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mtmpossession · 4 months

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A New Perspective: Part I

The sun had just set over the horizon, casting a warm glow across the rolling hills of the family farm in Texas. Douglas, a sturdy man in his early fifties, stood outside the old barn, gazing out at the fields with a mixture of pride and weariness. He was a homespun man, with a short beard that highlighted the strength of his jawline. His broad shoulders were testament to a lifetime of hard work, both as a fire protection specialist and as a farmer.

Joseph, on the other hand, was a young man in his late twenties, with an athletic build and lean muscles that were honed from years of working out and modeling. He was dressed impeccably in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, his brown hair styled to perfection. His stubble, however, betrayed the fact that he hadn't shaved in a few days. Joseph was an adventurer, always eager to explore the world and experience new things. He was bisexual, something he had confessed to his father years ago, which had only served to further strain their already tenuous relationship.

As Joseph stepped out of the car and approached his father, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. They had barely spoken in over a year, and now they were meeting under such tense circumstances. Douglas's disapproval of Joseph's lifestyle choice, coupled with his father's insistence that he abandon his modeling career and join the family business, had only served to drive them further apart.

Douglas, on the other hand, was filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment. He loved his son dearly, but he couldn't help but feel that Joseph was wasting his life chasing after meaningless fame and fortune. He wanted Joseph to embrace their family's blue-collar roots and work alongside him at the fire protection business and on the farm.

"Hello, Joseph," Douglas said, his tone formal and distant. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Dad," Joseph replied, his voice equally guarded. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt as he looked at his father. The last time they had seen each other, they had argued heatedly about Joseph's life choices. He wished things could be different, but it seemed like their relationship was beyond repair.

The two men stood in an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say. The tension was palpable. Douglas cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. "Well, I should get started on dinner," he said finally. "Why don't you come inside and help me?"

Joseph hesitated, uncertain whether his father meant it as an invitation to mend fences or just a request for assistance. After a moment's consideration, he decided to accept the offer. "Sure," he said, following his father into the house. The kitchen was warm and welcoming, with a large wooden table and cozy decorations that spoke of years of family gatherings.

As they worked side by side, chopping vegetables and seasoning meat, the silence between them seemed less oppressive. Douglas glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way he moved with confidence and ease. It was hard for Douglas to believe that this was the same boy who had once been so uncertain of himself. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, despite the tension that still lingered between them.

Meanwhile, Joseph found himself thinking about the years they had spent apart. He remembered the days when they would work together on the farm, laughing and sharing stories. He wondered if they could ever find a way back to that place of mutual understanding and respect.

As they ate their dinner, they continued to engage in small talk, discussing the latest sports news and local politics. It was a far cry from their previous arguments about Joseph's career choices, and Douglas found himself enjoying the easy banter between them. He couldn't help but notice how well his son looked, dressed in his crisp white shirt and jeans. There was a confidence about him that hadn't been there before.

Joseph, too, was relieved to be able to talk about something other than the elephant in the room. He had missed his father's company and the sense of belonging that came with being part of this family. He knew that they had differences, but he hoped that they could find some common ground.

As the evening wore on, however, their conversation began to take a familiar turn. Douglas started to question Joseph's choices once again, and Joseph found himself growing defensive. Before they knew it, they were once again arguing heatedly. "You never understood me, Dad," Joseph exclaimed, his voice rising. "You just want me to be this version of yourself, but I'm not you!"

Douglas's face flushed with anger. "Of course I understand you, Joseph! I just want you to have a stable future, one that doesn't involve chasing after fleeting fame and fortune!" he retorted. "You could be doing so much more with your life than strutting around in front of cameras!"

Joseph felt a stab of pain as his father spoke. He knew that Douglas meant well, but he couldn't help feeling like he was being suffocated by his father's expectations. "You don't get it, Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm not you. I don't want your life. I want my own."

Douglas looked away, unable to meet his son's eyes. He knew that he had been harsh, but he couldn't help feeling a desperate need to protect Joseph from what he saw as a reckless path. He wished he could understand why Joseph was so determined to pursue a career in modeling, when there were so many other options available to him.

Joseph retreated to his room, feeling a familiar mix of anger, frustration, and sadness. He knew that he and his father had always been different, but he had hoped that they could find some common ground. Instead, they seemed to be further apart than ever. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of his father and their strained relationship.

Douglas, too, lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't shake the image of Joseph's face as he had argued with him. He knew that he had been harsh, but he couldn't help feeling a desperate need to protect his son from what he saw as a reckless path. He wished he could understand why Joseph was so determined to pursue a career in modeling, when there were so many other options available to him.

As the hours ticked by, Douglas found himself growing more and more restless. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to step into Joseph's shoes, even for just a day. To experience the world through his son's eyes, to understand the motivations that drove him. Perhaps then, he thought, he could find a way to bridge the gap between them.

Joseph, on the other hand, spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning in bed. He couldn't shake the image of his father's disappointment and the weight of their strained relationship. He felt as though they were speaking two different languages. Perhaps if he could understand where his father was coming from, they could find a way to reach a common ground.

After they fall asleep, a sudden thunder storm arises. Lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the room in brief flashes of blue and white. The wind howls, battering the windows and causing the house to creak and groan. In the midst of the storm, there is a strange, inexplicable feeling in the air. As if the universe itself is conspiring to bring about a change.

The next morning, Joseph awakens with a start. He feels... different. His body is heavier, his movements slower. As he sits up in bed, he realizes with a jolt that he is no longer in his own body. He is in his father's body!

Douglas, too, wakes up with a start. He feels... light, almost ethereal. His movements are quick and graceful. As he swings his legs over the side of the bed, he realizes with a gasp that he is not in his own body. He is in Joseph's body!

He rushes over to the mirror, hardly able to believe what he sees. The face that stares back at him is not his own. It is young, vibrant, and unmistakably his son's. He touches his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his skin, and then runs his fingers through his silky hair. This is a dream, he tells himself, but it feels so real.

As he steps out of his room, he sees Joseph standing in the hallway, looking equally confused. His father's body feels strange, yet familiar. He tries to speak, but no words come out. He gestures for his father to follow him, and they proceed to the kitchen.

To be continued...

#male possession #male tf #male body swap #gay possession #bodyswapper #body switch #body swap #body possession #jock #male transformation #male takeover #possession #dad and son

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avastrasposts · 5 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Three

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hi!

Look at all the love you guys gave Din last week! I'm completely overwhelmed and flustered and I'm so happy you guys love this little series of Pedro boys and, apparently, the luckiest woman in the world. I love exploring their voices and aaaaall the fluff and sweetness I want to cram into these stories. But before we meet Pedro boy number three I have to give a few shout outs: First to @maggiemayhemnj because of certain fashion choices in this story... Secondly to @trulybetty and @for-a-longlongtime who actually made Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread from the first part! Dieter would be very proud of you both and then steal half the pan.

Series Master List

Now, enter Pedro boy number three, and look who it is...

You almost drop Mrs. Levinson’s bag of cardamom rolls when you see him stepping through the door with a hesitant look on his face. The tool belt sits low on his narrow hips, the faded denim shirt stretches tight over his shoulders and he’s looking around the bakery with a cautious frown. It’s like he’s stepped out of the pages of a calendar of sexy construction workers, and you mentally pick your jaw off the floor as he looks over at you.

“Here you go Mrs. Levinson,” you say, adding the last cardamom roll to her bag and forcing your eyes away from the man.

“Thank you dear,” she replies, giving you a sweet smile as she puts her hand on top of yours, “Have you seen Mrs Morales lately?”

“No, Mrs Levinson, I haven’t.”

“Ask her about her son the next time she comes in, he’s such a sweetheart,” she pats your hand a few times, taking her bag.

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, see you next week,” you wave as she makes her way to the front door, the man with the construction belt holding it open for her with a polite, “Ma’am.”

As he closes the door, you take a few steadying breaths, and smile as he comes over to the counter.

“How can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not let them stray to the freckles that disappear under the V of his shirt.

He rubs his hands together, wiping at a stain that won’t budge, and gives you a small smile.

“I’m wonderin’ if you offer baking lessons here?

His Texas drawl is smooth and low, a pleasant lilt to his baritone voice and it just adds to his attraction. You wonder if he’s aware of how good looking he is, he doesn’t have that air or attitude. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and puts one hand into his pocket, the other one twitching nervously at his side as he waits for your answer.

“I don’t do regular baking lessons but I’m sure I can arrange something,” you reply, “what did you have in mind?”

“Well, my daughter, her birthday’s comin’ up and I’d like to make her a cake or a pie or…or somethin’ that’s not just a supermarket cake,” he says, “But I don’t know the first thing about baking and I reckon I might need a bit of help or I’ll burn the kitchen down.” He furrows his brow as he talks, looking up at you with chocolate brown eyes, his hand still twitching by his side.

“That sounds like a very good reason to learn some baking, I'd be more than happy to help,” you smile at him and his forehead smooths out as he smiles back at you.

“Really? That’d be great, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, and I’ll only charge you for the ingredients, not the lesson,” you say as you bend down and get your calendar out from under the counter.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” the man protests, “I have to pay you for your time.”

“How about you pay me with time?” you ask, looking at the tool belt around his waist, “I have a couple of small jobs around the place that are probably pretty easy, but I don’t have the right tools, maybe you can help me with that?”

“Yeah, sure, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that,” he nods and sticks out his hand, “I’m Joel, Joel Miller.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller,” you smile back at him as you shake his hand, “How about next Monday? I’m closed on Mondays so I can give you the lesson then.”

“Umm….” he squints his eyes as if he’s thinking hard, “I think that works, afternoon alright for you?”

“Yeah, whenever,” you reply, “come by at one and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, really ‘preciate it,” he grins at you, running his hand through his hair, making the dark curls stand on end as you resist the urge to reach up and touch them.

“Do you have a preference for what to bake? Or does your daughter have a preference?”

“As long as it’s easy and contains chocolate, we’re both happy,” he says, “It’s got to be easy, I’ve never done any baking in my life.”

“Easy, gotcha, I’ll make sure it’s fool proof,” you laugh, “I think I have some ideas already, I’ll make sure you don’t burn down the house.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

He gives you a wave and a smile as he leaves.

…

You can’t help but spend some extra time on your hair on Monday morning, picking out your cutest apron as you get to the shop and telling your reflection to get a grip as you apply some make up. But the man is just…you shake your head, focus now!

You’re putting the ingredients out on the workbench in the kitchen as you hear a knock on the front door. Joel is right on time and as you walk across the front of the shop he gives you a wave through the window. He’s got his tool belt slung over his shoulder and a toolbox in one hand.

“Afternoon,“ he smiles and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your eyes from drifting over his wide shoulders, the green plaid flannel shirt he’s wearing hugging them tight. It looks as if he’s just showered, his dark curls are damp and brushed away from his face and his scruffy beard looks a little bit neater today.

“Afternoon, you’re right on time,” you smile at him, leading him back into the kitchen where he puts his tools down in a corner.

“Nice kitchen you’ve got,” Joel says, looking around the utilitarian workspace, “I never knew baking included so much equipment though.” He’s looking into your large dough mixer on the floor, the one used for big batches of bread.

