#jake cursing up a storm in spanish

[how-masterful]

After finding out there's a moon knight and venom what if? Novel coming out next year I'm reminded of my desperate want for the Tom Hardy venom to cross over into the mcu purely for the symbiote to have to spend approximately 0.5 seconds in Marc's body before yelling "IT IS FAR TOO CROWDED IN HERE" and jumping ship back into Eddie

#jake cursing up a storm in spanish #steven yelling THAT WAS A RIGHT VIOLATION THAT #Marc is just like #what the fuck man #i just feel like them and eddie would be buddies #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #oscar isaac #moon knight #eddie brock #venom #venom symbiote #tom hardy #mcu #marvel

[ereardon]

As It Was [Chapter 6][Hangman x Reader]

Summary: When Jake Seresin calls to tell you he’s accepted a permanent position at Top Gun, you’re elated to finally be living in the same city as your best friend. But everything changes when Jake tells you his news — he has a new girlfriend, and he’s serious about her. And while you want to like her, for Jake’s sake, something about her feels wrong. Jake's arrival in San Diego also puts you in the direct path of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, who has set his sights on you despite being Jake’s sworn enemy. Every move Rooster makes, Jake intercepts. What game are these two playing, and why is Jake more concerned about you moving on with Rooster than he is about his own relationship? 

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, no use of y/n, car accident, death, war, smut, dom Rooster, angst

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader 

WC: 5.4K

Series masterlist here

“Three years ago, Bradshaw and I got called to the same mission. A really dangerous one, out in Asia. Can’t tell you more than that. It was a small group, only six of us. We were there for about two months before the mission itself took place. Scoping out the land, making plans and preparations.”

You nodded and tucked your legs up on the plush white couch. Jake rarely spoke to you about his job. He was straight laced, very type A military guy. He went by the book and you respected that. So hearing him talk about work in this kind of detail was new. You watched as his eyes grew detached. He became a different person right in front of you. 

“We tried to blend in with the locals the best we could. We didn’t go out in groups, we didn’t go out in uniform. About a week after we got there, I met someone. Her name was Lana. She was a Spanish expat who worked at a local bar. We started seeing each other pretty regularly, whenever I could sneak off base.”

He paused and looked up at you and you urged him on with your eyes. 

“Lana and I got pretty close. And one night, we were at her bar, making out, when Bradshaw walked in. I pretended like I didn’t know him, that was part of our operative state. Nobody could know we were connected. But I saw him. He sat there and watched us out of the corner of his eye. When we went upstairs to her apartment over the bar, his eyes followed me.”

Where was this story going? 

“A couple days later, there was a fight between some of the guys on the squad. The tension of the mission was really getting to everyone. Bradshaw and I stepped in to break it up. And then suddenly, it was us fighting. He said I was fucking a local to get information and that I was putting the whole mission at risk.”

“And what did you say?” 

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I knew something about him. Something others on the team didn't know.” 

“What was that?” You were scared. 

Jake looked up. “His father was a WSO who died on a mission. His pilot was another guy who was there on the ground with us in Asia.”

“What did you do?” Your voice was cold as ice. 

Jake’s eyes were filled with pain. “I fucked up. I said that I was glad he wasn’t my wingman because he might let me die the way his father did. And that I actually had a family at home who would miss me.” 

You sat back, stunned. Jake rested his head in his hands, bent over on the couch seat. 

“I regretted it the moment I said it,” he whispered. “I really fucking did. I have no idea why I said it.” 

“You are an asshole,” you said quietly, slowly. Jake raised his eyes to your level. 

“But that’s not the end of the story.”

You closed your eyes for a second. “Go on, then.” 

“He punched me. And I fucked deserved it. I know that. He walked away and so did I. I went back to my apartment, changed, and tried to make myself presentable. Then I went to the bar. When I got there, Lana wasn’t there. I thought maybe she just had the night off, but one of the bar backs told me she went upstairs with some guy. I ran up the stairs and stormed inside and saw Bradshaw fucking her, right there on the floor. I ran in and pulled him off of her and he had the fucking gall to smirk at me. I started beating the shit out of him, and he somehow escaped. Put his clothes on and ran out the door.” 

Jake was wringing his hands together in his lap. Watching him relive the scene was difficult, but you held back. Stopped yourself from reaching out to him. Comforting him. 

You needed to know how the story ended. 

“I ran out after him into the street and we started to brawl. We were drawing attention. A lot of attention. Both of us realized it, but we couldn’t tear ourselves apart. Lana ran out and tried to stop us. Finally she managed to put herself between us. She shoved Bradley to the sidewalk and she had me by my collar. And then.” 

He stopped and you looked up. You had never seen Jake look the way he did in that moment. Like he had seen a ghost. “What happened?” you whispered. 

He shook his head, eyes darting side to side. “It happened in a second. One second I had my hands on Bradshaw. The next she was in between us, shoving us apart. And then she had her hands on me.” He touched the front of his own shirt for emphasis. “And then she was gone.” 

“What do you mean gone?” 

His voice cracked. “The car. It came out of nowhere. The way she was lying on the ground,” he shook his head, swallowing hard. “We both knew she was gone.”

You gasped and a hand flew to your mouth. 

Jake continued. “We couldn’t stay there. We couldn’t afford to get caught up in the police investigation. Not when we had our own mission against their government that we were just days away from. So we fled. Went back to the base, got the rest of the team drunk, made sure they remembered the night well enough that it was an alibi for both of us but just drunk enough that they couldn’t account for the time we had been missing. And we never went back to that bar. Just completed the mission and flew home.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered. “Jake.”

“I know.” He looked up at you with tears running out of the corner of his eyes. “I think about her every fucking day. It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault she’s dead.” 

“Stop. It’s not your fault,” you said quietly. “You didn’t push her.” 

“She was there because of me,” he said, breathing hard. “If I hadn’t been such a fucking hot head, I never would have pushed Bradshaw. She never would have gotten involved. If I had never stepped into that bar, she never would have met me. She would have been better off for it.” 

“You can’t think like that!” you said, reaching forward and grabbing his arm that he was bashing against the back of the couch repeatedly. “Stop it! It’s not your fault.” 

He fought your grip and you lunged forward, grabbing him by the upper arms. 

“Jake. Look at me. Fucking look at me.”

He looked up, green eyes flooded with tears, like an algae-filled lake in August. 

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Yes, I can,” he said stoically. “And I blame him, too.”

You finally understood. They had both done wrong. They were both in the wrong. But they were also in it together. They brought each other pain without ever having to say a word. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“I know I don’t have to say this, because it’s you. But what I just told you, nobody can ever know. Bradshaw and I, we’ll get fired. We’ll never get in a cockpit again. We’ll probably get extradited back.” 

“I would never tell,” you said. Jake wiped at his eyes. He looked weak. “Come here,” you said, scooting to the edge of the couch and patting your lap. He gave you a small smile before laying down on his side, head coming to rest on your lap. 

You threaded your fingers through his hair, gently, and watched his eyes flutter closed. His breath started to even out. You watched as he reached out and cupped your thigh with his hand, fingers resting gently on your skin. 

“I’m here for you,” you whispered, bending over and kissing the top of his head. “I promise.” 

***

“Abby, he’s burning the potatoes!”

“Oh fuck,” you said, running into the kitchen to see Jake next to a plume of smoke. “What are you doing in here? You know you’re banned from holiday cooking.” 

He smiled at you sheepishly before moving to the side. “I’m trying to help!”

You bumped his hip with yours. “Trying to make us all sick is more like it.” Looking down into the pot you saw that the mashed potatoes had somehow turned black around the edges. One glance told you that it was because the burners were on the highest setting. You flicked the red dial off and gave him a hard stare. “You’re supposed to take them OFF the heat after they’re boiled, dummy. What are you making, potato burnt ends?”

He sighed and shook his head. “OK fine, I fucked up. What do you need me to do?” 

“Start washing and peeling,” you said, scraping the burnt mess into a trash bag. “I’m going to teach you how to make edible mashed potatoes.” 

It was your first Thanksgiving away from home. Your parents had gone to Atlanta to see your sister and her new husband, and you had opted to spend it at Jake’s family’s ranch outside Austin instead. Jake had picked you up from the airport and when you got to his house his sisters had given you tight hugs, his mother had offered you a cookie, his father had carried your bags to Jake’s room. They felt like family in an instant. 

After hours in the kitchen, everyone settled in at the large dining room table, set for seven. Jake, his parents, his two sisters and their grandmother and you. 

“Jake, sweetheart, will you say a prayer?” his grandmother, who he called Meemaw, cooed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, taking your hand in his, as well as his sister’s next to him. “Dear God, thank you for this day. For our family. And this beautiful meal.” He squeezed your hand. “And thank you for bringing Abby here with us. We’re so lucky to have her. Amen.” You opened your eyes and caught Jake’s glance. He slid his arm around the back of your chair and leaned in, kissing your temple. You smiled and started to hand around the dish of green beans. 

Across the table, his mother smiled at him with a knowing look. 

Later, after all the dishes were clean, and all the leftovers were carefully wrapped, you sat outside by the fire with Jake’s sisters Sondra and Annie. The three of you had split a bottle of wine, and you were tipsy. 

“Why is this the first time Jake is bringing you home?” Annie asked, dangling the stemless wine glass she held in her left hand over the edge of the Adirondack chair. 

“I usually go home for the holidays,” you replied. “But they chose my sister this year. I don’t blame them. Not much fun to have Thanksgiving in a crowded Chestnut Hill apartment.” 

She shook her head. “No, I mean why has Jake been hiding you from us for so long!” 

You laughed. “I don’t know, ask him.” 

“He needs someone like you,” Sondra said, taking a sip of wine. They were both younger than you and Jake, but Sondra gave the illusion of someone five years older than she actually was. She had a regalness about her. Every move she made was both deliberate and delicate at the same time, whether it was tying a pair of shoelaces or decorating a cookie with frosting and precise piping. “You’re good for him.” 

“You know we’re not dating, right?” 

Sondra raised her eyebrows. “Yet.”

You simply smiled and took a sip of wine. A gust of wind burst through the woods, making the fire flicker and you shivered. A second later, you felt a warm blanket draping around your shoulders. 

“Here,” Jake said, tucking it around you. “Thought you might get cold.” 

“Thanks.” You looked up to see Sondra staring back with a raised eyebrow. 

“Where are our blankets?” Annie whined. 

Jake laughed. “Inside. In your rooms.”

“Woof, a girl can take a hint,” she said, getting up from the chair and stretching her long legs. “Come on, Sonds, let’s go see if there’s leftover pie in the fridge or if Moby Dick over there ate it all.” 

You laughed as Jake threw her a dirty look. Sondra and Annie grabbed the bottle of wine and their cups, heading back to the house. Jake pulled a wooden chair closer to yours, sunk down and stretched his feet out to the stone sides of the fire pit. 

“You’re going to melt your shoes,” you said. 

He shrugged. “Got more in the house.” 

“So this is home, huh?” You looked out at the expansive yard. The well manicured hedges, the stately house, the sprawling patio and deck system that climbed three stories. 

Jake took a sip of his drink, amber liquid in a rocks glass. “This is home,” he confirmed. 

“Your sisters want to know why you’ve never brought me here before.” 

“I don’t make a point of bringing girls home with me,” he answered. “Gets Ma and Meemaw too excited, and I hate to let them down.” 

