass Kid? — you asked.

The red haired vampire entered your room, sitting by your side on the bed without saying a word. He was analyzing your situation, seeing your fragile body.

— I can help you. — he started, making you raise an eyebrow. He knew many things, but for sure he wasn’t a doctor. — If you turn into a vampire, you…

Kid didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to reply right away. What an awful joke was that?

— No! — you tried to say as loud as you could. — Are you insane? A vampire? Seriously, Kid? — you coughed.

— You’ll be able to live! — he got up, raising his voice. — Or you’d rather want to suffer to death?!

You coughed, covering your mouth with your hands, only to notice the small droplets of blood all over it. It was hard not to freak out at this point.

Fuck.

You were definitely getting worse.

— Yes. — it was all you could say, your voice sounded almost like a whisper at this point, unable to say a full sentence without feeling the air leave your lungs. — I’d rather…

Your stubbornness used to amuse Kid when things were funny and not a life or death situation, but now, when you were so sick and who knows what could happen to you, it started to piss him off. Even though you both used to be rivals, enemies even, trying to kill each other whenever you could, the redhead vampire couldn’t lie, he didn’t know what he’d do without you.

— I don’t want to turn into something… — you started, closing your eyes, feeling your chest hurt from taking a deep breath. — That I spent my life trying to kill. It’s against my morals.

— Your morals? — he mocked without even wanting to, it was just too ironic to talk about character and morals now. — With what we have? Seriously, do you think we can talk about morals?

You grunted, trying to move away from the vampire, but your body was too weak to even move. Kid sighed.

— Alright, do you really want to know why I want to do this? — he asked, walked around your room until he stopped, turning his back to you. He, the strongest vampire, wasn’t supposed to have any weakness or feelings, but there he was. — Because I’ll live forever, and knowing that I’ll have to live for the whole eternity without you makes me feel… Weird.

You widen your eyes, not expecting these words to leave his lips. It was the closest to a confession that you’ve ever got in all this time that you were together.

— Weird… How? — your weak voice asked, not trying to get more romantic and cute words from him, but genuinely curious to know.

— It’s a weird sensation, alright? — Kid asked, already about to get defensive. — I don’t like it!

In other words, he’d miss you. He’d miss you so much, he’d hate to live so many years without your company. Your annoying company and your weak little human self.

Silence, awkward and long silence, dominated the room. Kid felt stupid and weak, while you felt surprised and started to think, and maybe you’d regret your choice. And if you did, you’d have to live forever with regret.

— Will it hurt? — you whispered, making him turn to look at you right away, with his eyes full of surprise.

He gulped. Kid tried to remember how he felt when he turned into a vampire, but it was so long ago.

— I don’t know. — his answer was honest, just like he always was.

— Will you stay here with me? — you asked, making him nod. —Alright... Make it quick. Kid moved closer, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap. The movement your painful, after all, your body was still sensitive and in pain. Your lover was trying to get you as comfortable as possible. You closed your eyes shut and gulped, preparing yourself for the pain of the bite. Your mind was racing, wondering if it’d hurt or how it’d feel. Doubt crossed your mind at some point, but you had no choice now. For some reason, you didn’t want to die now.

Maybe Kid was right, turning into a vampire was better than death. Maybe being with him for the rest of your life was better than death.

Kid’s rough hands tried to be as gentle as possible while caressing your neck, finding the perfect spot. He moved even closer, feeling the delicious smell of your flesh, making you shiver. His tongue found your neck, licking the right spot before placing a kiss. The redhead was too tempted. Your smell and the taste of your soft skin were making him lose control. But he obviously couldn’t drink too much of your blood.

After all, you weren’t his prey, you were his lover.

Trying to be as careful as he could, the vampire sunk his teeth into your soft skin. Surprisingly, the vampire bite didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. However, the transformation wasn’t as magical as you assumed it’d be.

It felt like you could hear everything, even a low noise from far away, and it felt like something weird was running through your veins and the foreign sensation was making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes got more sensitive to the lights, and you could feel the slight fangs growing. You closed your eyes shut, trying to make the feeling go away.

While you were trying to get used to the sensation, Kid held you. His strong arms reassured you, letting you know you weren’t going through this alone. It felt like forever, when you opened your eyes, that turned into a bright shade of red now, just like his.

— So, what do we do now? — your still weak voice asked, looking at your lover with big curious eyes. — Do we turn into bats and just fly around scaring people? — you giggled, yawning, as if your body got too tired, trying to still recover.

Kid clicked his tongue and sighed. Looking at the window, the first rays of light were about to invade the room through the curtains.

— You’re very funny to someone who was almost dying. — he paused, getting up and taking you in his arms.

The vampire made his way to the coffin bed made of dark brown mahogany wood and burgundy insides. It was still small, after all, even after all these years, Eustass never expected to have someone sleeping by his side. Maybe he’d need a bigger bed eventually.

He gently placed you inside, entering and making himself comfortable soon after.

— First, you need to rest, brat. — he whispered, placing an unusual soft kiss on your forehead. A quite out of character attitude of his, but he couldn’t help it. All he could feel right now was relief to know you were okay.

You smiled, closing your eyes.

— For the whole eternity sounds like a long time now, right, Eustass? — it was the last thing you remember before feeling your body almost drifting into a calm sleep.

#eustass kid #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates

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