“Baking is a very equipment heavy sport,” you laugh, “I’ve got so many gadgets with only one use, it’s ridiculous. But don’t worry, you’ll only need three things.”

“Sounds good,” Joel smiles at you and comes over to the counter where all the ingredients are laid out, “What are we making?”

“Texas Trash Pie,” you say, looking at him for his reaction and it doesn’t disappoint, he furrows his brow and looks thoroughly confused.

“Did you say ‘Trash Pie’?”

“Yep, a Texas Trash Pie,” you laugh, “Don’t worry, it tastes a lot better than it sounds. And it’s one of those ‘use whatever you feel like’ pies so you can adjust it to your own taste.”

“Ok, I see pretzels and pecans and chocolate, all things I like, so I’d say I’m good with that.” He smiles at you, “What’s first?”

“First we wash our hands,” you wave him over to your sink and let him clean up.

“So I’ve got two options for you, I’m going to teach you how to make the pie crust now, but you can buy a ready-made one too if you’re worried about making it from scratch,” you say as you point him to the recipe sheet you’ve printed for him, “Go on, follow that and I’ll help you out if you need it.”

“Ok, throwing me in the deep end, huh?” he chuckles and starts rolling up the sleeves of the flannel shirt.

“It’s sink or swim, Joel”, you grin, leaning next to him by the workbench, glancing down at how the sleeves of the shirt hug around his forearms when he’s got them folded up, you swear he’s flexing them on purpose, but he just leans down on the bench and picks up the paper.

He carefully reads the recipe in silence for a few minutes before he grabs the flour and gets to work. He doesn’t need any help from you in the first few steps, putting all the ingredients in the bowl and working them all together as you add cubes of cold butter. You don’t want to distract him so you stand next to him in comfortable silence while he consults the recipe every other minute to make sure he’s got all the steps.

“Alright, I think that’s holding its shape right?” he asks you after working the ingredients together into a dough ball.

“Looks very good to me,” you say, “Now, flatten it into a disc and wrap it in plastic, we’re going to let it chill for a bit.”

“Right, boss,” Joel replies, and it makes your cheeks heat up, as you try to suppress a giggle.

“We can get the filling done now but then we have to wait for a bit,” you explain as he puts the dough in the fridge.

“Ok, let’s do that and then I’ll see what you need help with around here.” Joel replies, double checking on his dough before closing the door, “Didn’t think pie dough was that easy, people make it sound real complicated.”

“No, once you’ve got a good recipe it’s easy. And this next part is foolproof.” You hoist yourself up to sit on the workbench.

“Don’t tempt me, I could still burn down your kitchen,” he chuckles, coming to stand next to you and you catch a whiff of his warm cologne. His eyes are level with yours now and you can’t help but reflect on how much like chocolate they are as he smiles at you.

“Lucky thing I know a contractor who can rebuild it then,” you smile back at him and he gives you a wink.

“Lucky you indeed. Do I know him? I could tell you if he’s any good,” he replies, picking up the recipe card.

“You might know him, he’s tall, dark hair, cute smile, built like a barn door,” you smirk, feeling your butterflies erupt up as his own smile widens.

“Cute smile huh? Must be from out of town, I don’t know any contractors with cute smiles in this place.”

“He’s really bad at baking, but he’s got potential, might be an alternative career path if his construction thing doesn’t pan out.”

Joel’s grins and glances down at his hands holding the recipe, a pink shade creeping up his neck under the shirt.

“Yeah, I might know him,” he chuckles, looking up at you again, “Is he getting lessons from a real pretty baker girl, kinda makes her customers nervous with her own cute smile?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “that’s the one.”

“Alright, good to know,” he smiles and your eyes are still locked together, both of you trying to contain your grins.

Finally Joel breaks, clearing his throat and tapping his finger on the recipe card.

“So, this is foolproof, even for me?” he asks, bending down to read the recipe as you nod.

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes as Joel checks that he has everything he needs and then he looks up at you again.

“Really?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline, “That’s it? Dump all the stuff in a bowl and mix?”

“Told you it was foolproof,” you reply, “and you can mix in other things if you prefer.”

“Ok, but I’ll follow your recipe for now,” he says, “ ‘one cup semi sweet chocolate chips’.” He grabs the measuring cup and the chocolate chips.

You watch him as he carefully measures out the ingredients in the bowl and then mixes it all together.

“That’s it?” he asks and you nod.

“Yup, that’s it, now grab the dough from the fridge and roll it out to fit that pie form,” you point him to the form you’ve placed on the bench for him.

“Alright, never used a rolling pin, but I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Joel grins as he unwraps the dough. You watch him weigh the rolling pin in his hand as he cocks his head and looks at the dough, as if he’s sizing it up, figuring out how he’s going to tackle it.

“Any special tricks I need to know?” he asks, looking over at you.

“No, just keep even pressure and try to roll it out into a circle but don’t stress too much, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Ok, here goes then,” he laughs and starts rolling. He’s tentative at first, squinting at the dough every other time he rolls over it.

“Put your weight behind it, Joel,” you smile at him, “it won’t break.”

“If you say so, you’re the master baker,” he replies, adjusting his stance and putting more force into it. The green plaid of his flannel stretches across his back as he starts rolling in earnest across the dough, and you can’t help your eyes flitting between the way his hands grip the rolling pin and the tight seams of his shirt.

Far too soon Joel’s got the dough nice and smooth, rolled out into a neat circle.

“You’re a natural at that, Joel,” you laugh and give him a quick pat on the back that makes him puff up a little.

“Tell my daughter, she’s never going to believe me when she sees her old man with a rolling pin in hand.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very impressed,” you say, handing him the pie form, “So next step is to roll the pie dough onto the rolling pin and drape it over the form, then we bake it.”

You tell him how to move the dough into the pie form and he gives you a proud smile as it settles neatly.

“Now cut away the overhang and we’ll get it in the oven.”

While the pie crust bakes you make Joel a coffee and treat him to some of your leftovers.

“It’s not fresh but they’re still good,” you say, handing him a pain au chocolat, his large hands dwarfing the pastry.

“I’m really not complaining,” he chuckles, biting down into the flaky dough, “I’ll bring my daughter next time I come, she's got an even bigger sweet tooth than me, but not until after her birthday, or she’ll catch on to my surprise.”

“If you find out her favorite I can teach you how to make that next time,” you say, leaning against the counter with your coffee while Joel smiles at you.

“You’re being far too nice, you’re gonna ruin your business if you keep giving away baking lessons.”

“Who said I’m giving them away, I’m charging you next time,” you laugh, “this first time freebie was just to get you suckered in, now I’ve got you hooked.”

“You’ve sure got me hooked, darlin’,” Joel drawls, winking at you, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re a real flirt, Joel,” you giggle, trying to contain the butterflies that have erupted in your stomach again as he keeps his eyes on yours, looking up through his dark eyelashes as he smiles at you.

“Just being honest, honey,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee and finally taking his eyes off you. You feel like you can breathe normal again, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand as you sip your from your own mug.

In the kitchen you hear the oven ping and you set your mug down as Joel looks up, “The crust is ready, time for the last step.”

“I feel like you’re going easy on me,” he chuckles, “shouldn’t baking be harder than this?” He follows you into the kitchen as you smile at his comment.

“You’re on beginner level, Miller. You’re not gonna let me build a house the first time I use a hammer right?”

He laughs at that, his eyes squinting as his shoulders jump.

“Alright, point taken, darlin’,” he chuckles, taking the oven mitts from you, “I’ll stay on the easy stuff for now.”

“And I’m actually giving you a challenge,” you point out as he carefully lifts the pie crust from the oven and sets it down on the workbench, “I could’ve given you a recipe that required no oven.”

“Wait, you’re telling me I could’ve done this lesson with no oven?”

“Sure, but here we are, and your pie is ready to be baked,” you smile, “Just dump the mixture into the crust and smooth it out as best you can, it’s going to even itself out in the oven anyway.”

Joel does as you say, dolloping the sticky mixture into the pie crust and pressing it down lightly.

“All done, but, there’s one extra addition I like to do that’s not in the recipe,” you say, nodding as he puts the final touch to the pie. “You can sprinkle just a little bit of sea salt over the top, it’s a nice contrast to the sweetness of the pie, especially with the caramel and the condensed milk.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Joel says, “if you say it’s good, I’ll trust that.”

You hand him the container and he grabs a pinch, “Just a sprinkle?”

“Just a sprinkle, try to get it evenly over the top.”

“And now in the oven?”

“Yep, just in the oven and then we wait.”

As you watch, Joel carefully slides the pie form back into the oven and closes the door and you set a timer.

“Alright, let me clean up and you can show me what needs fixin’, I’ve already seen that shelf in the corner,” he says, nodding over to your bookshelf that doubles as an office, holding all the paperwork for the bakery.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask and Joel walks over to it and gives the corner of it a gentle kick, making the whole thing sway.

“Oh, ok,” you say as Joel grabs the shelf to steady it, “please fix that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it stable, but you might want to consider replacing it, that cheap Ikea stuff will always start to wobble after a while,” he says, washing off and moving his tool box in front of the bookshelf as you start to remove some of the contents.

“Actually,” Joel says, looking around the bakery’s kitchen, “You don’t have an office, do you? Where do you do the paperwork for the business?”

“On the workbench,” you say, pointing to where Joel’s bowl still is, “or I just take it home with me.”

“You know, I did a job a few months ago, built a small fold away office set for a bedroom,” he says, giving the kitchen an appraising look, “If you get rid of the bookshelf, I could build you a new one and include a desk that you can fold away, it basically works as a door for the shelf when you put it up, and a desk when it’s down. Here, let me show you.”

He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of what he means, the office set up is a sleek custom build in a small bedroom.

“Wow, you built this?” you ask, “It’s beautiful, but I could never afford something custom built like that, I’m sorry.”

Joel gives you a warm smile, putting his phone back, “I’ve got plenty of material left over from that job, and my time is free for you, I’d be happy to build it for you,” he says but you shake your head.

“Really, Joel, that’s too much, you’ve already offered to fix things around the kitchen, I can’t let you build that too.”

“Please, stop being so infuriating and just accept the damn thing,” Joel chuckles, bending to pick up a screwdriver from the toolbox, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to come back here after we’re done with this pie.”

“You don’t need an excuse to come back, Joel,” you smile as you watch him begin tightening the screws holding the old bookshelf together.

“I don’t?” he asks, still focused on the screws but you see him glance over as you pull out what you need to make the foundations for a wedding cake for next weekend.

“Of course not,” you smile, “you’re welcome anytime, baking lessons or not.”

“I might take you up on that then,” he says with a grin, giving the bookshelf a shake. “Ok, it’s sturdy now but I’m going to take some measurements for your new one.”

“Thanks Joel, I really appreciate it,” you reply as you begin measuring the ingredients.

“You’re welcome, and it’s no bother, really,” he smiles as he comes over to you and looks over your shoulder, his arm touching yours as you move back, but he doesn’t back up, the warmth from him seeping through the layers of clothes.

“What are you making?” he asks and you tilt the bowl towards him.

“Sponge cakes, they’re the bases for a wedding cake I’m delivering on Saturday.”