“Oh yeah?” you whispered. “So what do they think about me?” 

“Darlin’,” he said, turning to you. “They fucking love you.” 

You blushed and stared into the fire. 

“I’m serious,” he said. “Ma even pulled me aside after clean up and said I was a damn fool if I let you go.” 

“Did you tell them we’re just friends?”

“Yup. That earned me a smack upside the head.” 

You tipped your head back and laughed. “God, I like her.” 

For a few moments, you and Jake stared at the fire. It danced in the breeze. For the first time, you were glad your parents had chosen Jenny over you this Thanksgiving. You found yourself secretly hoping you would get invited back to the Seresin house for Christmas. “I’m glad you’re here,” Jake said softly. “Don’t get to see you much anymore.”

You nodded. “I miss you. All the fucking time.” 

He reached out and grabbed your hand. “Me too.” 

You sat there, hand gripped in Jake’s, for you weren’t sure how long. You didn’t even realize, as comfortable as you were wrapped in the blanket he had slung around your shoulders, that you had fallen asleep. It wasn’t until you felt Jake’s arms sliding underneath you, cool air hitting the back of your thighs and neck, that you realized he had scooped you up out of the chair and into his arms. “Jake,” you murmured. 

“Shh,” he whispered as your head lolled into the space between his neck and shoulder. “It’s OK, I got you. Go back to sleep.”

You let him carry you across the yard, through the doors and the living room, up the grand staircase to his bedroom. Jake set you down carefully on the bed, removing the blanket he had placed on your shoulders and sliding you in under the covers. 

“Goodnight Bubs,” he whispered and you moaned, stretching out your hand. 

“Come back,” you said softly. He approached the bed and you tugged his hand. “Stay.” 

Jake had spent the previous night on the couch in his father’s office, letting you take full reign of his room. “Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded against the pillow, and he let out a breath, unzipping his jacket and kicking off his shoes before sliding into bed next to you. You reached out a hand and pulled his arm over your torso, pulling his fingers to your chest briefly before letting go. Jake settled in, spooning you as you sighed. 

“Missed you,” you whispered drowsily, sleep fogging up the edges of your consciousness. 

Jake slid his hand over your side before snaking over your stomach and tugging you in tighter to his chest. “I miss you all the time, Abs. Every day.” He could feel you giving in to sleep. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

In the morning, you woke up to an empty bed. You vaguely remembered pulling Jake into bed with you. How he had carried you all the way upstairs. How you had forced him to spoon you. You took a shower and got dressed, trying to shake the image out of your mind, padding softly on the stairs landing. 

Jake turned around the minute you entered the kitchen and a blush crept up your chest and onto your face. “Hey,” you muttered, stepping closer and looking around for a coffee mug.

“Hey,” he replied, turning over a piece of bacon on the stove. “Sleep OK?”

You nodded and he pointed to a cabinet where the coffee mugs were and you poured yourself a cup. “Yeah, fine.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He was standing at the stove in a pair of sweatpants and a Navy shirt, but he still looked like an Abercrombie model. You hated him for it. 

“Nothing.”

“Abby.” His voice was a warning. 

“I’m embarrassed, OK? I’m so fucking needy with you sometimes, it’s gross.” 

He flicked off the burner, pulled the pan away and deposited the perfectly cooked bacon strips onto a paper towel-lined plate before setting it aside. “Don’t worry about it,” Jake said.

You looked up at him over the coffee mug. “That’s it? Don’t worry about it?”

“It’s sweet!” he replied and you let you a giant sigh, burying your face in your hands. “Abs, come on. It’s me. You can be anything with me, you don’t have to try to hide.” 

You grabbed a piece of bacon and crunched down on it. “That’s the problem, though. We’re too comfortable. I need you too much.”

“How can you need someone too much?” He leaned against the counter, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Even when I’m in a relationship, you’re the first person I run to when things go wrong. I don’t know how to file a tax form, or the dishwasher is making a funny noise or I can’t decide who’s birthday party to skip.” You looked up at him and ran a finger through your wet hair. “I have to need you less. If I ever want to get on with my life.”

Jake nodded. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

You nodded and crossed the kitchen toward him, wrapped your hands around his torso and hugged him tightly. “Next time I call, don’t pick up.”

“Are you serious?”

Jake’s face was pure shock and you couldn’t help but laugh. He slowly realized you were joking, and his hands reached out immediately to pinch your waist. 

“Oh, you little shit,” he whispered as you continued to laugh. 

Finally, he dropped his arms and you smiled up at him. “But actually. I’m going to have to let you go just a little. And if you care about me, you’ll let me.”

He nodded, a crease building in his forehead. “OK. But come back to me when you’re ready.”

***

You had seen Bradley almost every day since he had showed up on your doorway in the middle of the night. 

And Jake, true to his word that he had given to you years ago at Thanksgiving, was trying to let you go when he saw how happy Bradley made you. He bit his tongue when you mentioned Rooster, and you skillfully avoided the topic of Diana entirely. 

Bradley took you surfing and helped you gently get back on the board when you repeatedly fell off. He introduced you to a BLT sandwich shop tucked into the corner of a business building, he sat with you while you graded exams. In turn, you visited him on base, spent nights at the Hard Deck drinking G&Ts with Natasha and smirking at Bradley showing off at the pool table while Jake sulked near the dart board. 

So when you had another late night of grading to do in your office, you weren’t surprised to see your phone light up with a text from Bradley. 

Late night? 

Yeah, you texted back. Seventy first–year exams to mark. Remind me never to do a 101 class again. 

So this means you’re totally occupied? 

What did you have in mind?

You put the phone down, staring as three bubbles appeared and then disappeared and a frown creased your face. What game was he playing?

Then you heard rustling out in the hallway, and light flooding in as the door creaked open. 

“Hey princess,” Bradley said, stepping inside. 

You stood up, greeting him with a kiss. It wasn’t the first time Bradley surprised you late at night in your office, and despite the thick stack of papers on your desk it was a welcome surprise. “Hey there,” you whispered back. 

“How urgent are those?” he asked, pointing to the papers. 

You shook your head. “They can wait.”

“Good.” His voice was low, almost a growl. In a second, he had you pinned against the desk, his hands feverishly on your breasts, lips sucking on your neck beneath your ear. You moaned into him and felt Bradley stiffen. “Who said you could do that?” he asked darkly and you looked up in surprise. 

“What?”

He reached around and grabbed your hair with a fist, yanking you to look him in the eyes. “You get to moan when I say so.”

Your eyes widened and you nodded. “Sorry, Lieutenant.” 

Your words went straight to his cock and you watched as he stiffened against his jeans. You had seen this side of Bradley before. He liked to dominate. He was sweet and kind and caring. And then you entered the bedroom and he was another person. Someone who took. It hadn’t come out the first time you slept together, or the second. But slowly, you understood what he needed. And you didn’t mind. You wanted to give him what he wanted. Because you knew after it all was done, you’d have him back. And he always gave you what you wanted in return. 

“Now take your clothes off.” He stepped back and you slowly started to unbutton your top. Bradley’s eyes raked over you. You pulled the ends out of your pencil skirt and tossed it onto the couch, leaving just a black lace bra. Reaching around, you unzipped the skirt, letting it slide to the floor before kicking it away. Standing in just heels and a bra and panties, you stepped forward. 

“Is this what you wanted, Lieutenant?”

“Lose the underwear and bra. Keep the shoes.” 

You nodded and slid off the panties, unhooked the bra until you were standing naked in the middle of your office. The lights were dim, but there was no guarantee people from outside couldn’t still see in. 

Bradley stepped forward and ran a calloused fingertip from your lip down your neck, across your chest and stomach, down to between your legs. You sucked in a gasp as he took two fingers and opened you up. You wanted so badly to shift forward, press against his hand for friction, but you knew that would get you in trouble. 

He pulled his fingers away and stepped closer until you were only inches apart. “You want me to make you feel good?” he whispered. 

You nodded. 

“Need to hear you say it.” 

“I want you to make me cum.” 

He reached out and pressed both hands to the tops of your shoulders, forcing you down onto your knees on the hardwood floor. “You have to earn it,” he said and you reached up, tugging at his zippered fly, yanking it down along with his pants and boxers. Bradley’s cock sprung out, already hard and leaking, and you wrapped your fingers around the thick base, licking him lightly at the swollen tip. He moaned as you took him into your mouth, a little at a time, bobbing your head up and down his massive length. 

Bradley reached down and threaded his fingers through your hair, helping guide your head. After a moment, you tilted forward, taking him all the way into the back of your throat and he gasped, hitching forward, one hand on the desk, the other still on you. You started to choke, saliva dripping out of the corners of your mouth, obscene gagging sounds filling the quiet room and you were sure they could be heard in the hallway too. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, combing your hair back with his fingers while he fucked into your mouth. You leaned back and watched him tower over you. 

Just when you thought you might actually choke, the heat of his cock in your mouth was almost too much, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. Bradley reached down and pulled you to standing, large thumb wiping under your lips. 

“You’re so dirty for me,” he murmured. You nodded and reached out for his shirt, undoing the buttons. Bradley shrugged it off, and kicked his pants and boxers out of the way, along with his shoes, and stepped in closer until your thighs were pressed against the edge of the desk, cutting into your flesh. He ran one hand up and cupped your breast, tweaking the nipple and you groaned, head thrown back. “You like when I tease you, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered. 

“Good,” he grunted and in a flash he grabbed you, spun you around and walked you ten steps forward until your front was pressed up against the glass window. It was dark outside, one faded streetlamp in the corner throwing a hazy circle of light. You pressed your hands out against the glass as Bradley leaned into your back, his warm chest rising and falling against your skin. You felt his fingers graze over your hips, his cock hard against you. Your breasts were smashed up against the glass. “Spread your legs.” You did as you were told. 

He reached down and plunged into you, not giving you time to adjust before he grabbed your hips with one hand, the other covering yours on the glass as he fucked into you. You screamed, and his hand came up to your mouth to shush you before returning to your hips. 

“Quiet,” he whispered darkly, snapping his hips into yours. “Be a good girl and let me fuck you up against the window. You like knowing that someone could look in and see us, don’t you? See how whiny you are. How fucking desperate you are to cum all over me.” 

You hung your head, pushing back against him and he dropped his hand from the window, putting both hands on your hips and thrusting harder. Moans fell from your mouth in song, strung together along with curses as Bradley groaned behind you. 

“Fuck, Bradley, I’m going to cum,” you moaned and he stilled. “Please, don’t stop.” Your voice was whiny and high pitched. 

One hand slid up your body, wrapped loosely around your throat. “Address me properly and I’ll let you.” 

“Please, Lieutenant,” you whispered and you felt him press into you again, the other hand coming down to your clit, thumb swirling and you started to see stars. “Please, fuck, please let me cum Lieutenant Bradshaw.” 

“Cum,” he growled in your ear and you broke apart, screaming and moaning until he pulled out of you. Your legs were shaky in the stilettos, and Bradley’s arm circled your waist, picking you up and setting you on the desk, your bare back cold against the wood. You looked up at him, cock still hard and dripping, as you recovered from the orgasm coursing through your body. 

“Thank you,” you sighed and he grabbed your legs, yanking them apart and pulling you to the edge of the table until you were almost hanging off. 

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart,” he said, lining up at your entrance and sinking into you again. You shuddered at how sensitive it was as he started to pump into you. “Now you have to let me get what I want.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered as his fingertips tightened against your thighs. 