“That must be the master level of baking,” he says, looking at the sketch of the cake you’ve made alongside the recipe, “It looks complicated.” The cake has four layers, each layer decorated with different coloured macarons and intricate flowers made from sugar and Joel traces his finger over the pattern, “Incredibly beautiful, I’d love to see it when it’s done.”

“I’ve got pictures of a similar one on the bakery’s Instagram page,” you say but Joel shakes his head.

“I don’t have Instagram, but my daughter keeps buggin’ me about it, says it’d be good for business if I had pictures of the stuff I make on it. But I don’t know…” he shrugs as if the very idea of social media is beyond him and it makes you laugh.

“She’s right though, it would be good for business,” you say and he shrugs again.

“I might get an account just so I can see your cakes though,” he grins and you smile up at him. He’s still standing very close, leaning his hip against the bench, his eyes flitting down to your lips and back up. Your head fills with the image of him leaning closer, soft looking lips parted as his hand finds your waist.

But he bites down on his plush bottom lip instead, the faintest shade of pink tinging his cheeks, turning to face the kitchen, “I’d better get a start on paying you back,” he says, grabbing hold of his tool belt.

“Ok,” you breathe out, momentarily flustered as you turn back to the cake batter, pulling your eyes away from the way he tightens the belt around his waist, hanging low on his hips.

Joel quickly spots a few other things that need fixing around the kitchen, things you hadn’t even noticed, and gets them sorted in quick succession, a wonky wall shelf, an exposed wire, the squeak on your back door and the glitchy handle on the inside of the fridge.

“Alright, no more getting locked into the fridge,” he says, testing the handle while you dust off your hands.

“Thanks, Joel, really, that one’s been giving me trouble for a while,” you say and he gives you another warm smile.

“Anything else you need help with?” he asks, “Maybe the AC? It’s boiling in here now.” He unbuttons his green plaid flannel and shrugs out of it, the gray t-shirt below is showing sweat stains as he hangs the shirt on your coat hanger.

“Uhm…” your brain stalls as he turns around and looks at you with a hand on his hip, “No, no, the AC works fine, it’s not on though, makes the kitchen too cold.”

“Alright, you’ll just have to put up with my sweat stink then,” he says, “Should we get back to the pie or does it need more time?” His cheeks are pink and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over his scruffy beard as he waits for your answer, his lips curving up in a smile as he catches your eyes drifting over his shoulders, the t-shirt pulled tight over the width of them.

“Ah..umm…no, I don’t think so,” you stutter, attempting to slap your brain back into shape. As a means to distract yourself you walk over to the tall shelving system that holds all your bigger equipment, reaching up to lift down your biggest cake container, “It probably needs about twenty more minutes, I set a timer.”

The container catches on something out of sight up on the shelf and you tug at it but it’s still stuck.

“Oh c’mon, don’t make me get the ladder,” you grumble, tugging at it again.

“Hang on, let me help you,” you hear Joel behind you just as you give the container another pull, and the whole shelf creaks, starting to tilt towards you, a metal bowl clanking onto the floor, hitting your shoulder on the way down.

“Oh!” you gasp, putting up your hands to stop the whole thing from falling on top of you, the heavy Husqvarna shifting and sliding above your head. Suddenly Joel is right behind you, his chest pressed up against your back as he grabs the shelf on either side, pushing it back up against the wall, making the equipment rattle.

“You ok, honey?” he asks, still pressing the shelf back, trapping you between his arms as you exhale.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m good,” you huff, “Fuck, that scared me,” you give a shaky laugh as Joel carefully releases his grip on the shelf and takes a step back, letting you turn towards him, “Thanks for catching it, that could’ve been bad.”

“That could’ve been really bad,” he nods, looking at you with concern, “If that thing hit you, you wouldn’t be walking away. I’ll get it secured to the wall for you right now.”

“It was attached to the wall, at least the guys who remodeled this space said they attached it,” you say as Joel steps to the side of the shelf and looks up at the brackets attached to the wall.

“Yeah, they might’ve, but the screws are coming out of the wall now. Do you have a ladder?” he asks, turning back to you but he frowns as he sees you. “Darlin’, you’re looking a bit pale,” he puts his hand on your cheek, his warm palm making nerves of another kind shiver inside you.

“C’mon,” he says, gently leading you back to the workbench, helping you hoist yourself up to sit on it, “looks like you had a bit of a shock, can I get you somethin’, water maybe?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, giving him a small smile. The shelf tipping had scared you but now it’s his closeness that’s making you jittery. He smells so good, even with his sweaty t-shirt you can smell his cologne, and when he smiles in return, your stomach clenches and you glance down at his lips.

“Darlin’,” Joel says, his voice low as he sees your eyes move back up to his, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips, I’m going to have to kiss you.”

You almost lose your words as his hand finds its way to your cheek again, the thumb caressing across your heated skin.

“Please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes are dark as he leans in, searching yours, and when you put your hand on his arm, his skin is warm, flexing under your fingertips. The scruff on his chin tickles your lips as he brushes his nose over your cheek, prolonging the moment before his eyes slip closed, and he takes a shallow breath.

You don’t know what to expect, a soft peck maybe, a careful first kiss, but not this. His lips finally land on yours with a gentle press, warm and plush. But his hand on your cheek holds you close as he slowly parts his lips and you feel the hot tip of his tongue lick across your bottom lip, begging you to open up. You let him in with a low moan, your hand slipping up his arm, over his shoulder, and you tangle your fingers in his hair. His tongue is gentle but insistent, letting you open up for him, but he doesn’t hold back when you do, every bit of space you give him, he claims. One hand lands on your hip, pulling you closer before he slides it up to your back and you mimic him, feeling his muscles move under the thin cotton of his t-shirt as you run your hand over his shoulder blades. When he steps in between your legs, the full length of his warm chest pressed up against yours, you’re almost embarrassed by how loud your moan is in the quiet kitchen. But Joel licks into your mouth, pulling you closer as if he wants to pull another one from you, letting you swallow down his own groans.

Minutes pass, your face feels hot, flustered, your body weightless as your lips tingle under his. You can hear his heavy breaths into your mouth, his pulse thrumming under your fingertips as you caress his neck, rake through his soft curls. And you can feel his excitement in the way he’s pressed himself against you, you’re just one bold move from hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him back onto the workbench with you.

You don’t know who pulls back first, maybe it’s the sheer lack of oxygen that makes you both separate just a little, foreheads leaning together, your eyes still closed as he runs his fingers across your cheek, tracing your lips.

“Darlin’...” he whispers, his voice low and breathless, “Open your eyes.”

You look up at him, he’s smiling softly, almost in stunned wonder, and you know he’s mirroring the look on your face.

“Will you let me take you out for dinner some time?” he asks, still letting his thumb trace the outlines of your face, “I would very much like to do this again.”

“Any day, Joel,” you reply, leaning into the warmth of his hand as he cups your cheek again.

“Alright, darlin’, then let me get that shelf secure so that you don’t end up killing yourself before I get a chance to do more of this.” He bends to your mouth again, and you part your lips in anticipation, his tongue slipping eagerly into you with a low groan.

Your head spins when he pulls back with a sigh after too short of a time pressed against you.

“You’ve got a pie to take care of too I guess,” you smile at him and he chuckles.

“I’d all but forgotten ‘bout the pie, honey.”

Right on cue the timer goes off and Joel reluctantly pulls away, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter.

“Let’s see this masterpiece then,” he grins, stepping over to open the oven door and pulling out the pie. He puts it down on the counter and gives a low whistle. “That’s a mighty nice pie, if I do say so myself,” he chuckles, looking very proud of himself.

“It’s a fantastic looking pie, Joel, you did great,” you smile and he grins at you.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darlin’. And I’m really looking forward to trying it but I should get that shelf attached to the wall first.”

He smiles at you again, giving your thigh a quick squeeze before he turns and crouches down over his tool box, digging through it.

“You said you have a ladder?” he asks, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, out in the back room, I’ll grab it for you;” you reply and jump off the workbench. The ladder is tucked away in a corner and as you pull it out you hear Joel start up his power drill.

“Here you go,” you say, putting the ladder next to the shelf and Joel gives it a shake, testing the stability.

“Might wanna invest in a new ladder too, honey,” he says, “these cheap ones are not too stable. I’ll pick you up a new one at the hardware store, I get a good professional discount there, save you some money.”

“You’re coming in here and just fixing everything, Joel,” you smile and he gives a little chuckle, shrugging as he gets up on the ladder.

“I just like to make sure everything’s working, don’t wanna see you get hurt over something I could easily fix,” he says.

“I really appreciate it, Joel,” you say and he winks down at you.

“Now, cover your ears, darlin’, this is gonna get noisy.”

You do as he says and he gets to work. It doesn’t take him many minutes to make new holes in the wall, fill up the old ones and make sure the shelf is securely screwed to the wall again. When he gets back down onto the floor he gives the structure a hefty shake and it doesn’t budge.

“Alright, there you go, no more death traps in your kitchen, honey.”

“Thanks Joel, really,” you say, “I feel like you’ve done way much more than I could ask of you, just for teaching you one pie.”

“Make it up to me then,” he smiles, “I’ll get a babysitter and you let me take you out for that dinner on Saturday.”

“How is that me repaying you?” you laugh as Joel steps closer, capturing your chin between his thumb and finger.

“Because it gives me the chance to kiss you some more,” he smiles, bending to find your lips again.

“You’re a very cheap contractor, Joel,” you mumble into his mouth as he brushes his nose against yours while he teases your lips.

“Your kisses are worth a lot more than you think, darlin'.”

Part Four

If you want to try out Joel's Texas Trash Pie, here you go!

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #a bakers dozen #pedrostories #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic

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allbark-no-bite · 1 year

Text

past the texas line.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.4k)

summary: the past comes back to haunt him when Jake gets word that your ex boyfriend is back in town. he makes a trip back home to ensure it stays buried.

warnings: mentions of death and blood, swearing

author’s note: this is a little different than what I usually write, but I was feeling inspired by Zach Bryan’s “Crooked Teeth”. definitely recommend giving it a listen before reading!

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He doesn't remember it being so hot.

Jake wipes his perspiring hand off on the back of his jeans after handing a crumbled wad of bills over to the cashier. Sweat rolls down his neck and causes his cotton shirt to stick to his back as he waits for her to unstick them from each other. Her expression says she's got better things to do than count out his damp dollar bills. He wants to tell her that it's more than enough and she can keep the change, that he pocketed just enough cash for two fill-ups and a motel stay to make the drive.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his eyes when he makes it out of the store, boots treading heavy in the dust. The bell chimes out after him, as though chastising him for leaving in such a hurry. Jake doesn't glance back, afraid that if he does, door of the beat up patrol car parked permanently out front will open and the sheriff will stare at him through his dark sunglasses and say, "Don't I know you, son?"

"Where you headed, son?"

Normally in this kind of situation, Jake would lay on the proper southern manners his mama taught him, answer him with a "Yes sir, I grew up a few mile form here" and then, "No sir, I ain't been drinkin'," and then shake his hand and leave him with a "Thank you, sir. Have a good night." But not tonight.