He lifted your legs over his shoulders, bending you as he drilled in deeper, hands coming out to grope your breasts. Bradley grunted and you started to feel the familiar build of another orgasm rising inside of you. He lifted his eyes to yours, took in your expression, and grinned. “You like that, professor?” he asked, fucking you particularly deep and you yelped. 

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“You going to cum all over my cock again?” 

“Please,” you whined. He reached up and grabbed your ankles — you were still wearing the heels — and lifted your ass off of the desk until your back was arched. “Fuck, fuck, Lieutenant!” 

“Let me cum inside of you,” he commanded and you nodded, eyes closed, head turned to the side against the desk in ecstasy. 

“Yes, cum in me, please,” you begged, your high almost cresting, and you felt him speed up, swearing under his breath. 

“Fucking shit,” Bradley groaned, his grip on your ankles becoming unbearable. “Feel so fucking good and tight on my cock. Oh fuck…” he trailed off, and you felt his release inside of you just as you broke apart on him, shuddering as he slid out and placed you back on the desk, dropping your ankles gently. 

Bradley reached over to a Kleenex box, wiping himself off and offering you a few. You cleaned yourself up and sat up on the desk, legs still wide. 

He reached out and pressed a hand to your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. “You did so good for me,” he whispered and you blushed. “Come here.” He opened his arms and you pressed into him. He was warm, but the thin layer of sweat on both of your bodies had you shivering. 

Bradley let you go after a moment, slipping his pants back on and handing you your clothes. You kicked off the shoes and got dressed, sitting back in your office chair and picking up the papers that had fallen to the ground while you fucked on the desk. 

“I really do have a lot of grading to do,” you laughed and he gave a small smile before looking down at his shoes. You tilted your head. “Bradley? What is it?”

He looked up with a pained expression. “We got called up.” Your heart sank. “When?”

“Next week,” he said. 

“For how long?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure. They didn’t say.” 

“Who is we?” you whispered, already knowing the answer. 

“Me. Bob. Phoenix. Coyote. Payback. Fanboy.” He paused. “And Hangman.”

You rested your hands on your thighs, bending over a bit to get a deeper breath. 

“There’s more,” he said quietly and you looked up. 

“What do you mean?”

Bradley shuffled his feet before looking up at you, his sad chocolatey eyes meeting yours. “It’s dangerous, Abby. Really fucking dangerous.”

You felt like a knife had been plunged into your neck. This was the moment you had dreaded from the second Jake told you he was joining the Navy. It was the news you had always feared would one day come. “How dangerous?”

He shook his head. “No one has ever done anything like this before, babe. They don’t even know if it can be done.” 

A tear slipped out of your eye onto your lap. “What are you saying to me, Bradley?”

“I’m saying we might not come home from this one, sweetheart.” 

Your gaze lifted to meet his. You shook your head in denial. “No.” 

“Abby,” he said, rounding the corner of the desk and kneeling in front of where you sat on the office chair. Bradley took your hands in his. “Baby, look at me.” 

You could barely see him over the flood of tears on your lash line. 

“We don’t leave until Saturday. We still have time.” 

You squeezed his fingers. “No.”

“Honey,” he said and you heard a tremor in his voice. “Please don’t cry.” 

It was too late. You dissolved into tears and Bradley pulled you into his arms, the two of you sitting on the ground of your office, a heap of arms and legs and tears. 

His hands stroked your back as he whispered reassuringly into your ear. You should have been the one comforting him. Telling him it would be OK. 

But all you could do was close your eyes. And in the darkness, you watched as your future began to slip away. 

A/N: I promise we will circle back to the Asia mission in the next chapter! I wanted this chapter to give us some background about the tension between Jake and Bradley, as well as set the scene for the upcoming mission. Also to give a little more dimension to Bradley's character!

Tag list: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @blue-aconite @abaker74 @vir-tual @justanothermagicalsara @hiddleless @lexhalstead3 @stevieharringtongf @katiebby04 @clairedelarosa-blog @chiffondaydreams @evans-dejong @thechillingadventuresoftayla @hopefulinlove @teenwolf01 @emptyloverofmine @zablife @lgg5989 @tallrock35 @shanimallina87 @kkrenae @maggiedanikka @whateverbagman @marantha @materialgirl01 @percysaidnever @mandylove1000 

#jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake x oc

[book-place]

Annoying Partners

Warnings: violence, pain, gunshot wounds, fighting, guns, other weapons, cursing, (probably) badly translated Spanish from google, mentions of stitches, mentions of car accidents, loss of parents, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Jake Lockley x teen reader

Requests: Hi, I absolutely love your Moon Knight works! I was wondering if you could do a fic with Marc/Jake x Teen!Reader with 12, 22 and 33 from the dialogue prompts?

i was just hoping to request him w 9 and 19 from your dialogue prompt list?? teen reader whom is his daughter and they’re super close, maybe she’s a vigilante on her own or even an avatar herself and she gets really badly hurt, heavy w the angst if you don’t mind and feel free to end it however you want :)

Jake Lockley with teen reader

How about Jake lockley x platonic teen reader, the reader be either a daughter or something along that line? Jake is very soft with the kid

Requests by: @thekaibabes @rabbitfxxdinsxmniac @tripleabattery

*not my gif*

Summary: When you become a new vigilante, you and Jake are quickly assumed to be ‘partners’. That annoyed you both to no end

A/N: The bolded words are the writing prompts and the translation of Spanish words

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“What took you so long?” Jake Lockley grunted, not even turning around to face you.

With a small, frustrated sigh, you moved to stand next to him, overlooking the city from the top of the building, “I got caught up in a robbery.”

The topic wasn’t pushed any further.

The crisp air hit you like a speed train, biting at the little parts of your skin that were exposed to the night. And though the wind was strong, there were no clouds in sight that might have suggested an upcoming storm. In fact, it was one of the clearest nights in a you had seen in a long time with not a cloud in sight, instead replaced by hundreds of twinkling stars.

It really was beautiful.

And as much as you would like to sit there all night stargazing, you had more pressing matters at hand. Keeping the city of Cairo safe from the crime that came alive in the nighttime.

Just over a month ago, you had come to the realization that you could do more, be more, and help the people of your now dangerous city.

From a very young age, your parents had put you in all kinds of self defense and fighting classes. Neither of them were idiots, they knew the rate of crime was climbing astronomically. They had wanted their only daughter to be able to look after herself, even if they weren’t around anymore.

It turned out that they had been right to have their concerns, because just over a year ago, they had gotten into a car crash and didn’t make it. And though you were absolutely devastated, you were able to hold your own in the world, just like they had wanted you to be able to.

And until recently, you hadn’t really known just how much use it could come in.

You had been walking back to the home of your kind, temporary foster family after a long day of working at a small nearby shop, when you had heard a scream coming from an alley you were in the process of walking past.

Unlike a normal person, you had taken off running in that direction, ignoring the hammering of your heart that sounded through your ears, wide eyes whipping around the small space.

Your vision had landed on the sight of a woman sobbing in a brick corner with a man standing barely a couple inches away, waving a gun in front of her face while there was a sneer on his.

Looking back now, you didn’t actually remember any thoughts running through your head as you silenced your footsteps, and quickly creeped over to the man, using the element of surprise to help you accomplish a goal you didn’t even know you had.

While he still was yet to see you, you spun around, lifting your leg up and with all your force kicking the loosely gripped gun out of his outstretched hand.

“What the-“ He had said, head snapped over to you so fast you were sure that he was supposed to get whiplash.

But you hadn’t even let him finish his sentence as you quickly brought your leg back down, instead, lifting only your knee up and hitting him where it hurt. Bad.

When he was collapsing to the ground, it was as if you were seeing it in slow motion as you reared your arm back and struck him straight in the jaw, successfully knocking him unconscious.

The woman had begun sobbing for a new reason, throwing herself into your arms and thanking you profoundly, not even caring that you were a teenager who just knocked out a fully grown man.

And then suddenly, all of that training, everything you had learned, finally seemed to mean something. And for once, you saw it in a new light. A glorious, savior-like light.

Not long after, you had begun to hatch a plan about following in the steps of the handful of people in the world who rose above all else to help protect the planet.

People like the avengers.

But you also knew that there were some of them- like Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Iron Man- who didn’t even have powers, but were still able to help people nonetheless.

You aspired to be like them.

On your first night of patrol though, you had caught a man- Jakes- attention. He had noticed your slightly sloppy form as you tried to stop a shoplifter, and intervened to help the process go faster.

Right after, you had snapped at him, telling him off and that he had no right to do it.

His eyes narrowed and zeroed in on you. And though you had a pretty good outfit and disguise, the sound of your voice told him that you were only a kid- not even over twenty.

After that night, it seemed that you ran into each other constantly, making the city the two of you shared seem smaller, and it eventually caught people's attention, dubbing the two of you as partners right away.

Both of you had resented the idea at first, barely able to stand each other, but it slowly grew on you- the title of parenters and the thought of having one to watch your back- and pretty soon the two of you weren’t dreading every time you would see one another.

In fact, you both grew quite close. Without sharing your identities, obviously. And keeping up your playful banter, neither of you willing to admit that you cared for the other.

He finally looked over at you, and his eyebrows rose beneath his mask, “Wow, you look terrible.” He said, as unhelpful as ever.

You felt yourself rolling your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in irritation, “Gee, thanks. That’s just what I needed after being beaten up by a bunch of goons before I was finally able to kick their asses.”

After close observation, Jake finally noticed the way you were favoring putting all your weight on your right foot instead of your left, and that there was a tear in the sleeve of your suit, dried blood forming around it.

His body quickly turned to yours, gently taking the injured arm in his hands, not missing the way you flinched slightly, “Do I need to beat someone up?” He asked in all seriousness.

You let out a slight chuckle, you knew it was his way of asking if you were okay.

You shook your head as you laughed, “Not unless you plan on going to visit the prison where those men were just sent.”

As you examined the wound for the first time, you missed the way his jaw ticked, and didn’t quite hear when he mumbled, “Don’t test me.”

With a huff, you pulled your arm out of his grip once you deemed it to be fine without stitches- for a little while longer at least, “It’s fine. I’m fine.” You said, almost absentmindedly.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You know that, right?” You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. You couldn’t see the way his eyes were burning into yours as he asked. You didn’t understand that he actually cared.

When you couldn’t decide if there was a joking tone in his voice, you let out a mix between a scoff and a laugh and opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of an explosion cut you off.

Both of your heads quickly snapped to face behind you, and looks of horrors automatically became like permanent masks on your faces.

Without another second's hesitation, you both took off in the direction, not even needing to communicate to understand what the other was thinking.

Due to the buildings closenesses to each other, you were both easily able to leap from building to building, never breaking your fast moving pace to look down and feel the height you were at to get to and frighten you.

The familiar feel of adrenaline began to kick into your body, dulling all of the former pain from your previous fight, but you weren’t stupid enough to think that it went away completely. The feeling surged through your veins in a way that woke you up with a jolt and no longer did you feel tired for staying up until four in the morning the night before.

With the speed that the two of you were going at, it didn’t take you long to reach the warehouse on the outskirts of the city that had been blown up, but everything was already in chaos.

People stood around the rubble, some covered in soot and ash, others in burn marks, but all of them were shooting at each other, screaming bloody murder as if it were a war cry.

It was two rival gangs. It dawned upon you when you saw differing tattoos on people's necks and how some helped each other while shooting at everyone else.

You could only hope and pray that no innocent people had been caught inside the building moments ago, or outside of it now.

There were only two men who weren’t fighting with guns, and they stood in the very center of all the other fighting, honestly surprising you that they weren’t getting shot with the bullets that were raining down like a storm every which way.

They were fighting tooth and nail the old fashioned way, taking turns punching each other in the face and kicking them in the stomachs.

They had to be the leaders.

With one glance at Jake, you knew you were both thinking the same thing. And without a word, you both dove into action.

You went to the closest man that was aiming his gun at another, and took two batons out of a holder on a belt around your waist, smacking him across the back of the head once and watching him fall to a heap on the ground.

Making sure your mask was still securely tightened around your face you moved onto the next person. And the next. Dodging bullets as if you were fast enough to do so, when in reality you weren’t. These people were just really lousy shots.

Hitting another woman across the face, you watched as she leaned back with a cry, but didn’t go down.

Instead, she reached for a blade you didn’t realize she had, and with blind range began making furious swipes at you as you kept jumping back, doing your best to stay out of her reach. Then, you swept your leg under hers as she went to jump forward, making her tumble backwards and hit her head on her way down.

“Nice try, gillipollas.” You used a word you had heard Jake say to a thief once, you assumed it was bad, peering down at her closed eyes, not caring if you butchered the pronunciation.

(Asshole)

By now, Jake had knocked down just as many people as you, and there were only a handful left, including the two leaders that had halted their fighting to stare at you and your partner.

The two men exchanged a look, seeming to come to the understanding that they had bigger enemies then each other right now, and they had to focus all of their- however little there now was- strength on the new threat.

You almost laughed at how stupid it was, when the signal was given to attack the two of you.

They didn’t even last a full sixty seconds.

Then it was just you two and the two leaders left.

“Well,” One of them, the shorter and balder of the two, said, spreading his arms out as if waiting for a large hug, “It appears that we have come to a bit of a predicament.”

“A bit?” You couldn’t tell if Jake's voice held amusement or irritation.

“But let me make this clear to you,” The man continued as if he didn’t even hear him, “You have made a mistake crossing paths with us today.”

For the first time since that first woman you had saved, you saw everything in slow motion.

You saw both of the men slowly take out their guns and raise them at you and Jake, who were both defenseless to their deadly weapons, and before they could fire, you picked up your own weapons. With as much force and accuracy as you could muster, you let out a small cry as you threw your batons straight at the men, hitting each of them in the head before they both fell down just like the rest of them.

Then, everything was back to normal speed as you fell to the ground, collapsing ungracefully into a panting and sweating heap.

You hadn’t even heard the gun go off.

Without comprehending Jake scrambling down to kneel beside you, you looked down at your torso in curiosity, watching as scarlet red slowly began to spread along your outfit, as if someone spilled a glass of cranberry juice on it.

Your eyes finally found their way up to the man, realizing and caring for the first time that you never actually knew his name, just the name he was given when he put on the mask.

For some reason, that thought made the corner of your lips pull down into a frown that didn’t go away as your eyes began to droop.

You were so, so tired.

All of the adrenaline was draining out of your system like a busted pipe, and the pain began spreading in the place of it, replacing every relaxed part of you with the pain of thousands of knives driving in through your flesh.

It just made you want to sleep away the pain, make it go away as you dreamed of happier times. When your parents were still alive and you were all one happy family.

“¡Eh! ¡Eh!” He exclaimed, lightly but firmly tapping the side of your face as your eyelids tried to slip shut, “Keep your eyes open. We did it, we won. Just keep your eyes open and we can celebrate.” As he told you, his head whipped aimlessly around for help, though he knew that the only people around were unconscious on the floor.

(Hey! Hey!)

How so very badly he wanted to march over to the man who managed to shoot you before you hit, and show him a glimpse of the pain you were feeling, but he knew that at the moment you needed him. For now, other pathetic human being could wait.

He supposed that’s why he found your head cradled in his lap as he pushed your hair out of your face gently, poking you annoyingly as needed to keep you awake.

An ambulance as well as the police and fire department had been called to help out with everything, but you were Jake's first priority. So as soon as they got there, he would see to it that you were theirs as well.

“Can we get ice cream to celebrate?” You slurred, blinking up at the man slowly.

He let out a watery chuckle, refusing to let any stupid tears stray down his face as he looked down at your vulnerable form. In all his time of knowing you, no matter how hard you were hit, you always got up again and brushed it off. It was one of the things he admired most about you.

But something deep down inside him, something that screamed ‘dark’ and ‘hopelessness’ told him that it wouldn’t be like that this time. And he refused to accept that.

“Hey,” Your hand reached up to loosely grab his wrist, and his eyes were once again on you, “…I know that I can be a… pain in the ass sometimes.” Sirens were finally heard in the far distance, “But thank you for putting up with me… thanks for being my partner, even if you didn’t want to be.”

The man firmly shook his head, it was getting harder and harder to keep his emotions at bay, “Why am I getting the feeling that you’re trying to say goodbye?” His voice was soft, broken, “No adiós, none of that.” He sternly commanded.

(Bye)

A slow and pained chuckle left you.

The sirens were so close now.

“It was nice knowing you, no matter how annoying you can be sometimes.”

And just like that, your eyes closed, finally allowing the welcoming darkness to swallow you whole, looking for the peace that it would bring.

Jake panicked, lightly slapping your face again, and when you didn’t stir he quickly placed two fingers to the side of your throat.

There was no pulse.

Like A Bee 🐝- @ip747 @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @jvdethirlwall

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #marvel #mcu #teen reader #mcu x reader #moon knight #jake lockley x reader platonic #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x teen!reader #mk x reader #mk imagine #mk #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

[stuntgirlatthevampiremansion]

Kai headcanons

I got tagged by the lovely @imacrowcawcaw to make this super fun tag. Thx lulu

Game rules: if you were to write a character summary (and/or headcanons) about yourself, what would it sound like?

Get ready for a sea of fake deep shit bc I’m a hoe. A pretentious hoe disguised as an “i hate pretentiousness” hoe

Bad liar and chronic oversharer (but likes to pretend shes so mysterious)

She is not ugly by any means, but she would not consider herself ✨beautiful✨. You are more likely to be struck by her vibe than her looks, she doesn’t mind that. She has a rock n roll heart, and belongs to sleepless nights.

Her hair is finally mid-length, for some reason she rocks the middle part. It is wavy, dark brown, and her ends are dyed blue—she thinks it gives her an edge. Like her hair, her eyes are of pure chocolate, the color of fertile earth, and very intense. Not long ago she felt boring; brown hair, brown eyes, milk coffee brown skin, but time has shown her to love it.

She speaks English with barely an accent because she bullied herself into losing it when young, now her English voice sounds different. If she speaks it for a prolonged time it begins to show, it is like acting in a play, it hurts her throat and tires her out. This is why she prefers to sing in Spanish, it lets her use her “real voice”. She’ll mix fancy words with fucked up speech like its nothing.

She has a thing for musicians. and she wishes she could play guitar but it scares her to learn; her favorite thing to do is sing but she will not admit she tries.

Her style is self-describes as “artsy-goth, yes i like alt rock” and she probably secretly kins David bowie. A sucker for 70s-90s style, art, and music culture.

Loves days at the beach and impromptu dance parties. Fun is the #1 priority, along with good music and mental stimulation

Prejudice is the stupidest thing in her eyes, she judges only by what she knows, and no quirk would make her think les of someone. Her goal is to make her friends feel comfortable with being weird around her. Justice and empathy are very important to her, and the only way she judges harshly is if someone lacks humanity or is prejudiced. feminist and will volunteer and attend protests whenever she can.

purple girl. all that she is is purple. She feels purple deep within her; mysterious, unknown, the same purple of the dark side of the moon. She dreams of space and extraordinary things; is in love with the ocean and space, the universe resides in her and the ocean waves roar around her. Shell say shell show you her home and take you to the beach. Though she cannot reach that which calls her, she creates her own universe with an paintbrush and a swift hand. She is pretentious enough to write that down and post it online

Halloween enthusiast.

Never has she felt like she belonged or connected with anyone, and its not a curse, she just has to belong to herself that much more. She loves her friends but still thinks she doesn’t feel things as she should. Doesn’t have a person she clicks or can connect with, but it is okay. She still enjoys moments with her friends and is as attentive and good a friend as she can be.

On the other hand she is loud, ridiculous, and irresponsibly funny at times. She has been described as a sober drunk/stoner by friends. Kinda gross but for comedic purposes, can make up funny punchlines at the moment like its her job (but it has to come naturally). Touchy/flirty friend. Dancing and singing, doing stupid things for the thrill, and deep/borderline stupid conversation will always be a YES. Laughs at inappropriate times, and jokes when she should be serious.

While honesty and justice are her mantra, she finds it hard to express or even connect with her emotions sometimes, its easy for her to shut them out when it suits her and feels nothing for extended periods of time. Uses comedy to cope, it works.

She does not believe in god, but she loves astrology. Aquarius is her sun, that’s all i can say. Her description of what she believes in sounds strangely similar to The Force in Star Wars; she is aware, it wasn’t on purpose. 

connecting with people fuels her. She hates being online, prefers to get lost. Its safe to say she is funny and has vast knowledge about varying topics; for this she loves to always have something to contribute to every conversation.

The way to get to her is to engage her in discussion (about art, music, the universe, humanity) and keep her thread going, she loves to hear and explore different topics with people.

But not always, sometimes its better to dig at and make fun of each other, good conversation can get boring.

She is an artist, that is plain. You’ll feel her art before she has even mentioned it. Her hands and thighs are always stained with different colors; she smells faintly of paint, wood, and paper; and her eyes are always searching, imagining. art is reflected in everything bout her, the way that she acts, how she talks... She uses any medium se can get, and if she does not know how shell learn. Sometimes creation is the only thing that she desires in life. 

Despite all that serious bullshit above, shes not. shes incredibly goofy, laid back, and fun, loves going with spontaneous ideas that can sometimes be a bit dangerous, and wishes to know all about the strange and unusual parts of people. She is someone you can be open with. Shell jump at any chance of adventure, you can run away with her anytime you want.

Tagging: @safari-karrot @satans-helper @thejujuhound @turquoisehairedgirl @silver--storms @v-i-d-e-n-o-i-r @thenewagecrisis @jake-kardashian @moonchildwildheart @love-philautia if you wanna

#i got tagged #im sorry for being a pretentious hoe #‘she belongs to the sea and stars’ WHO THE HELL SAYS THAT #THIS MORNING ME APPARENTLY #what a hoe #Kai writes

[scgdoeswhat]

20 Years Later

Prompt:  Round 43 of #ChoicesCreates: 20 Years Later, hosted by @dopecatcollins and @theroyalwreck.

Summary:  Jake reflects on his own life and his decisions that have brought him to this point, 20 years after escaping La Huerta. (Jake x F!MC)

Rating:  PG-13 (Primarily swearing)

Words: 1,613

Author’s Notes:  This turned out to be more of a character study of Jake and it completely deviated from the original outline I had planned.  This is also my first fic for Endless Summer (and Choices, in general) so I hope I did the characters justice.  No Beta used. Jake and co. belong to Pixelberry, while OCs, some backstory, and plot belong to me.  Thanks for reading and I’d love to hear your feedback!  