Jake turns his head away, green eyes squinting as though to avoid the beam of the flashlight—he purposely dips his head down so that the shadow of his hat conceals most of his face. No one comes this far out of town without a reason. By openly showing his face around here, Jake might as well hand him a wanted poster with his name on it.

The tarp in his truck bed flaps persistently in the wind. Jake inconspicuously eyes it through his dusty side view mirror. He can make out nothing but blackness underneath it.

"Camping out by the river for a night."

The sheriff's face remains stoic. He's still shining the flashlight into the truck. "The river?" he asks, sounding suspect about the answer. "Come an awful long away out of town to camp, huh son?"

"Used to go up there with my old man," Jake supplies. It's a another lie. He's only come this way once before and only ever seen the river in passing. He doesn't have to have been to know why people go through the trouble of making the trip out there—why there's nothing alive out there for miles.

Its current is strong enough to drown a man and deep enough to swallow a herd of crossing cattle under its muddy surface, never to be seen again. No one's going to bother to check for a body, not when there's an all too likely possibility of finding more than one.

The deputy sizes up Jake for another moment before seemingly deciding there's not much else he can do to harass him. The kid's license had checked out, there was nothing outstanding on his record, not even a damn speeding ticket—he wasn't surprised to find that he was enlisted in the service, his type usually was.

"Well son," he begins patronizingly. Jake fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's getting the sense that this guy is hankering for a reason to write him a citation. "I don't wanna see you back around here. Understand?"

"Yessir." This time he means it. He has no intention to come back.

Body rigid, hair standing up on the back of his neck, Jake slams the door shut on his pickup and jams the key in, twisting hard as the engine roars to life. He doesn't look back until just before the cruiser fades into the dust in his rear view mirror.

It takes him two days to get down past the Texas line. Jake knows the state like the back of his hand, it's home after all, but crossing back into no man's land causes something dark to settle into his bones. He had buried this place and it's memory a long time ago.

Of course, Jake is smarter than to think that burying something will make it cease to exist. Literally, yes, but figuratively, no. It's only a temporary fix to a problem—a problem that was now coming back to haunt him.

"Buxton's back in town."

The statement had sent him in a cold sweat from across the bar.

He pauses mid conversation, lowering his second beer of the night from his lips. The music is loud and the patrons of the Hard Deck louder, but the men aren't exactly speaking quietly either.

"You sure it was him? Thought he got into some trouble and skipped town?"

"Got into some trouble alright. Can't hardly tell what part of him to look at, he's so fucked up. Looks like someone finally laid into him."

Jake's breathing halts, and although it goes unnoticed by the people around him, his body stills.

"You think so?"

"Dunno, he won't say."

He's straining to hear the exchange between to two men, so lost in the conversation that he doesn't notice you looking at him in concern. "Jake?" Your hand ghosts up his knee to squeeze his muscular thigh.

The sight of your face, delicate brows furrowed in worry, eyes searching—always searching—reminds him to breathe. "Hmm?" he hums, rough hands tugging you into his lap to cover up his pervious distraction. You see right through him—you always do.

"You're distracted," you point out, but the resolve has left your voice now that he's holding you close, lips pressed to your temple. Jake's large hands smooth over your waist, holding you securely to his lap so that he can nuzzle into your neck.

"Distracted by you," he replies while closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath of your scent—safe is the best way he can describe it, home if you asked him to be more specific.

"Jake Michael," you warn, but make no move to stop him. Maybe if your friends had been watching you would have, but they've moved across the bar to watch Phoenix school Rooster at the pool table.

Jake just smiles warmly, relived that you have let the previous conversation drop. He's already planning a way to slip off to Texas for a few days, but for now, he sits back and indulges in the remainder of the evening knowing that you're safe in his arms.

It's strange seeing the land in the daylight. Jake remembers the way all the same. He does suppose that not much change happens to a desert in ten years.

He's been staring at the barren desert horizon through his windshield for close to two hours, watching the heat waves melt off the hood of his truck. He'd seen a mangey looking coyote trot across the road a few miles back, but for the most part there was nothing alive for miles.

Jake pulls off of the desolate road and slows his truck to a stop half a mile from the river. On the off chance that someone finds it, they'll assume it's broke down and pass it by. Stepping out of his truck, he fixes his hat on his head and starts walking.

Every step feels like deja vu.

The heat is almost unbearable, even in the evening. He had hoped by the time he made it this far, the sun would be low enough in the sky for the coolness of night to begin setting in.

San Diego was a culture shock when he was first stationed. He had been terribly homesick and had every intention to move back home eventually. That was until he met you. You and your love for the coast, and an even stronger love for your friends. The Dagger Squad was like family, and Jake came to appreciate your unwillingness to move away from them.

Jake knew he was going to marry you when he met you that first night at Hard Deck, but you didn't always see things that way. It wasn't that you didn't like Jake, really it was the exact opposite. The two of you were attached at the hip—thick as thieves—which is why you never even considered that Jake was interested in something far more than just being friends.

Jake hated your boyfriend. He hated him from the moment he met him, all thick mustache and slick, no-good, easy grin. The devil dressed in a polo and khakis. And he was right to hate him. Jake can count on two fingers the number of times he's seen you cry; both are because of your boyfriend.

The first time he calls you a bitch. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have even blinked at the name. Maybe you would have even laughed in his face. The insult in and of itself means nothing to you. After fighting your way into the Top Gun program, you practically brandished the name with brusque pride. This was more than just an insult.

Jake didn't catch the whole exchange, and you refused to tell him what had happened to lead up to the situation, but he knows that you hadn't wanted him to witness it in the first place.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Your head jerks towards the sound of Jake's voice, and you abruptly step forward as to shoulder past your boyfriend, who shifts reluctantly to let you away from the wall. Your eyes are red, and while he can tell that you're trying not to let it show, your voice is shaking.

"Nothing," you say all too quickly, hardly meeting his eye as you step around both of them. Your boyfriend stands there silently, watching the exchange with a self satisfied look on his smug face, as if daring you to say anything to Jake.

Jake ignores him and instead focuses his attention on you. "Hey—[y/n]," he tries, reaching out to stop you, but you dodge his outstretched hand.

"Let it go, Jake," you order, fixing him with a look that means business; you've always been too good at taking care of yourself. And then you walk off to join the rest of your friends at the bar, rubbing away the wounded look away from your eyes as you go.

The second time is after you've broken up with him. It's actually months after you've broken up with him. You had finally come to your senses after realizing that it was causing a rift between you and your friends.

He grabbed you one night at Hard Deck, wrapped his hand around your bicep hard enough to bruise and whispered something filthy into you ear. Jake knew because of the way your eyes darkened with disgust and your lip curled. He had to fight the urge to spring to your rescue—you were a big girl and could take care of yourself. To your credit, you stood your ground, kept it together until he released you and you could turn away, tears burning in the back of your eyes.

There is no third time.

Jake's standing up from the bar before he even knows what he's doing. Doesn't really know what his intentions are as he follows your boyfriend out of the door—ex boyfriend. But his head is clear as his boots carry him out to the parking lot, crunching the gravel underfoot as he passes his pickup parked out front.

The image of your face, red and splotchy with tears flashes through his mind. He grabs a metal fencepost out of the truck bed. The parking lot is silent besides the heavy crunch on his boots on the gravel and the blood roaring in his ears.

He finds the bastard leaning drunkenly against the side of his truck, the glass of a smashed beer bottle at his feet and another in his hand. He's too buzzed to hear Jake heading towards him. Without stopping to consider his options, Jake lifts the metal rod and swings like he's up to bat and the bases are loaded.

A crack echos through the parking lot.

The fence post catches him in the jaw and sends him sprawling to the floor.

Jake doesn't remember much after that, just that there was a lot of blood—on his clothes, in the parking lot, in his truck. The rest of the night was a frantic blur of adrenaline spurred moment.

A gathered flock of buzzards caw at him with an surprising amount of gall as he approaches the river bank, flapping their black wings powerfully. They scatter only out of irritation before making a brave advance back towards their original post.

Jake takes a wide berth around them. The deeper you get into Texas, the scarier the wildlife becomes. He would rather not know what they're feeding on. He has a feeling they might start eyeing him next if he disturbs them again.

The spot he is looking for is a couple yards past. Thistles are growing up around the fence post. If he hadn't marked the spot, he probably would have walked right past it. It had been pitch black the last time, but as he stands looking over the area, it starts to come back all too clearly to him.

He remembers the sweat rolling down his body despite the chill of the night, the ache in his shoulders from digging—with no moisture to soften the ground, it was like chipping away at concrete. He doesn't remember being scared, not like when his engines failed and his parachute didn't open, just angry and fueled by adrenaline.

Jake looks over his shoulder, back at the road where his truck is parked, then back to the river. The fence post stands there, overgrown by thistles and time.

He's still not scared.

"You're back," comes the barley audible mumble as Jake crawls into bed, curling his body around yours. The bedsheets are cool and your barley clothed body is radiating warmth. After you both resettle, legs intertwined, Jake’s nose tucked into the crevice of your neck, you lapse into comfortable silence. For a moment, Jake thinks you’ve already fallen back asleep.

“Where’d you go?” comes your quite voice.

His sigh is heavy. You don’t press him.

Staring into the darkness of the bedroom, Jake considers lying to you. Isn’t that what he’s been doing all this time? He’s sure you have your assumptions. You’re too smart not to. He pulls you closer into his body, his large hand coming to rest on your heart.

“Texas.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #top gun imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #top gun maverick hangman

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skbeaumont · 20 days

Text

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 1 - Worst Decision, Best Decision

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: You've just finished a Masters back home in England, and, with little idea of what you want to do next, decide to spend the summer in Texas, staying with your mum's cousins, the Adlers. But its not the Adlers who pick you up from the airport: it's their handsome neighbour, Joel. Rating: Teen (for now) Tags/warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU! no outbreak, porn with plot. Word Count: 1.7k

The Texas heat is something else. You’ve hardly been stateside more than two hours and already it feels overwhelming, cloying and claustrophobic. It doesn’t help that the air-conditioning in the airport is sporadic and patchy. By the time you make it through security, into the dry heat of arrivals, your shirt is sticking to your back, hair plastered to your forehead and you’re wondering why you ever let her mother persuade you this was a good idea.

“Go to Texas,” she’d suggested, when you arrived home from your last university term, unsure of what to do or where to begin with starting a life for yourself, “stay with the Adlers – they’re family and god knows Connie would love to see you. Spend the summer there – see what happens.”

And so here you are, too old for a gap year, really, at twenty-five, too young to commit to anything for more than a summer, dragging your suitcase – one broken wheel courtesy of British Airways – through arrivals, wondering if you’ve just made the worst decision of your life. Danny and Connie are strangers but for the fact that they’re your mum’s cousins, though you’ve seen enough photos of them to know who you’re looking for. You look out over the crowded lounge, trying to spot them.

The man your eyes fall on definitely isn’t Mr or Mrs Adler, but he’s holding a sign that bears your name (along with an assortment of hearts and two poorly drawn butterflies). He’s younger than Danny and Connie, maybe late thirties, dark hair curling around his ears, a patchy beard that only accentuates the strong line of his jaw and nose. His eyes – dark, hooded – are searching the crowd of passengers emerging from arrivals. You slow, watching the man, wondering who he is, wracking your brains to remember if the Adlers have a son or brother they haven’t mentioned before in their letters and Christmas cards, but you come up blank.

Eventually, while you’re still wondering who this man is and why he’s got a board bearing your name, your eyes lock with his. He raises his eyebrows – a question – and you sigh, start off towards him, the broken suitcase bumping against your ankles. When you reach him he holds out a hand for you to shake.

“’m Joel,” he says, voice deep, a smooth Southern drawl that you thought only existed in movies, “I’m Danny’s neighbour. They’re sorry they couldn’t be here, they had to take Mrs Adler – Nana – to a hospital appointment. I’m gonna drive you back to theirs, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” You take the offered hand, shake it, trying not to think about how large it feels compared to your own, how much strength seems to rest in the callused palms and thick fingers. “I’m guessing you didn’t make that sign?”

Joel looks at the name card in his other hand, colour rising on his cheeks as he takes in the love hearts and butterflies that have been painted onto it.

“I can’t say I did.” He replies, “You’ve got Connie to thank for that.”

You laugh and he smirks too, mouth curving up with amusement, eyes crinkling as he does.

“I’m parked right outside,” he says, “I can take that, if you want?”

You hand him the suitcase, about to warn him about the broken wheel but he lifts it easily by the handle, the weight nothing to the shifting muscles that stretch the sleeves of his t-shirt.

His truck is huge, obscenely large compared to the cars you’re used to seeing back home in England. You clamber in, take in the toolboxes in the bed, a hard hat strewn on the back seat, large work boots in the footwell that dwarf your own battered Converse.

“‘scuse the mess.” Joel says, getting into the driver’s seat. “Been a busy week.”

“You’re a builder?” You ask.

“Contractor. Me ‘n my brother, though mostly me, if I’m being honest. You?” He asks the question without looking at you, already starting the engine, something grating in the ignition as he does so.

“Nothing, yet.” You reply, pulling your seatbelt on, “I just finished university – college – and I’m still kind of figuring it out.”

“What did you study?”

“Maths, then a Masters in Theoretical Physics.”

“Shit, smart girl.”

Something about the way he says this, his eyes lingering perhaps a little longer than they need to on your face as he does so, makes your stomach flip.

“Know what you’re going to do with it, now you’re done?”

“Not a clue,” You reply, looking out of the window as the city opens out around the truck.

“Well, don’t rush into anything. Nothing like your twenties to spend messing around trying things out.”

“That what you did?”

He scoffs out a laugh at this, gives you a sideways look. “Not exactly. I had a kid at twenty-two and spent the rest of my twenties figuring that out. Still am, really.” He pauses, flicks his sun visor down and taps a small polaroid that’s slid into the back of the mirror. “She’s thirteen now. Sarah.”

The girl in the photograph is pretty, all bright eyes and curly hair. She’s leaning back in a chair, giggling at something the photographer has just said.

“She’s beautiful,” You say, and you can see the pride bubbling up in him as he flips the visor back up.

“Smart, too. Struggles a bit with math, now they’ve started bringing in algebra. I’m not much help, either. Once you get past adding and minusing, I’m lost.”

You laugh at this, grin at him. “I’d be happy to help out. God knows I’ll have plenty of free time, and I like teaching.”

“Might just take you up on that.” He replies, giving you a soft smile in return.

There’s a dimple in his cheek as he does so, visible only through the patchiness of his beard. He seems to get more and more handsome the longer you look at him. Leaning back in the truck, you can’t help but let your eyes trace his profile, the strong curve of his nose, plushness of his lips. It’s more fascinating than the concrete jungle that’s passing by the windows of the truck.

He’s a good driver: steady, reassuringly confident. He lets one arm rest across the back of the truck’s long seat, the other gently holding the steering wheel, guiding the truck down the freeway. If you laid your head back against the seat it would rest in the curve of his wrist. You don’t, but you can feel the heat rolling off of his arm anyway on the back of your neck, warm in contrast to the cool air blowing through the AC unit. You let your eyes gently close, jetlag starting to creep up on you. Your limbs are stiff and sore from the long plane journey. The hot sun beats down through the windscreen, casting patterns on your closed eyelids. It’s peaceful, here, in the truck with this handsome stranger, and before you know it you’ve fallen asleep, head lolling back on the seat.

Next thing you know Joel’s gently saying your name, one large hand on your shoulder, rousing you from sleep. You open your eyes, squint against the bright sun. He’s parked up in the driveway of a large, brick built house on a suburban street. The garage door is open: tools are stacked up inside, ladders and racks of scaffolding. The drive and lawn are neat, a little scrubby from the heat. You turn, look over at a house you recognise as the Adler’s, the one you’ve seen in it family photographs sent with the yearly Christmas card. Your new home, for the next three months.

Joel holds the door of the truck open for you and your climb out, get your feet down on the solid concrete driveway. He moves round to the back, tugs out your suitcase like it weighs nothing, even though your arms are still aching from dragging it through security hours earlier.

“Connie left me the key,” Joel says, reaching a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a brass key on a flowery keyring. “I’ll help you get your stuff in, then leave you to settle in. Connie and Danny should be back in an hour or so.”

The Adler’s house is nice. Quaint, a little dated, décor straight from the 1980s, but it’s homely. You feel settled immediately. There’s a photograph of your mum on the bookshelf, from back when she was a kid, long before she moved from Texas to London.

Joel puts your suitcase at the foot of the stairs, asks if you want him to take it up for you, but you’re not sure which room you’re staying in so you tell him to leave it, that you can sort it out later. There’s a whining from the back room and you look at Joel, questioningly.

“That’ll be Mercy,” He says, moving through the hall to the kitchen, swinging open the door.

A bundle of fur throws itself down the hallway towards you, tail wagging. Joel watches, grin on his face as you bury your face in the dog’s soft coat and wrap your arms around him.

“I’d better head off,” He says when you stand up, brushing fur from your clothes. “You need anything, just give me a shout. You know where I am.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You say, watching him pull open the door, t-shirt bunching up around his shoulders revealing a tanned strip of skin just above the waistband of his faded jeans. “And I meant what I said about helping Sarah with that maths homework.” You add as he steps out onto the porch.

He turns back, shields his eyes from the sun to look at you, mouth turned up in a grin. “And I might just take you up on that, darlin’.”

And then he’s gone, long strides taking him back across the lawn and towards his own house. You lean back against the closed door and shut your eyes, basking in the imprint of Joel’s handsome face etched on the back of your eyelids, wondering if you’ve just made the best decision of your life.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller au #joel miller series

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

“I want to be great or nothing.”

Summary: When world famous rockstar Joel Miller finds himself in some hot water with the press, his PR team suggests fake dating an up and coming actress to refine his image. However, when they actually start spending time together, the happy couple can’t stand each other. Will they be able to turn it around for the cameras or will it all be for nothing?

Warnings: smut indicated with an asterisk, tlou au, fake dating, enemies to ???, Sarah is alive :D

01. Smile You’re on Camera [1.7k]

02. When The Sun Goes Down [2.6k]

03. BWFW [3.8k]

04. Kiwi [3.8k]

05. A plea for tenderness* [7.3k]

06. Blueberry Pancakes* [4.5k]

07. Losing My Cool [1.1k]

08. Never Thought [3.5k]

09. Layla [2.3k]

10. Pine Point [4.7k]

11. Old Friends Die Hard [3.6k]

12. Too Close [2.5k]

13. The Chain [2.6k]

14. From the Dining Table [4.5k]

15. Wonderfully Bizarre [1.2k]

🎸🎸🎸

Drabbles

A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be: You settle into life without Joel

Night Shift: Joel settles into life without you

Tennessee Whiskey: A (somewhat) quiet night as you and Joel adjust to sharing life again

Thank God I Found You: You and Joel talk about going public with your relationship

Gold Dust Woman: Oscars season with Joel

The Actress: Red carpet interviews with Joel

Je te laisserai des mots: You and Joel realize forever doesn’t sound too bad

I Want To Marry You: Joel asks you The Question

Kiss Me Once, and Kiss Me Twice: You and Joel get married

Heavy Metal Drummer: When Joel’s drummer suddenly drops out, who better to fill in than the girl who’s been there since the beginning?

Just A Boy: Joel struggles with your newest cast mate

Small Bump: You tell the girls you’re pregnant

Beautiful Boy: You and Joel find out the gender of your baby

Hayloft: Joel being protective of his family

Choreomania: Sammy tries to figure out if he likes what his dad does

Brooklyn Baby: You and Joel welcome your son

Iris: Sarah and Ellie hold Sam for the first time

Hey Me, Hey Mama: Mother’s Day

Jackie and Wilson: A night in the Miller household

Little Wonders: When Mom Guilt takes over, Joel finds a way to support you

Mama’s Boy: Sam’s going through a phase

Daydream Believer: Daisy seems to know something you don’t

As It Was: You and Joel have an announcement

At Last: Sam doesn’t seem to know the difference between real life and acting

Daylight: An almost perfect Texas day with the Millers

Yo Gotti: You and Joel read thirst tweets together

Beautiful Girls: Your first night at home with your twins

Love You: Joel being the best dad to tiny baby angels

Unknown: You find out Violet has asthma

I’m Still Standing: Actors on Actors: You and Carolina Garcia-Long

My Girls: The first of many Sophia and Violet days

Lucky: The girls are going through a phase

Girls On Film: Joel accidentally starts discourse

I’m Just Ken: A Halloween fashion show with the Millers

Live from New York: You and Joel take on SNL

Please Come Home for Christmas: The Christmas season with the Millers

Bug: The BuzzFeed Puppy Interview

So This Is Love: A Beach Day

Salad Days: The t-shirt coup

The Millers: A Year in The Life: A documentary about your lives

Good Old Days: A SAG-AFTRA Career Retrospective

🎸🎸🎸

Extras 🤠

Joel and sundress season*

Dancing with Joel

Your instagram story 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

ACL with the Millers

Joel’s tattoos

You and Joel find out you’re having a baby

Your reaction to questions about kids

Family headcanons

Random thoughts 1

Random thoughts 2

Honeymoon with Joel

Actress!reader freaking out about Joel on Instagram

Talking about your relationship with Joel

Sammy Insta posts

Family instagram posts

Sophia and Violet

Birthday headcanons

What the kids do later in life

Text threads :D 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

The kids’ instagrams

Grandpa Joel

Grandpa Joel pt. 2

Instagram stories: Barbie edition

Random family thoughts

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #Joel au #joel the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

581 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 5 months

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 1: Can I Buy You a Beer?

You run into someone you don't expect when out for a drink. A continuation of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Yes it's a Javi gif but we're gonna say he's Joel because Joel is in his 30s for this fic, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Austin, Texas

September 30, 2022

You were going to strangle Alyssa.

It sure as hell hadn’t been your idea to go out drinking to celebrate the end of the first month of the school year. Definitely not your idea to do it at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this decade. And it absolutely was not your idea to try to pick up a guy while out at said dingy bar.

But it apparently was Alyssa’s idea of a good time.