Jake McKenzie walked out of his beachfront shack and towards his hammock, beer in hand, ready to relax and do absolutely nothing on his day off.  It had been 20 years since the asinine and unexplainable events of La Huerta.  Time had slowly helped him cope with his emotional scars, though deep down, he knew it was more the whiskey and beer that helped numb everything so he could live.

“Live?” He scoffed. “Fuck that, more like barely survive,” he said to himself while taking a swig of the bottle of beer.

And survive he had. It’s what he was good at.  In those years on the run prior to that fateful charter to La Huerta, he somehow was able to lay low in Costa Rica, procuring odd jobs without putting himself on the map.  This was how he met his pseudo-boss, Manuel, who needed someone to help man a boat after his original worker could not make it that day for one reason or another. Jake had been on the docks, waiting for any opportunity, when he heard Manuel cursing up a storm about losing a couple grand because of that puta madre. That day on the docks started a fruitful partnership that allowed him to obtain Delilah and he was always thankful for the friendship, not to mention Manuel’s lack of questioning over his past.

“‘La Huerta, was it really 20 years ago?’” he thought, eyes looking out over the sparkling ocean.

Ironically, time for Jake meant almost nothing to him these days. Days blended into weeks, weeks into months… hell, he didn’t even know what date it was.  He just knew when to come in and earn his pay check.

Apparently the time spent on that damn island didn’t mean much to the outside world either.  While he and the rest of the group were busy bouncing around the space-time continuum, fighting sea monsters, and altogether not trying to get killed, one week had passed by the time he returned to Costa Rica. One whole fucking week.

Jake chugged the rest of his beer as he reflected, dropping the empty bottle into the sand.  It was going to be one of those days.

“Good thing I brought out the fresh bottle of Jack,” he mused, allowing himself to drown in the memories.

He closed his eyes and the first thing that entered his mind was Her. His Princess.  The way she sauntered into his life, commanding his attention and respect. The way her smile lit up the whole room. The way her eyes lit up whenever she looked at him.  It felt like a lifetime ago.  In reality, it was.

His eyes squinted open, frowning as he blindly felt for the bottle underneath the hammock.  Unscrewing the cap, he took a big gulp of the amber liquid, relishing the masochistic burn down his throat, not unlike the memories that burned into his mind.

Jake had loved her.  Who was he kidding?  He still did.  They were soulmates. He never believed in such foolishness until she walked into his cockpit.  He initially wrote it off as a passing fancy. Who wouldn’t have wanted her?  She was a smoking hot, barely legal college co-ed with a mouth on her.

He smirked, “’What a mouth, indeed.’”

As much as he loved the carnal nature of their relationship, it went far beyond the intense physical attraction.  He didn’t know how or when it happened, but she had broken down his walls and firmly planted herself in his heart.  He loved her so much that he knew he had no business being with someone so amazing. There was nothing he could offer her.  A life on the run?  Always hiding and looking behind their backs?  That was no life.  It would have been a prison for her and he couldn’t be the one responsible if something happened.

So Jake did what he did best.  He ran. After the group escaped the island, they found themselves, much to his luck, in Cuba.  He told her he was still wanted and couldn’t go back, especially now that Lundgren was MIA.  He wanted her to finish her degree; to make a life for herself.  She told him he was her life.

He remembered grabbing her after she said that, kissing her passionately and pouring every emotion he had into it.  They made love – multiple times – that night while waiting for the US authorities to gain clearance in order to pick them up.

It was the cowardly way out, he knew, leaving in the middle of the night. If he had stayed, there was no way he would have been able to say no to her.  He had somehow been able to contact his boss and thanks to a few favors called in, he was on his way back to Costa Rica before she would even wake up.

That was the last time he saw her or anyone from the group, aside from that one time 15 years ago when Estela (how the hell did she find him anyway) searched him out, only to call him weak and a bastard for leaving Her in that manner.  He had nothing to say except that she was right.  Estela never bothered him after that.

He kept tabs on the group periodically through years:  Sean went on to have a hall of fame NFL career, all the while with Michelle by his side.  She wasn’t just a trophy wife, either, as she completed medical school and residency from Stanford.  Craig and Zahra went on to be reality stars (total wtf), winning globe-trotting, adventure seeking shows with Craig’s “Chyeah!” becoming a pop culture phenomenon. Raj became a heralded celebrity chef, with his own show and slew of restaurants.

Aleister proved that he wasn’t the dick that betrayed them on the island. He was a silent donor to many philanthropic causes, dismantling Rourke Enterprises in the process.  There was no need to worry financially anyway, as Grace was even more successful than her mother.  Last he heard of Diego, he was able to use some “discarded” technology from Aleister and Grace that allowed him to be with Varyyn.  (Hell if he even began to try and understand how that worked.) Quinn became a successful author, writing fantastical tales about a group of kids stranded on an island, including a girl who became possessed through the island’s power.

Jake waited to see what his Princess was going to do to shake up the world. She graduated… and nothing.  It wasn’t until a couple months after Estela found him that something finally popped up.

“Delacroix Heir Surprise Wedding.”

His mind went numb at the memory of finding out she married some Richie Rich, stick up his ass, wannabe actor, trust fund baby who lived off of daddy’s money. At the time, he couldn’t stop himself from reading the blurb on whatever stupid blog site.  The post detailed the elopement as best as it could, but more importantly, had a picture of the happy couple.  He stared at the photograph. She was as gorgeous as ever, wearing some expensive Italian designer’s strapless number.

Her face told a different story.  She held a smile, sure, but he saw it never reached her eyes.  Or did it?  Maybe his eyes were just interpreting the picture into what he wanted to believe.  It didn’t matter anyway.  He lost any right or claim to her the night he left.  He stopped keeping tabs on everyone after that.

“’It was for the best.  That guy’s been able to give her the life she deserved to have,’” he thought to himself, taking another drink.  He closed his eyes, drifting off to an uneasy slumber, nowhere near as drunk as he would have liked to have been.

Jake is awakened some time later (one hour, two hours?  Who the fuck knows?) by the sound of someone yelling.

“¡Oye, Lobo!”

The half-asleep man rubs his eyes as he sits up groggily.

“¡LOBO!  ¿Dónde estás?”

“Manny, calmate.  I’m over here.  What’s up?”

“’What’s up…?’ Ayyy…” Manuel starts rapidly muttering in Spanish under his breath, with Jake barely making out a few words, including puta and mierda. The Costa Rican man takes a deep breath, glaring at the best pilot he’s ever had on staff.

“Where’s your mobile.  I’ve been calling you for the last hour.  Ricky esta enfermo.  Necesitas que trabajar hoy.”

“Manny.  It’s my day off.  Come on, man.”

“Lo siento, Lobo.  Big money today.  I’ll give you cincuenta por ciento.  She’s paying $10,000 for basic scenic shit.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened after doing the quick math. $5,000 would go a long way.  He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.  What time?”

“Una hora,” Manuel smiled as he continued, “la chica es muy linda tambien, go clean yourself up, cabrón. Cuando fue la ultima vez que tuviste la concha?”

Jake flicked him off as he went into his place, hearing his boss’ laugh reverberating through the open air.

“’I guess there’s a reason why I didn’t get stinkin’ drunk today,’” Jake contemplated. “Few grand for a couple hours work ain’t bad at all.

He walked towards the helipad, spotting a solitary figure close to the helicopter… and what a nice figure it was.  She had these long and smooth legs, a nice ass, trim waist, with hair that cascaded down her back.  She looked deep in thought and didn’t hear him approach.

“Excuse me, miss?”  He turned on the charm as he addressed her. “Hi, I’ll be your pilot today. I’m – “

She whipped around, but the world had gone into slow motion for him.

“Jake???”

“Princess???”

FIN.

#jake mckenzie #jake x mc #endless summer fanfic #jake mckenzie fanfic #choices fanfiction #endless summer #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfic #choicescreates #fanfic #choicescreates43 #scg writes

[neverending2012]

My Journey to You Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

SUMMARY: Rachel has a birthday party and connects with Finn. LaTonya and Cooper face issues in their relationship.

RATING: Mature. Sexual situations. Mild cursing.

NOTES: I hope you enjoy this chapter!

LUCKY

Sam pushed the shopping cart down the baking and spices aisle in the Super Fresh supermarket; while Jake cried as he sat in the flip-up child seat in the front of the cart because Sam wouldn't let him pull the jars of honey off the shelf. Jake's face turned red and he let out a helter-skelter scream at the injustice of being denied the right to grab jars of honey; he slammed his little fists against the shopping cart handle, shaking his head, while his straight black hair stuck up every which way; his red denim overalls were stained with apple juice due to a mishap during the car ride to the market. Needless to say, it wasn't a great start to their day.

"Jacob Blue Hummel, that's enough," Sam said glaring down at his son, whose brown eyes were exactly like his mother's from their doe shape to that special sparkle in them when he laughed or smiled. He was Mercedes' son all the way, except for his creamy pale skin and straight hair, which Sam figured came from him.

"No!" Jake said, still crying, "Honey!"

Sam sighed. People were starting to look at them. He remembered when he was single and childless, and how he would judge the parents whose kids as Aunt Josephine would say, "act a fool" in the grocery store and throw tantrums. He was the ringleader of the eye-roll and dirty look whenever a child went into brat mode in the middle of a store. Now, as they say, karma is a bitch, because all those disapproving looks and silent judgments he doled out in his single days were now royally biting him in the ass.

A brunette who looked to be in her late 50s with a frumpy figure, and wore a rhinestone studded denim jacket, shook her head at them in disgust as she picked up few boxes of baking soda; and another man, in a baseball cap, with a mountain man beard that reached his stomach, sucked his teeth and said "Shit, that kid's loud," under his breath.

Sam wasn't going to let their remarks take his focus away from his son.

"Jake, do you want a time out?"

Then someone touched his shoulder. It was an old Latina woman, she had a wooden cane, and her dark eyes shined from behind her glasses that were connected to a silver chain around her neck.

She spoke in Spanish to Sam, who had no idea what she was saying; but the sound of her voice was soothing, and Jake stopped crying and stared at her. She then patted Jake on the head, making sweet little sounds with her tongue and smiling; she reached into her purse and handed him a small red rubber ball that you got out of those cheap toy vending machines, and put it in Jake's chubby little hands. Patting him on the head once more, she walked away, waving good-bye. Then Sam called out after her:

"Gracias!"

That was the only Spanish he knew. Whatever the woman said to Jake worked because he calmed down, clutching the box of cookies. Sam took a pack of tissues out of his jacket pocket and wiped Jake's tear stained face. Soon, his son was smiling at him. Whatever storm they were in had passed. He kissed the top of Jake's head.

"We need to finish shopping, so we can meet your Mom and Rosy at the check out line."

Jake opened his arms, gazing up at his father.

"You want a hug?" Sam asked him.

Jake nodded.

Sam picked up his son and hugged him close, then spun around in the middle of the aisle, laughing, and Jake laughed with him.

"Love you!" Jake shouted.

Sam kissed his fat little cheeks.

"Love you, too."

He put him back in the child-seat and began getting the items on his list with new vigor. Jake would point to things, but no longer demanded them. When they were finished getting everything, they went to the check out line where Mercedes was waiting with Rosy. She was talking to their daughter and laughing, her hair was braided in one long braid and she wore sneakers and blue sweats; and Rosy daughter was smiling up at her, clapping her hands, and all Sam could think was: "Damn, I'm lucky."