You sighed as you watched people go to and from the bar from your seat tucked in the corner. You tried to come up with stories for the people you could see in the dim light, like they were characters in a book you were writing. The biker in a leather vest, you decided, had been an accountant for 20 years when he bought a Harley during his midlife crisis. He’d become a mechanic when he became too obsessed with the bike to be satisfied behind a desk. His wife was pissed but his son thought he was way cooler now. The couple at the end of the bar were on a second… no, third date. She was deciding whether or not to fuck him. You thought it was going to go in his favor.

Alyssa had moved out of the seat next to the guy she’d taken up with and into his lap. You wondered if there was a world record for how far someone’s tongue could be down another person’s throat. It had to trigger her gag reflex at some point, right? Or maybe she didn’t have one. That must be nice. Maybe that was the key to being good at oral. Maybe you’d be better at it if you didn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe you’d still have a husband if you were better at oral.

You downed the last of your Shiner and rapped your fingers along the side of the glass. That was one upside to being back in Texas, at least. Shiner Bock on tap was a nice perk.

Next time you went out with Alyssa, you were driving yourself. If there was a next time.

But you’d probably cave before too long. You didn’t have many friends and you liked her. Even though this night hadn’t been much fun and getting to know her at all had been awkward at first. Alyssa was a few years younger than you and the first time she’d stumbled into your office she had your book in her hands and a wide smile on her face.

“I am so sorry if this is weird,” she said after a brief introduction. “But… I’m in love with your book and I am dying for you to sign it!”

“Sure,” you laughed a little and she passed it to you. You flipped to the title page and scrawled “Alyssa, Thanks for reading. With love, your coworker” before you penned the signature you’d practiced a million times with your agent below and handed it back. She squeaked, a little giddy, before offering to show you the best restaurants near campus. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d grown up in Austin so you had plenty of favorites without any extra help.

Still, you had this strange drive to have Alyssa see you as a normal person. Award-winning author famous was, thankfully, not the kind to get you recognized on the street but it still made you uncomfortable. Book signings and readings were exercises in misery. There was the acute agony of being observed and noted, the strange knowledge that, for these strangers, this brief encounter was going to be something they remembered. They’d remember if you had a mustard stain on your shirt or if there was lipstick on your teeth or if the stress you were under as you traveled from city to city while your marriage fell to pieces around you made you snap at someone. You never realized how keenly you valued anonymity until it wasn’t an option anymore.

The very last thing you wanted was someone who was a fan with an office two doors down from your own.

So, you’d decided to have her be a friend instead. Make it so she saw you as a person and not someone from the inside of a book jacket. The two of you had gone to lunch a few times and out for a quick drink once, too. It had been nice and, ever since, it felt like she had stopped watching you like a pseudo-celebrity and started seeing you as a friend. Or, at the very least, a friendly acquaintance.

So when she’d asked if you wanted to get some drinks tonight, you’d said yes, envisioning the lounge she’d suggested the first time you’d gone out, one with jazz music playing quietly enough that you could chat over it.

That was not where she suggested this time.

But you were already here and edging in on tipsy and if you were going to spend the night alone at a bar and, eventually, at home with your vibrator, you may as well be drunk doing it.

You made your way to the bar and ordered a tequila shot and another beer, drumming your fingers on the bar top as you waited for your drinks.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” a man who had to have at least 10 years on you sidled up next to you at the bar. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ getting your own drinks?”

“No one else was volunteering,” you gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for company so…”

“Don’t tell me you’re here all by your lonesome?” He smiled a lopsided, cocky smile, looking you up and down. The accent felt a little heavy handed and the cowboy hat put it over the top. You wondered, idly, if he was hiding a bald spot under there.

“I prefer flying solo, but thank you,” you said, peering around him to watch the bartender flirt with a girl who looked like she was newly 21 and probably here slumming it at this bar that was far from the school. You sighed and settled in to wait even longer for your drinks.

“Girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be all on her own,” he said, leaning against the bar and blocking your view. “No way someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, a face like that…”

“Oh my face has nothing to do with it,” you smiled, forcing your eyes to go wide enough that you looked a little crazed. “It’s because I’m a murderous sociopath with six bodies buried beneath my house.”

The man just blinked at you, a puzzled look on his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head and you considered, for a moment, timing him to see how long it would take to piece it together.

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice from behind you made you stiffen. “There's a reason she's here alone. This one’s insane, she’d chew you up and spit you out, man. Best you find someone else to try n’take home.”

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Didn’t know she was spoken for.”

You watched the man shove himself back from the bar and prowl off to find another woman to try and bed before turning, slowly, to the man standing at your back. Your heart beat picked up in spite of yourself when you saw him, as tall and broad and somehow even more handsome than ever.

Joel Miller smiled, one of his cocky, lopsided smiles that made his cheek dimple.

“Hey, Goldie.”

***

It was you.

Here, in this shitty bar in his corner of Austin on a Friday night was you.

Joel froze when he saw you, sitting in a corner by yourself, watching the bar with a far away look on your face.

It was a look he knew intimately, even though it had been 11 years since he’d last seen your face in person. You’d get that look when you were thinking about something important, something you wanted to remember. You’d have that look and then you’d open up that gold notebook of yours and write furiously for a minute or two before stashing it away.

“You ever gonna let me read any of that?” He’d teased one day as you sat, curled up in the corner of his couch, your notebook on your knees.

“No,” you scoffed. “Trust me, you don’t want anywhere near this disaster area. It’s basically just the word vomit version of my brain, it’s a mess up there.”

Joel didn’t push you on it but, truthfully, he’d have killed for a chance to see inside your mind for a moment. He wanted to crawl inside your skull and look at whatever you’d let him see. He wanted to memorize you, carry you with him, wrap himself up in you at every opportunity. You felt like home, more than anything else he’d ever had. Of course he wanted to be close enough to you to see inside your mind.

But that was a long time ago. Yes, it had been 11 years since he’d seen you but it had been even longer since he’d seen you when you weren’t pissed at him. In fairness, he was pretty pissed at you, too, but you’d started it.

And he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t know what set you off to begin with. One night it was prom and the next thing he knew, you were gone. Taking off across the country before graduation without so much as a goodbye. You changed your number and your mom wouldn’t give it to him and you were just gone. Like the two of you hadn’t spent every day together for the last three years, like he had all meant nothing at all to you.

Joel saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to your fancy fucking college, intending to find you there and demand an explanation, but that hadn’t gone as planned. He just settled into not knowing and not understanding why the most important relationship in his life had been ripped away from him without a word.

But it had been a long time. He’d moved past the resentment of it and now he was all but awestruck at seeing you again.

“Hey, do you want…” Tommy’s voice trailed off and his eyes tracked where Joel’s were looking. “Holy fucking shit, is that…”

“Yup.”

“Did you know she…”

“Yup.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment.

“Know she was gonna be here?”

“Hell no.”

Joel caught a glimpse of his brother nodding out of the corner of his eye - he wasn’t about to stop looking at you, he was worried if he did you might disappear again - and sighed.

“You gonna talk to her?” Tommy asked after a moment.

“No idea.”

“Shit dude,” Tommy clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Good luck with… whatever the fuck is gonna happen there.”

Joel glared at him for a second but kept his eyes on you. One of the other guys on the crew went to get the first round, something he appreciated because it meant he could keep watching you at a distance. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to say to you and he wasn’t about to just go talk to you with nothing to say.

But then you went to the bar and a guy was clearly annoying the hell out of you and, before he really knew what he was doing, he was heading for you.

“Hey, Goldie.”

You looked at him for a moment. You looked as surprised to see him as he was to see you.

“Hey, Joel.”

He smiled a little wider.

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asked.

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” you said. “Already put it on my tab. But that’s assuming the bartender remembers I exist which seems like it might be aiming a bit high…”

Joel hung over the bar and hit the top of it a few times.

“Hey, Jimmy!” He yelled. The bartender whipped his head around. “Stop fuckin’ around, get my friend her shit, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning back to the woman he was talking to for a second before making you a shot first and then pouring your beer. He set both in front of you at the same time.

“Thank you,” you said, both to Joel and to Jimmy, and you did the shot, wincing as the tequila went down.

Joel whistled

“Shit, you lookin’ to get fucked up?”

“Well,” you coughed a little on the liquor before taking a sip of beer. “I already need to take an Uber home because the friend I came with is currently being devoured by that charming gentleman over there…” You nodded to a man at a table against the wall, a brunette draped across his lap who looked to be surgically connected to the man at the mouth. “So I figured, fuck it, may as well get hammered.”

Joel laughed a little at that.

“Since you’ve got no one else to get hammered with,” he shrugged. “Want to do it with me? Catch up a bit?”

You thought for a second, taking a sip of beer.

“Sure,” you said. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Joel got a beer, too, and followed you back to your table before he settled in beside you. Part of it felt so natural, being next to you, but it was so different, too. You were different, fuck knows he was different.

“So,” he said, watching you. “You’re in town.”

“I am,” you nodded.

“Visiting Anna?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. It had made news, the fact that you were coming to teach at UT.

“Work,” you said. “Moved back a few months ago.”

“So what do you do now?” He asked. “For work, I mean.”

“Teach, mostly,” you said. “I’m at UT now. Literature and creative writing.”

“Seems right up your alley,” he nodded. “Always liked that sorta thing. You ever write that book?”

You nodded, taking another sip of beer.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just one, though.”

“Ever publish it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A few years ago…” Joel laughed and you frowned. “What?”

“You really think I don’t know you wrote a fuckin’ book?” He asked. “Course I know you wrote a fuckin’ book. Jesus, Goldie, your name is on fuckin’ posters and shit! You think I live under a rock?”

You laughed.

“You dick!” You shoved him playfully. “Look, you’re basically illiterate, I didn’t want to assume…”

“Hey just because I do shit besides read does not mean I’m illiterate!” He laughed. “You’re just a nerd…”

“You only finished high school because I’m a nerd,” you rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure your coach was ready to make me an honorary member of the team since me hounding you about homework was the only thing that kept your ass grade eligible.”

“Oh, you were the MVP,” he smiled, watching you take another sip of your beer and you smiled that amused little smile, the one you had when you were humoring him, the same one you’d had since you were 15 years old. “No question about it.”

“Since you know all about me apparently,” you teased. “What’s been going on with you?”

Joel shrugged, taking a drink. Mostly to buy himself time.

Did he want to admit to you that he’d all but taken his life and driven it into the ground since he last saw you?

Not that he ever felt like he had much potential, anyway. You and his mom had been the only people who’d ever really seen anything in him. But then you left and she died and was he even failing anybody anymore? Certainly not himself. And everything he did now he did to make sure he didn’t fail his daughter who, for the last 10 plus years, had been the only thing in his life that made it seem like all the shit was worth something.

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you about her, either. It seemed cheap, to bring her up in a bar to you of all people, one of the only reasons she existed in the first place.

“Kept busy,” he said instead with a shrug. “Workin’ construction. Roped Tommy into it about a year ago, too. His dumb ass kept getting into it with people, told him I wasn’t going to keep bailing him out of jail if he didn’t at least look like he was trying to get his shit together.”

You nodded and took another sip of beer.

“Do you like it?”

He shrugged again.

“Pays the bills.”

“Not what I asked, Joel.”