They were both so beautiful to him. He wheeled up his cart next to hers and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him, he kissed her wonderfully plump lips that tasted like vanilla lip-gloss and a chai latte, and he could feel her standing on her tiptoes.

"Wow," she said, smiling at him, "What was that for?"

"I love you. I love our kids. I love our life. That's what that is for."

"I feel the same way," she said.

Rosy clapped her hands.

"Da!"

Sam picked her up and hugged and kissed her, smelling the coconut oil on her hair, and rubbing her soft cheek against his.

"Hey, Miss Pretty," he said.

After he put her back in the child seat, they began loading the groceries onto the conveyer belt. When they had checked out, they made their out to the parking lot, unloaded the groceries into the SUV and started their journey home.

During the drive home, Mercedes said to Sam:

"I hope tonight goes well."

"Me too," Sam said, as he changed lanes, "I hope Rachel enjoys it."

"She should. It was all her idea."

"Yeah."

Rachel had asked for a small birthday party even though her birthday wasn't for another six months; nobody questioned why because they knew why, instead they focused on the party. She didn't want any gifts, but everyone had to wear white. It was going to take place late that night because Rachel wanted to watch the Perseids meteor shower that was scheduled to begin at about 11:00 pm. And she made one other request: Nobody could cry. Sam wasn't sure if he could follow through with that, but he would give it his best shot, after all it was her party.

"How are you and Finn doing?" Mercedes asked him.

Sam took a deep breath while getting off the freeway to take the exit home.

"Much better. Finn's opening up to me again. We feel more like brothers."

"I'm glad."

"So am I. I missed him."

"I know, sweetie," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

Sam felt a warmth spread through him at her touch.

"Schätzchen?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for being so great about all of this. I mean we just had Rosy and Jake, getting our new house, and all and then this happens and you've been so kind and so amazing through everything. Thank you. I appreciate everything you've done."

"Sam, I love them too. I can't imagine how any of them are feeling. They're not just your family. They're our family and I'm glad we can help them."

Sam picked up her hand and kissed it.

"God blessed me twice over when he sent you to me."

Mercedes got teary-eyed and she squeezed his hand once again.

TODAY I LIVED

Everyone sat around the outdoor fire pit in the back yard, the light from the orange flames, flickering on their faces. Stars sparkled in the black velvet sky. The breeze was cool, carrying the fragrance of the wild evening primroses, their scent reminiscent of springtime with earthy, spicy undertones. Crickets and cicadas chirped, adding to the night sound landscape; their distinct song echoing through the yard. When they bought the house, Mercedes was surprised that Sam wanted to have a fire pit built, but now she was glad that they had.

It was round and made of cathedral gray granite stones, and it was surrounded by a circular stone floor, which they placed their patio chairs around. Rachel was lying on the outdoor recliner, her feet elevated, her toes were painted rose red. She wore a long, white sundress, made of delicate woven lace, her wig was sleek and shiny; teardrop diamond earrings dangled from her ears, twinkling in the firelight; and red lipstick coated her lips. And per Rachel's request, everyone wore white, Mercedes thought that the request was odd, and even joked that she must think that she was Sean Combs throwing his annual Labor Day party, but Rachel never gave her reason; only that she thought it was peaceful and serene. Mercedes admitted that it was calming: seeing the bold white in the glowing firelight.

Everyone was enjoying a piece of the three-layer strawberry birthday cake that Sam had baked; it was fluffy and light, and had sweet strawberry filling between each layer, and frosted with strawberry buttercream frosting. They balanced the plates on their laps as they ate, talking and joking with one another.

Finn was beside Rachel, assisting her when needed, as she ate tiny bites of cake, her face more alive than usual. The neuropsychologist had given her memory exercises that helped a lot with her chemo brain, and she took herbal supplements that Sean found for her online. Both tactics improved her memory.

Matt, Lucy, and Abby sat on the other side of Finn. Matt was in a white button down shirt and shorts; while Lucy and Abby wore matching white sundresses and white satin headbands on their hair. Hiram and Sean sat beside Sam and Mercedes, sipping on club soda and taking small bites of cake; their faces solemn, their white linen suits reminded Mercedes of lawn parties where people played croquet and ate watercress sandwiches.

Finally, after everyone was finished eating, Rachel tapped her fork against her wine glass to get everyone's attention. When the chatter quieted down she said:

"Thank you for giving me my party. I have something for all of you. I wrote each of you a letter. I want you to read them in private."

Finn got up from his chair and handed everyone a white sealed envelope with everyone's name written in metallic gold ink across each one. After the letters were handed out, she unfolded a piece of notebook paper and said:

"I want to tell you about how good today was for me, so I wrote every thing down." Then she began to read aloud:

"I'm happy tonight. I ate a wonderful French meal that took me back to my Paris years with Aba and Pop, when I wore plaid skirts and patent leather shoes and each morning I could hear the cathedral bells ring.

This afternoon Lucy painted my toenails red and told me about a dream she had, she flew over mountaintops and I was holding her hand; this made us happy.

Then Matt lay his head on my lap while we watched a documentary about rocket ships and he asked me if he would ever be tall, and I told him to worry about the size of his heart instead; and he smiled up at me and he looked like the baby boy that I once held in my arms.

During nap time, Finn sang me a song when he thought I was asleep; I heard every word and I keep the lyrics in my heart the way I do the first time we kissed and it was raining and my sneakers got muddy and the thunder clapped, and his hands tangled in my hair.

Later on, Abby brought me a bouquet of wild violets and we looked at the petals under her magnifying glass. I saw clear glass dewdrops and thin lines running together on the surface and it was a whole world I've never seen. Abby said that's how she sees people, you just have to be close enough. I agree.

And when I was getting ready for the party, Mercedes combed out my wig; and I was sitting there with my bald head, oxygen tubes in my nostrils and she told me I had beautiful eyes, and then we talked about our kids, our husbands, our lives, and it was wonderful.

Afterwards, I watched Sam bake my birthday cake, he told me a story about how he liked to pick strawberries as a little boy in Tennessee; how the sun felt beating down on them in the strawberry fields, how sweet the berries smelled as they dropped them into the basket; he sang as he worked and then he let me lick the spoon, and wished me a Happy Birthday. I felt joy in that moment.

Then later, Aba and Pop said a beautiful prayer for me; taking me in their arms, they thanked God for giving them such a wonderful daughter to love. It was in the den and the sun was setting and purple light filled the room, and I thanked God for my fathers.

This may not be the day that I was born. But it was certainly a day that I lived.

I love you all."

It was hard for Mercedes not to cry or anyone else for that matter. Never before had she heard such remarkable words of gratitude. Everyone gave Rachel a hug, pretending that tears weren't forming in their eyes, and she received their embraces, telling them again that she loved them.

Then the Perseids meteor shower began, and the meteors resembled tiny points of light that flashed across the sky, leaving bright white streaks of light behind them.

Rachel looked up. Her face breaking into a huge smile.

"Beautiful," she said, pointing to the sky.

Mercedes gazed at the sky too, and Sam put his arm around her.

"It's like a sci-fi movie," he said, "Only better."

"I want to catch one," she said.

He leaned down and kissed her, holding her close. His green eyes shined by the light of the fire, just like emeralds, and Mercedes thought of his kiss in the supermarket; and the tender hug he gave her when she stepped out of the shower that morning, saying he felt like holding her as he wrapped her in a towel. Those were the moments that Rachel talked about, so tiny, but so wonderful that you kept them forever.

Everyone stayed outside a long time. Rachel held Finn's hand as they peered up at the sky together.

"They're like jewels," she said to him.

Matt, Lucy, and Abby tried to capture the event on their phones. Hiram and Sean were nearby with Hiram standing behind Sean, his arms wrapped around his husband's slender waist; and they sort of swayed together, stealing kisses now and then.

After it was over, and the fire died out, everyone went into the house to go to bed. Mercedes and Sam checked on the twins and then crept into their bedroom. As they stood side by side at the double sink in the bathroom, brushing their teeth, Mercedes dropped her toothbrush into the sink, and began crying. Sam stopped brushing his teeth and held her. There was nothing to be said. It was a beautiful night, but it couldn't stop the pain and grief that filled her heart and tore her to pieces.

MY SKIN

Rachel stood still as Finn unzipped her dress, gently pulling it down her thin, fragile body, the white lace pooling at her feet. He kissed her shoulders as she stepped out of the circle and he picked up the dress, hanging it up in their closet. She sat down on the bench in front of the vanity table, her back to the mirror, and Finn removed her lipstick with a tissue, Rachel's breathing was somewhat labored and she sat perfectly still.

Next her wig came off and Finn carefully placed it on the Styrofoam head sitting on the vanity table. Then he removed the beige wig cap, leaving her bare baldhead exposed, with sparse remains of her once long dark hair. She sat there in her bra and panties, looking up at him, staring into his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He kneeled down before her, holding her face in his big hands.

"Remember what you said about our first kiss?"

"Yes."

He kissed her, pressing his lips against hers, treating her like crystal, careful, gentle, doing his best not to break her and Rachel accepted his kiss, her mind going back to all those years ago, before Matt and Lucy, and engagement rings, and disapproving parents, and betrayal and reconciliation, and cancer; she went back to the beginning, to that moment when she stood in the rain with Finn, and she pulled him closer.

Did he see her that way? Despite how she looked now? Was she still that girl to him? As if hearing her thoughts, he broke the kiss, and caressed her sunken cheeks.

"Your spirit is still there. That's what I see," he said.

"I know how I look."

"Baby, I don't care about that. When I'm holding you, I'm always with that girl, but honestly, you're better than her."

"How?"

"You've grown. And so have I."

They hugged and he kissed her neck.

"May I make love to you tonight?"

"Finn, I want to, but I'm scared."

"Dr. Rhoden said it was safe."

"I know. I don't know what it is. I just, it's been a while, ok? I haven't felt the urge for a long time, but I feel it tonight."

"Blame it on the meteors."

Rachel laughed, kissing his cheek.

"I love you, Finn."

"I love you too."

They kissed some more, and Finn cupped her small breasts covered by the white cotton bra, squeezing them gently. Rachel felt her arousal heighten.

"I'm willing to try," she whispered.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, along with the oxygen tank too. Once he laid her on the bed, he undressed, and joined her. Finn had lost his pudgy stomach and thighs and was more lean and muscular.

"Turn off the lights," she said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I want to see you. I love you. There's no reason for you to hide from me."

For the first time that night, Rachel let herself cry.

He held her as she cried, and she was glad that he didn't offer useless words of comfort, but stayed silent, and let the tears flow down her cheeks; she only wanted to release the agony inside her; and when she was done; she felt some relief and serenity in his arms, and she wanted to connect with him, and they began kissing and touching. He helped her take off her bra and panties, and when she was nude, he stroked every part of her body and she did the same with him. Her nipples grew hard like small pebbles, and when he touched her between her thighs, she gasped at the sensation.

"Was that too much?" he asked, pulling his hand away.

"No, it felt good."

"I'm turning on the ceiling fan."

"Why?"

"Remember, Dr. Rhoden said it was best not to get overheated."

"Thank you for remembering."

"You're welcome."

Once the fan was on, they began touching again. Finn grew hard as Rachel's delicate hands gripped his member, fondling it.

"I need you," he said.

He got behind her and they spooned.

"This is the safest position," he said.

Rachel looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"I feel like we're making a how-to guide for how to have sex with chronically ill spouses."

Finn chuckled and kissed the back of her baldhead.

"You're the sexiest cancer patient I know."

"Finnegan Hudson, you can't be serious."

"Hey, I'm only telling the truth. Nobody works an oxygen tank quite like you."

"Oh, God," she said and laughed out loud.

Finn put his arm around her tiny waist and held her tight against him.

"I haven't heard you laugh like that in a long time."

"I know."

"Baby, it was nice to hear."

"Thanks, it was nice to feel it."

They went slow, and when he entered her, Rachel forgot how much she loved the feeling of having Finn inside of her, filling her up; it was so sweet, he gyrated his hips with a cautious rhythm, and she enjoyed every pleasurable moment of it, his hands wandered to her breasts, squeezing them and she closed her eyes, touching her clitoris, and he kept pumping his hips, moving within her, giving her so much love and care that tears sprang from her eyes; she wasn't expecting fireworks, in fact that's not what she needed, what she needed was this intimacy with Finn, this vulnerability that let him see her cancer stricken body, and make love to her anyway, even though he had been her caretaker through her treatment, and had seen her naked plenty of times; this was different; this was seeing her illness and finding her beauty and spirit within; she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out, but Finn said:

"I want to hear you."

"But what if – "

"Forget, what if."

She released a low-pitched cry as she came, her breathing was shallow, and she began to cough as she shook in his arms, feeling his come filling her up. Finn immediately stopped.

"Baby, are you ok? Look at me."

"I'm fine. Just winded. Could you get me some water?"

Finn hopped out of the bed and went into the bathroom, coming back moments later with a glass of water.

He rubbed her back as she drank the water.

"Take it slow, that's my girl," he said.

Her breathing returned to normal, but suddenly she was so tired that she could hardly move. Finn caressed her face.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes, that was great."

Finn kissed her, his eyes were worried.

"I think we should call Dr. Rhoden."

"Finn, I'm fine. Thank you so much for that. It was wonderful. I felt beautiful and alive."

He leaned down and kissed her.

"It was wonderful for me too. I'm checking your tank."

He checked her tank and replaced it, and he got her pink silk scarf that hung on the side of the vanity mirror and tied it on her head, since her head grew cold as she slept. Mercedes taught him how to tie the scarf so it wouldn't fall off. He also turned off the lights and ceiling fan and finally got back into bed. Rachel yawned, snuggling up to him. Finn covered them up with the blanket and they both fell asleep.

MORALS AND CONSEQUENCES

Cooper stood beside the man's bed. The gun pointed to his head. As he was about to pull the trigger, the man woke up and turned around.

"Oh my God!" he said.

He was young. Not much older than 30. His baby girl slept in a crib in the next room. His wife was downstairs in the kitchen drinking hot cocoa because she couldn't sleep, completely unaware that her husband was about to be killed. Cooper remained silent. His face covered with a mask.

"You can have anything. Don't hurt my wife and baby."

Cooper saw the fear in the man's eyes. He probably dreamed one day of becoming somebody important like a fireman or policeman; he went to college, fell in love, got married had a child, but did his future also include child sex trafficking? Were there pictures of missing children amidst his Crayola drawings of a bright future?

Because that's exactly what business this man was in and on an international level.

He was Cooper's hit. And Cooper always followed through.

"Please don't kill me."

Cooper stared at him, saw the tears in his eyes; in the darkness, those tears shined, a car drove past outside, it's headlights shining into the bedroom.

"Please…"

He heard his wife coming up the stairs, walking slowly, each step creaking under her weight. The Grandfather clock in the hall chimed off the hour. It was 2:00 in the morning.

"I can give you anything just let me –"

Cooper pulled the trigger. Once. Then twice.

The gun had a silencer. Nothing could be heard.

The man fell back on the bed, blood spilling from his forehead onto the pristine white pillow. Cooper slipped out the window. His wife came into the bedroom. He heard her scream.

One down. Ten more to go.

ooo

Cooper shot the grandmother in the chest. She headed the operation. No one would ever suspect that a plump, white haired Australian woman who was known for making wonderful Pavlova for church gatherings could ever do something so heinous and profit from it.

It was in Sydney. It was early evening and a heavy rain fell from the sky; she wore a yellow slicker and she carried her famous desert as she walked through the dark parking lot on her way to St. George's Presbyterian Church for the evening service. Her hair was covered with one of those old lady plastic scarves and a big black purse was slung over her shoulder. She had six grandchildren and five children of her own.

He stood in front of her, blocking her path.

"G'day," she said smiling at him, there was a smudge of pink lipstick on her otherwise pearly white teeth.

He didn't give her a chance to say anything. He just shot her. And she stumbled and fell, the white meringue dessert hit the pavement splattering on the dark surface.

ooo

That night he drank vodka in his hotel room. He looked up her six grandchildren and five children and saw their happy, smiling faces on social media: sunny beaches, brick homes, picnics and flying kites.

And then he remembered the victims, and recalled the god- awful pictures he saw of them performing disgusting acts with government officials. Bought, traded, and sold.

It was enough to keep him going.

In Japan, a little boy cried over his father's body, poking him in the chest.

In Bangladesh, a man said a prayer, before he shot him in the back.

On a cold morning in Ireland, he talked to a priest in the park, told him fantastic lies about how he lived a moral life, and the priest listened, smiling, offering him some bread and cheese before leaving; and Cooper wanted to call him back and tell him the truth. That he was a worthless killer, that he believed in justice, that blood was shed, and it couldn't wash away; but he heard the children's voices and he kept going until he had nothing left.

But there were too many bodies, too many screams, and too much pain.

THE UNIVERSE COLLIDES

A bar of Cooper's bath soap was on his pillow, it had a rugged, spicy, herbal fragrance with notes of chamomile and lavender that LaTonya loved smelling on his skin. She kept the soap there whenever he was away; so that for a moment, when she woke up, she could smell his scent and pretend that he was in the room with her. Though it smelled stronger on his skin, the illusion was enough to soothe her.

It had been three months since she saw Cooper, but every day she felt him, and he surrounded her in that house; she heard echoes of his voice, deep and reassuring, telling her that everything would be fine; saw his reflection in the windows, when the sunlight hit the glass at certain angles, and for a brief second, Cooper flashed before her; his blue eyes pensive.

But it wasn't his physical form that she encountered the most, it was his spirit that was even stronger; his essence dwelled in that house. He was on a secret assignment; she believed he was working with government intelligence though she couldn't be certain; and he couldn't tell her anything. He gave her a special, untraceable phone that could pick up reception anywhere in the world from mountaintops to dense, lush forests, and arid deserts, and it also worked in any type of weather.

It was an expensive phone, costing thousands of dollars. He would only communicate with her by calling her on this special phone. She never knew when he would contact her so she kept it with her all the time, and jumped whenever the odd ringtone would play, it sounded like a teakettle's forlorn whistle. They never spoke longer than five minutes. He missed her. He loved her. She knew that. She also knew that she wanted him home. The worst part was that she had to lie to everyone and say he was in London for business. She hated lying. The only one who figured it out was Abby.

"Abby, he's still in London," LaTonya said, when the girl called a few weeks before. She was in the kitchen sorting through the mail, drinking tea, pretending to be normal. But what was normal about waiting for a strange phone to ring and hear Cooper's breathless voice saying he's ok, while gunshots were in the background.

"He isn't in London," Abby said.

LaTonya didn't confirm or deny it. Instead she said:

"Have you been using your magnifying glass?"

"Yes. That's how I know."

"Abby?"

"God will help him," Abby said.

LaTonya turned over and looked at the empty space beside her in bed. She picked up the soap and held it, her fingers gliding across the smooth yellow surface.

Suddenly, the bedroom lamp came on, and she heard Cooper's voice:

"That's a poor substitute, don't you think?"

LaTonya sat up, crying out in surprise, and Cooper stood before her, his hair cut so close you could see his red scalp beneath the sparse white-blonde hair, he was dressed all in black, the outline of his gun visible beneath his thin black sweater, he held a silver steel brief case which he sat on the floor.

"Why don't I ever hear you come in? She said gazing up at him, the soft lamplight, shining on him; he appeared unreal, as if he were just another mind trick that made her see him everywhere in quick flashes before disappearing into air.

"Because you've convinced yourself that I'm not coming back."

"That's not true."

He sat beside her on the bed and held her close. He smelled like smoke and death. She pictured him standing in ashes.

"I'm here," he said, rubbing her back.

She pulled away and touched his cheek, her thumb grazing over a tiny jagged scar he got in a schoolyard fight as a boy.

"I still think you're some sort of magician."

Cooper kissed her, his gun pressed against her stomach.

"I love you," he said.

"Were you in a fire?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What can you tell me?"

"That I'll be home for a while this time."

"How long is a while?"

"I don't know. A long time."

LaTonya wasn't sure why but she began crying and he held her in his arms.

"Shhh, sweetheart, it's ok," He said, whispering into her ear, rocking her gently.

She stayed in his arms until he said:

"Let's take a bath."

He pulled her long, lacy nightgown over her shoulders, leaving her nude as he hurriedly undressed, piling his clothes in a black heap on the floor, and putting his gun on the nightstand.

He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. Her prosthesis wasn't attached; she felt like a child and woman all at once; she recalled how her father used to carry her around in the hospital, and sometimes he pretended that he was a plane and would make ridiculous motor sounds and she would laugh until the nurses were annoyed and told them to keep it down. She would be in so much pain but the laughter cut through it all.

Yet Cooper carrying her was a different story, it wasn't paternal, though it was protective, and he hummed a soft, sweet melody that settled into her chest; he knew how to soothe her, make her anxiety dissipate into fragments.

Her large bathroom had a safety shower with a a bench that was wide enough for two people; and it also had a separate rectangular walk-in bathtub with safety bars, and an U-shaped door that was made of tempered glass and stainless steel which opened to get inside the tub which had hyrdojets and built-in heated seats at each end.

He opened the bathtub door and sat her on one of seats and then he got in, closing it behind him. He turned on the faucet and the tub began to fill; he kneeled before her and rested his head on her lap, as the water flowed in around them, she stroked his head, and felt a few of his tears fall onto her bare thighs; it was his turn to cry.

She comforted him as he had done for her, whispering that she loved him so much and how brave he was; he cried into her lap, choked sobs escaped from deep within him; it was only in moments like this that he was a vulnerable little boy again, wanting his parents to love him, wanting the shadows and darkness to go away. As the water rose, he lifted his head and she hugged him to her heart.

When the tub was full, he turned the faucet off, and grabbed a washcloth hanging from one of the safety bars. He squirted blue bath gel that smelled like beaches and oceans onto the washcloth and began washing her body: arms, legs, breasts, shoulders, belly and then he leaned her forward, resting her against his chest, so he could wash her back. Each stroke of the washcloth was gentle and loving, sometimes he kissed her wet skin; his tear filled eyes gazing at her, but try as she might, no matter what she did; she couldn't save him.

The nightmares that left him trembling in the darkness, and made him reach for her in his sleep, and the blood that stained his clothes and the bullets that pierced his flesh… she couldn't stop any of it. And that haunted look in his eyes when he knew he she couldn't save him … it was awful but she faced it anyway; because some roads were walked alone. Even so, she could hold and love him, wait for his call, and listen to his screams, let his tears and blood mix with her own, and that's what she did. Because in the end, he could never tell his whole story.