He looked at you. You were watching him in that keen way you had, your head cocked slightly to the side, your eyes looking at him like you could cut through everything, everything he ever had or was or would be, down into the lanky boy he’d been when he’d first met you.

“Not sure why it matters,” he said after a minute. “But it’s fine, I guess. Crew’s good. Work’s steady.”

“It matters because you deserve something that fulfills you,” you frowned slightly. “Don’t you think so?”

He laughed once, looking at you for a moment.

“Haven’t thought about shit that way in a while,” he said.

Since you left, he added silently. He didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, even though part of him wanted to. Wanted to demand an answer, wanted to yell at you, wanted to cry at you and make you answer for the destruction that you left behind you. Destruction that Joel wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really recovered from, just found a way to live in the rubble of it all.

But you were here now, talking with him again.

“When was the last time we did this?” He asked.

“Did what?”

“Talked.”

You smiled a little.

“You mean besides the time you decided to yell at me about my romantic choices at my mother’s funeral?” You asked, brows raised. “Been a while.”

“Since prom?” He asked quietly.

He watched you clench your jaw before nodding and taking a drink.

“Since prom.”

Joel picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment as you sat with your hands between your knees and looked anywhere but at him. Eventually, you picked up your drink glass again with your left hand and Joel traced your bare ring finger with his eyes.

“Thinkin’ I might have been right about the romantic choices,” he teased lightly and you frowned before he nodded at your hand.

“Ah, right,” you said, extending your hand in front of you and running your thumb over the inside of that finger like you would if there was a wedding band there. “Yeah, it turns out going on a book tour when your marriage is on the rocks isn’t the best way to handle things…”

“Shit,” he shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, Goldie, that…”

You scoffed.

“No you’re not,” you put your hand back in your lap. “You hated him. You said all of three words to Gale and you hated him…”

“OK first of all, his name was fucking Gale,” Joel cut you off. “And second of all, he was a fucking douchebag.”

You snorted into your beer, coughing and choking on it for a moment and Joel clapped you on the back as you held on to the table, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time.

“You alright there?” He asked, leaving his palm in the middle of your back.

“Fine,” you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “I’m fine, I just… It’s so funny, but Gale isn’t even his birth name.”

Joel gaped at you.

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “That asshole chose the name Gale?”

You nodded, still coughing and laughing.

“He did,” you said. “He did, he thought it made it sound him more authorial and academic, he changed it before he started teaching. His birth name is fucking Bradley - his mom still calls him Brad - and I only found out when filling out the marriage license.”

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Joel laughed, his hand still on you. He was touching you. He hadn’t touched you in so long and he was touching you. “Jesus Christ… Sorry if you’re still hung up on the guy but shit, you can do way better than that.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, calming down a bit and nodding to yourself. Joel watched you, uncertain. “Really, it is. I’m not going to pretend like I entirely agree with you but… things look different once you’re outside of the marriage and not in it anymore… Anyway. You married? Kids?”

“Not married,” Joel said, still not sure how he wanted to tell you about Sarah. If he even should, if the two of you were going to just go your separate ways after tonight and never speak again it felt wrong to share her. “Not even dating, really. At least, nothing steady…”

You laughed.

“Christ, why am I not surprised?” You teased. “You always had a way with the ladies. Haven’t outgrown that yet I take it?”

Joel smiled a little.

“Why outgrow what’s fun?”

You smiled a little back.

“Fair enough,” you said. “Don’t you want that, though? Something stable?”

“Is anything stable?” He asked. “Shit, half the people we went to school with now are fuckin’ divorced, what difference does it make?”

“Yeah, I guess I am one to talk,” you said, polishing off your beer.

Joel winced.

“Fuck, not what I meant…”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “I just… it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?”

“Right,” he said, watching you closely for a moment. “Hey, since you’re lookin’ to get hammered and I don’t got shit else to do tonight… shots?”

You laughed a little.

“I don’t know that I want to get that hammered,” you said. “I’m not a teenager anymore…”

“C’mon, Goldie,” he teased. “It’s on me. Plus it was my birthday the other day, gotta do at least one with me for that.”

“Oh shit,” you said. “It was, wasn’t it? You turned 33 on… Monday? Monday, right?”

“Right,” he laughed. “So, you in?”

You laughed a little back.

“Alright,” you said. “You’ve sold me. But I’ve got the first ones, it was your birthday, after all.”

The two of you moved to open bar stools on the end of the bar and ordered the first two shots - tequila - and clinked your glasses together before downing them, slamming them down on the bar top when you were done.

“See?” Joel teased. “You still got it in you.”

“If you say so,” you coughed a little and then laughed.

“Another?” He asked.

You looked at him for a moment.

“Fuck it,” you said and Joel flagged down Jimmy and ordered another round.

By the time it was last call, your friend had come over to say goodbye, her lipstick smudged around her lips and the mouth of the man she’d been draped across, and the bar had gotten quiet, just a handful of stragglers left even on a Friday night.

It took a few shots but you’d given up on keeping any distance from Joel at all, your bar stool sitting against his, your body pressed against his side, your head on his shoulder.

“Hey Jimmy!” Joel slapped the bar top a few times. The man came over and leaned on the bar, looking at you tucked against Joel. “Think you can get me a cab?”

“Sure as hell not lettin’ either of you two idiots drive,” he replied, going to get the phone.

“Hey,” Joel nudged you. “Where… where do you live? Need an address, gonna get you home.”

You thought for a second and then devolved into half drunk laughter.

“I don’t know,” your words were slurred. “Oh fuck, I’ve only lived there like… a few… a few… fuck. When did I move?”

“Before the school year?” He asked.

“Right,” you nodded. “Prob’ly right, that’s… that’s when. S’not long. I don’t know where it is, oh shit…”

“S’OK,” he said, putting an arm around you. “Just… just come home with me, s’fine.”

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your head slightly. “You… you don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind, Goldie,” he said gently. “Never mind, not with… not with you.”

You nodded and dropped your head back to his shoulder.

Joel had to half carry you to the cab and you dozed off against him on the drive, pressing your warm, soft body against his, passed out enough that you were drooling on the shoulder of Joel’s t-shirt, soaking through to his skin. He didn’t mind.

“She gonna be alright?” The cab driver asked as Joel paid him and nudged you awake.

“M’fine,” you waved him off.

“You know this guy?” The man asked, watching you in the rear view mirror.

“Him?” You asked, brows raised. “‘Course I know him, this… he’s Joel, he’s my best friend, s’fine.”

The driver nodded once.

“Good,” he said. “Take care of her, alright buddy?”

“Sure,” Joel said, setting you down in the back of the cab. “Always have.”

He got out and went around to the other door, almost tripping on the curb, before tugging you out of the backseat and against his side. You laughed and then shushed yourself.

“Sorry,” you tried to whisper but failed. “S’late, I should be quieter….”

“S’fine,” he slurred. “The neighbors think I’m trash anyway, not gonna ruin my reputation…”

You snorted at that.

“Assholes.”

He helped you up to the front door and fumbled with the lock, the two of you stumbling in. Julie, Sarah’s babysitter, shot up off the couch, a groggy look on her face.

“Wha?” She blinked for a second.

You yelped and Joel shushed you.

“Sorry,” you failed at whispering again. “But Joel… there’s a teenager in… you’ve got a teenager on your couch.”

“Yeah, she does that,” he tried to whisper back. “S’fine. How’d it go, Julie? Everything OK?”

“All good, Mr. Miller,” she stretched and got up, meeting Joel in the entry way. “She went down at 9:30 after trying to talk me into watching Coyote Ugly…”

“Oh lord,” Joel sighed. “Last thing she needs is to get it in her head that she should be singin’ and dancin’ on a bar…”

“Don’t worry, I said no,” she smiled. “But I think one of her friends at school is obsessed with it, not sure how else she’d know about it… Anyway. How about you pay me next week?”

“Oh shit,” he said, going for his wallet. She laughed.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Not sure you’d remember paying me right now and I’m even less sure you can count.”

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. “You drive safe, alright kiddo?”

“Will do,” she laughed a little. “Night, Mr. Miller. And Mr. Miller’s… friend.”

“Night!” You said, a little loud before clamping your hand over your mouth and laughing. Once the door was closed, you turned your attention back to him. “Ooooo you’re Mr. Miller now.”

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ old,” he said, guiding you inside. “Here, I’m gonna put you to bed and then I’ll take the couch…”

“You absolutely will not,” you snorted. “I’m… I can sleep on the couch, not… not letting you take the couch in your own house. ‘Specially not when you’re old enough to be Mr. Miller.”

“Goldie…”

“I will move and sleep on the floor.”

He sighed and started moving you toward the couch.

“You ever gonna be less stubborn?”

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the p as he set you down. He got the blanket Julie had been asleep under and draped it over you as you snuggled into the couch. “Hey Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Who was that girl?” You asked, eyes already closed. “Why… why did you have a teenager in your house? This is your house, right?”

“S’my house,” he said, tucking you in. “And don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go to sleep.”

You yawned.

“Thanks, Joel,” your voice was groggy. “For taking care of me. Missed you.”

He stopped and looked back at you for a moment.

“Missed you, too.”

He went to bed, trying not to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep on him.

***

The Morning After Prom

May, 2008

The pink and orange of dawn woke you up. You were on Joel’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned so you could feel his skin on yours and your dress was still bunched around your waist from when Joel had slid the straps down your arms the night before.

You enjoyed it for a moment. The feel of Joel’s skin, how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how the early morning light caught in the curls that had broken free of the gel you were sure his mom had put in it the night before. He smelled good, like cologne - the kind that a man would wear, not the Axe shit that drenched the hallways of your school - and soap and a hint of sweat that just felt like the essence of him. You wanted to stay like this with him forever. Be this close, know him in this way. It felt right, it felt beyond just good.

And then you remembered, you weren’t supposed to be here.

“Joel,” you whispered, sitting up from him and shaking him gently but urgently. “Joel, wake up!”

“Hm?” He mumbled, groggy, his eyes opening slowly.

“We fell asleep,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one here to hear you. “We’re not supposed to be up here, we have to go!”

“Shit,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked you over and you were suddenly fiercely aware of how naked you were, how the light of day was creeping in and casting over your exposed skin. Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out…”

“It’s OK,” you said quickly, clutching your dress over your naked breasts as you slid the straps back on. “But we should get home, we didn’t tell our moms that we were going to be out all night, I’m sure they’re pissed…”

“It’s prom,” he said. “Think they expected it to be a late one. But… you’re right, we should get going.”

Joel got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. It wasn’t until you moved your lower half that you realized how sore you were between your thighs, your skirt falling back down to your feet. Joel held your hand for a moment once you were standing and his skin felt hot against yours. You dropped his hand and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You should button your shirt,” you said quietly, nodding to his bare chest. “And… um… Zip up your pants.”

“Oh,” he looked down. “Um… Right. Right.”

He moved quickly as you looked over as much of your dress as you could see and Joel used the glass of the press box as a mirror to adjust his hair.

“Do I look OK?” You asked when he was done, turning so he could see the whole dress. “Not like… not like we….”