When he was finished the ritual of washing her body, leaving her clean and warm and feeling loved and broken-hearted all at once, Cooper bathed himself, though she tried to reciprocate, he waved her away and began soaping up the other washcloth with his favorite soap. He carefully washed himself and she noticed the new scars on his body; his back had a healed gash, shiny and raised, like a red serpent living beneath his skin; on his shoulder it looked like someone had burned cigarettes into his flesh, and his torso had a round purple bruise that was beginning to heal; because it's color was faded. When he was done, he drained the tub, picked her up, opened the door and sat her on the closed toilet seat. He grabbed a big, fluffy towel from the shelf behind him, wrapped it around her shoulders and carried her to the bedroom where he gently lay her on the bed, and dried her off.

He rubbed lotion all over her skin, massaging her arms, legs, and the full globes of her buttocks, giving teasing squeezes to each cheek and then turning her over and pinching her plump, sensitive nipples, and ghosting his fingers over the surface of her vagina, but never plunging inside. She bit her lip and moaned and he kissed her before he pulled away and quickly dried his damp skin, returning to the bed, and gathering her in his arms, kissing her again; he was hard, his pale skin was flushed red, and his breathing was shallow.

She touched his face and nodded; he smiled as she opened her legs, and he didn't hesitate before pushing himself inside her, and she clenched her walls around him, as he stroked her. His hand glided over her residual limb, while she lay beneath him, accepting his thrusts; he grew urgent, each stroke became harder and faster until she couldn't hold back and neither could he, and they came within moments of each other, shaking as they held on to one another for support; his heart beat against hers; she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the new scar, trying not to cry, thinking about how it got there, and he kissed her face.

"I'm ok."

Her tears fell; she looked up at him.

"There's scar gel in the bathroom cabinet."

"Thank you," he said kissing her.

LaTonya said nothing; they lay tangled together, resting until they needed each other again, and they made love all night.

ooo

Cooper had to decompress. Sleeping was futile. So he wandered the house at night reliving what happened during his assignment.

He got a lot of money for it. So much in fact that he probably wouldn't have to work for the rest of his life; especially if he invested well. He and LaTonya could spend their time, just living their lives, raising a family, traveling… anything.

But then darkness came.

And it began.

He hated headlights flashing into the window from the street. Hated the sound of car alarms and dogs barking and thumping hip-hop music those stupid teenagers played across the street when their parents weren't home.

Everything was magnified and too close. He always felt someone was behind him, waiting. He looked over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to the living room or as he went up the stairs to the bedroom.

Shadows appeared on the walls, and he felt the breath of his captors on his skin, hot and menacing, taking him back to the sun-drenched desert with visible heat waves that left you feeling as if you were dreaming; and when he did dream; it was of LaTonya, her voice, her smile, her scent, all taking him back to their home in Tennessee with cement steps and a dilapidated gazebo in the backyard.

But now that he was back home, he was also someplace else, back in the secret world he couldn't talk about. He checked on LaTonya more times than he could count; and she would wake up and stare at him with those beautiful, dark eyes of hers, reminding him of black pearls shining in the moonlight, and she would beckon him, holding open her arms and he would go to her and she would hold him, kissing his cheek, whispering her love for him. But it wasn't enough.

Though he finished most of his assignment, one piece remained to be done, and it was tricky.

Now he sat in the kitchen. His untraceable phone by his side. A cup of steaming hot tea and a plate of warmed over Chinese take-out was in front of him but the food turned his stomach and the tea tasted funny. He drummed his fingers on the table and at 2:00 in the morning; he got the call from Paul Dill, his employee now working for him on some operations overseas.

"We got rid of all the bodies. It wasn't easy."

"Ok."

"Is LaTonya ok?"

"She's fine, why?"

"I know it's not my place but…"

"I can't stay on the phone. Be brief."

"She agreed to marry you."

"I'm aware of that."

"Did she agree to this lifestyle?"

"She knows what I do for a living."

"That's not my point. When she was your assistant she only knew about your legit cases. What we're doing now well, it isn't exactly."

"I understand the morally ambiguous nature of certain assignments."

"Cooper, I like LaTonya and she loves you. I don't want to see her life in danger and it could come to that with some of these cases we work on. Intelligence communities are getting stronger in other countries; they could strike back out of revenge and hurt those you love."

"I'm aware of that."

"And are you also aware that you're no spring chicken and can't escape death like you used to?"

"Since you brought all of this up, I need to tell you - "

Suddenly, LaTonya appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Cooper who are you talking to at this hour?"

She glanced at the phone.

"You're going away again, aren't you?"

Cooper wanted to take that hurt from her eyes. He gripped the phone.

"Paul, I'll have to call you back," he said and pressed the end button, placing the phone on the table.

"Sweetheart, come here."

"You've only been back a few days," she said, shaking her head, "I thought –"

Cooper stood up and walked over to her, kissing her forehead. He took her by the hand and sat down again, pulling her onto to his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not?"

"No, in fact, I've made a decision."

"And what would that be?"

"That was my last assignment."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not doing that type of work any more; I'm retiring."

"Cooper, are you sleep deprived?"

"I am sleep deprived but my mind is fine. I've made enough money for us to live comfortably."

"But you love your work."

"I do. But I love you more."

"I can't ask you to give up what you love for me. I've seen that happen with other couples; and they end up breaking up."

"We're not other couples. I've thought about this a lot and while I love seeking justice, it's weighing down on me too. The death that I see is finally getting to me more than usual. When I come home, all I want to do is grieve; and it follows me. I don't want to live in two worlds any more; I only want one world with you."

LaTonya kissed him.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he said, caressing her cheek, grateful that he had her.

"You're not one to sit around, so what will you do?"

"I'll do some consulting. Remember that idea you had about running an online business that specializes in security clearances?"

"Yes."

"It's an excellent idea and I figure we can run the business together; I love working with you. Don't worry, we'll be financially sound."

"I'm not worried about that, but will that be enough for you? You like being challenged, what will challenge you now?

"I don't know," he smiled, "I suppose the challenge will be in finding a challenge."

"We'll figure it out together."

"I know we will."

"You know," she said, looping her arms around his neck, "I can defend myself while you're away. I'm a good marksman and I own – "

"You own a Smith and Wesson Shield 9mm, a Ruger LCR, and a Bersa Thunder."

"How did you know?"

"It's difficult to keep secrets from me."

"I wasn't keeping secrets."

"Why are you bringing up your shooting skills?"

"I love that you protect me and I know you worried about my safety while you were away, and I miss you something awful when you're gone, but if your decision is based solely on keeping me safe, then I need you to understand that I do know self defense and I can shoot."

"I know this. And even the most well-trained soldiers couldn't face the things I was up against; I'm not denying your abilities, but the forces I was reckoning with surpassed a lot of what most of us could handle. I don't want those forces hurting you. I love you."

"I understand. Come on, let's go to bed," she said getting up from his lap.

He yawned.

"I'm suddenly sleepy."

"Did Paul give you good news?"

"He gave me news."

LaTonya chuckled as they walked up the stairs with their arms around each other; and Cooper felt a peace that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

ooo

Two weeks later…

"Honey, I need to talk to you," LaTonya said as she walked into the kitchen early on a Sunday morning.

Cooper sat at the kitchen table; he was shirtless and only wore a pair of gray sweatpants that were snug on his muscular legs and sculpted buttocks. The bullet wound scars on his chest and torso did not detract from his masculine beauty. The table was cluttered with stacks of manila file folders containing old cases he worked on; and he was in the process of deciding which files would be scanned into their archival database. A small plate of fried bratwurst links and bröchten rolls with butter was next to his elbow.

He was staring at his laptop and smiling. He looked away from the screen.

"Abby sent me pictures from the Daddy Daughter Ball that she went to with Sam. They look so happy," he said, and turned the computer around so she could see.

The pictures showed Abby in her pretty green ball gown with Sam in a tuxedo in various candid shots: dancing together under a crystal chandelier; standing in front of the museum on a red carpet; sitting inside the limo holding glasses of soda… in all of the pictures, Abby looked radiant and Sam looked like the proudest father in the world, his protective arm was around her small shoulders, signaling to the world that this was his daughter, and that he kept her safe from harm.

"They're beautiful," LaTonya said sitting down beside him, "Sam is a good father. Now I need to tell you that - "

"Yes he is," Cooper said, looking down into his blue speckled coffee mug and frowning a little.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you think I will be a good father too?"

LaTonya placed her hand over his, her soft fingers, stroking his rough, ruddy knuckles.

"Of course."

Cooper sighed.

"I'm not like Blaine. I don't have this sixth sense with kids. He's great with Carrie."

"Thank God, you're not like him."

Cooper raised his white blond eyebrows, his blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm glad you're not like Blaine. I'm glad you're you. Everything different about you is what makes you so special. I fell in love with your quirks. Who cares if you're not like Blaine? You're an original and I wouldn't have you any other way. So no more brother comparisons, alright?"

He leaned over and hugged her, giving her a kiss.

"Alright."

"And you are good with kids. Look at what you have with Abby. You connected with her at her darkest time. I wish you could see how wonderful you are," LaTonya said, as he held her in a strong embrace, "You're fine, Cooper, just as you are."

As loving as her words were, he still had his doubts, considering how he handled justice, but he didn't want to bring it up, so he said:

"I love you so much," he said, kissing her again.

LaTonya kissed his cheek.

"I love you too. And don't think I can't hear your thoughts. I know your job has you doing things I could never comprehend. But I don't care. I love the man that you are. And if you want to know what kind of father you'll be, you'll find out in nine months."

He leaned back to look at her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said you'll find out in nine months."

"Are you saying that you're – "

"Yes, sweetie, I'm pregnant."

Tears formed in Cooper's eyes.

"LaTonya, are you serious… when… when did this happen?"

"My period is late and I just took a pregnancy test . It was positive," she said reaching into the pocket of her robe and taking out the stick.

Cooper looked down at the stick that proudly said pregnant on the LCD display.

"I can't believe this," he whispered.

"Neither can I."

"I'm so happy," he said and pushed his hand under her faded blue t-shirt, rubbing her bare stomach, "I can't wait to see your belly grow."

"That's not the only thing that will grow," LaTonya said.

"What do you mean?"

She pointed to her chest and hips.

"They will take on a life of their own," She said, smiling at him, "So be prepared."

"I think it's beautiful. Your body transforming for the baby. Besides, what's wrong with a fuller bosom and hips? You're gorgeous, LaTonya, nothing changes that for me."

He patted his lap.

"Come here."

She sat on his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Let's get married weekend," she said.

"Ok, we can arrange something. I don't want to put it off any longer either. Even if you weren't pregnant. I'm sure Blaine will be shocked," he said, rubbing her belly again.

She ran her hand over his closely cropped hair.

"Is this going to be a thing with you now?"

"A thing?"

"Yes."

"What are you referring to?"

"Rubbing my belly like I'm Buddha."

Cooper laughed nuzzling her soft neck.

"Yes, I suppose it will be a thing. It's suddenly become my favorite part of you."

She kissed him.

"Mine too."

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing my story!

#Sam and mercedes #Samcedes fanfiction #sam evans and mercedes jones