“There’s… um…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think we made a mess of the back of your dress, I didn’t think… should have moved it, I guess…”

“Shit,” you twisted, trying to spot it. “Do you think…”

“Just don’t turn your back to your mom,” he said quickly. “Should… should be OK.”

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, that’s… right. OK.”

Joel led the way to his car and the two of you sat in silence on the ride home. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his elbow propped on the door of the car, hand on his mouth, his face drawn.

What were you supposed to do now? You’d never done… this. You’d never been in this position and now you were here with Joel, the person who was your best friend, the person you knew better than anyone else in the world, the person that everything had felt so right with it had been impossible to stop.

But what did you do now?

He stopped in your drive way and sat there, staring straight ahead.

“Thank you,” you said. He looked at you, his eyes a little wide. “For taking me to prom, I mean. It was… I had… It was good. I liked it. It was good.”

“Yeah,” he nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I’m glad I… got to go with you. To prom.”

“Right.”

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to hold onto you and tell you that everything was going to be OK and that you were going to figure this out and it would be you and him together just like it always had been.

Instead, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“I’ve got church this morning,” he said. “And then we’re goin’ to help my grandma in the afternoon so I don’t think I can see you until tomorrow…”

“I’ve got that doctor’s appointment in the morning,” you said. “So… I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you at school?”

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right. I’ll… I’ll see you at school.”

You smiled tightly at him and leaned in slowly to kiss him on the cheek, hoping that he would turn his head and press his lips to yours the way he had the night before.

He didn’t.

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Yeah.”

You went inside and got undressed in your bathroom, looking at the stain on your dress, hoping you’d be able to get the stain of your blood and his come out before your mother noticed and it ruined anything else.

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeee! I'm so excited now that this story is properly going!

I hope you enjoy exploring Joel and Goldie with me. I really love their friendship and the way they care for each other and I think there's so much to explore with the both of them.

I do have an updates blog. Follow it here and subscribe for alerts when I post.

Thank you for being here! It really does mean so much to me to share this story with you. Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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farlydatau · 1 year

Photo

King Of The Wild Frontier Shirt, Davy Crockett Shirt, David Crockett Vintage T-Shirt, Davey Crockett Graphic Unisex Tee, Pride Texan Gift

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bagopucks · 11 months

Text

J. Hughes - More Than I Do Now

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): none!

Bold and Italic is song lyrics

Just italic is like.. flashbacks of sorts?

—————————————

Shoulda known what I was getting in

Fallin' for a boy from Michigan

You love your mom like every Midwest kid

You like driving to Texas

You put up with all my exes

To deserve you, don't know what the hell I did

“Just put that down at the end of the table, honey.” I lowered the glass of wine from my lips, watching Jack help his mother set the large wooden table outside. Jim was on the back deck grilling burgers, kept company by Trevor. Quinn and Luke were playing croquet with Cole.

It was a beautiful summer day. Jack and I had spent most of it tanning in the front yard. Despite his energetic tendencies, he did enjoy laying with me in the sun. Anything to aid his appearance. Vain, but perhaps not in a bad way. Jack valued his looks.. there was nothing wrong with that.

When Ellen and Jimmy showed up, the whole lot of us spent hours in the living room catching up. Ellen and Jim only had three kids, but one would be none the wiser with the way they talk to their boys’ friends. They were parents to anybody and everybody their kids liked. I found it to be the same with myself.

Jack set down a bowl full of fruit, peeking up from where he stood to look at me. He still didn’t have a shirt on. The boys usually ate without much clothing at all at the lake house. I wondered if Ellen would get on them for that today.

I watched Jack look toward his mother, saying something I couldn’t hear from where I sat, in my boyfriend’s wooden lounge chair. Ellen nodded, they crossed paths and stopped only momentarily so the woman could kiss her son’s cheek. Then Jack grabbed a piece of fruit and waltzed his way over, a dorky smile on his face.

“Watermelon?” He offered, and I leaned forward as he lowered the sweet snack to my lips. I took a bite out of the chunk of fruit, and Jack popped the rest into his mouth.

I can't love you anymore

I can't love you any more than I do now

You can try to talk me down

But I can say without a doubt

I can't love you any more than I do now

Jack was a Diamond in the rough. Especially when it came to Jersey.

The first time we met, he had been all over me in a bar. I let it slide because he was cute. Perhaps I let too much slide when he took me back to his place. But there, I met his brother, and if not for Luke asking me to stay when the morning came around, Jack and I never would have been together. I had the youngest Hughes to thank for our relationship.

Jack sat in the grass next to me, and I moved my arm from the armrest of the chair, resting my hand on the back of his sunburnt neck. I placed my glass of wine down on the opposite arm rest.

“Dinner almost ready?” I asked, watching his head turn to look up at me. Through those dark lashes. With those big blue eyes. The same ones I admired endlessly.

I fell in love with him even more every day. Since day one.

Bring me coffee every morning

People said there’d be a honeymoon phase. That it would end. That we’d go through hardship. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, per superstition, but I knocked on wood any time I thought, ‘that never happened.’ Sure, Jack and I weren’t perfect, but we never gave up on each other. We never chose something over the other. Jack was my rock, and I was his.

The first morning we spent together showed me the type of commitment he had, that I never would have seen in him from a one night stand.

“Hey, Lu.” Jack and his wild hair had passed by me completely in the kitchen. Luke mumbled a, ‘hi,’ before retreating back into his own room with a bowl of cereal. When Jack turned to look toward the door, only then had he noticed me.

“Hey.” A surprised look faded into a delighted smile. I smiled back.

“Hey.” I spoke in a sing-song tone.

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Coffee?”

We spent that morning leaning into one another seated at the island, sipping on our customized mugs full of caffeine.

We spent the next two weeks going on dates before we finally made it official.

You're fun even when you're boring

“Can we do something?” I muttered as Jack threw his weight against my side, leaning into me like a cat seeking attention.

“No.” His big old smile never ceased to make my heart flutter. His mischievous eyes watched me as he slowly leaned further, until he was laying across my lap. I broke into a fit of quiet laughter, resting my hands atop his stomach.

“Jack.” I complained, inching one of my hands beneath his shirt, only for him to jump at the cold feeling.

“Quit!”

We didn’t have to do much to be satisfied with one another.

And you like me even when I've been a bitch

Like said before. We weren’t always perfect. Sometimes Jack got on my nerves, and sometimes I got on his. Especially during my period. It’s no excuse to be mean, but when one has a bad day, they’re prone to be irritable.

“Jack! Just fuck off!” He’d been trying his hardest to help from the moment the sun rose. He was doting and caring, but admittedly overbearing. I didn’t have the heart to tell him until I couldn’t handle him, until I simply couldn’t do it any more. He looked hurt, confused, lost, but Jack simply stopped talking and laid down next to me in bed. Cuddling was the one thing I’d actually wanted that day, but Jack had been in and out so much trying to find a fix, that I felt I hadn’t been able to ask for it. He turned onto his side and pulled me back into his chest. He grabbed the heating pack from the bed and rested that over my stomach as well.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

“S’okay.” Jack kissed my shoulder.

Always so understanding.

You watch me while I'm gettin' ready

You lighten up my heavy

You're so good lookin' it kinda makes me sick

“How does this look?” I turned to Jack, wearing the fifth outfit of the night. Correction, the fifth one I had tried on. Jack sat on the bed, his phone face down in his lap, eyes raking me over for the thousandth time.

“Good.”

“Jack,” I whined his name, my head falling into my hands. “I can’t go- I just won’t go.”

“Hey, hey. Woah.” I lifted my head when I heard Jack stand, his hands finding my hips immediately. “Baby, you look beautiful in this. And you looked beautiful in the last four outfits too.” Jack reached for my hands, squeezing them and pressing them to his chest. “You’ll be the prettiest woman in the room.”

“Are you sure?” I sighed, still uncertain. Jack was always there to reinforce my foundation when it cracked.

“I know. For a fact.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead, and it caused me to smile. “What about me?” He asked with a playful grin.

“You look pretty good too.” I removed one of my hands from his own to smack his ass.

Jack’s innocent laugh that followed was one I’d never forget.

I can't love you anymore

I can't love you any more than I do now

You can try to talk me down

But I can say without a doubt

I can't love you any more than I do now, aye, aye

“How’s that ring feel?” Jack asked, pulling me from my trance. I looked back down at him and smiled.

“Feels perfect.”

“You like it.. yeah?” He’d only asked that question a million times since the night he proposed days ago.

“I love it, Jack. You picked a perfect ring.”

“Mom helped.” I moved my hand from the back of his neck to run through his hair.

“Why don’t you sit here so I can see you better?” I asked, gesturing toward the arm of the chair. I didn’t really care about seeing him, it was more so about kissing him. Jack slowly stood up and parked himself on the arm of the chair, looking down at me.

“Better?” He asked. I reached upwards and rested my hand beneath his jaw, guiding his lips to my own.

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

You're the angel to my devil

We broke apart when I felt something fall into my lap. One of those heavy croquet balls. I glared at Luke.

“Fuck off, blondie.”

“Woah- babe!” Jack’s shocked tone amused me.

The pot to my kettle

“You wanna go?” Luke teased.

Jack and I both looked at him immediately.

“Let’s get him.” Jack spoke, practically reading my mind. Luke’s eyes went wide.

“Good idea, Jack-O.” I agreed.

“Never mind- forget I said anything.” Luke held his hands up in surrender. He’d fight his brother any day, but he knew better than to fight Jack when Jack was fighting in the name of my honor.

To some I might be an acquired taste

Jack started to get up.

“Wait hold on-“ I grabbed Jack’s arm. He looked down at me in confusion. “Let him think you’re still mad. Psychological torture will harm him more than a few bruises.” The brunette looked down at me with concern and adoration in his eyes.

You tell me I'm your favorite person

Hey, what we've got is working

And the years have only made it more that way

“You’re so amazing.” Jack spoke in a playful yet dreamy tone, leaning in once again to kiss me. I pulled away after a moment, smiling up at him.

“I love you.” I whispered.

“I love you too.”

I can't love you anymore

I can't love you any more than I do now

You can try to talk me down

But I can say without a doubt

I can't love you any more than I do now

“Alright, kids!” Jim finally called hauling a plate full of burgers off the deck and down toward the large picnic table. The boys all seemed to drop what they were doing to find their places at the table. Jack stood up, and our hands met almost instinctively. I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand as we found our way toward the table. I couldn’t see myself spending my summer any other way.

“Alright. Everybody get situated.” Ellen put her finishing touches on the table before she and Jim took seats at the head of the table in fold-out lawn chairs. Jack and I sat across from one another, closest to Ellen. Then the food started getting passed around. Jack and I quickly got swept up in the surrounding conversations, eating and enjoying the company of those we valued most.

Heaven knows that I've attempted

“Alright, who wants dessert?” The sun had begun to set, and the once depleted energy immediately spiked at the mention of sweets. Ellen stood up as the boys all chimed in with various versions of, ‘yes.’ Like dogs, they all watched Ellen disappear inside. Jack was the first to turn back.

Couldn't even put a dent in

There were those blue eyes.

He flashed me a smile.

I blew him a kiss.

I can't love you any more than I do now

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield

356 notes · View notes

50calmadeuce · 3 months

Text

Ch. 1: Going Home

In the small barn situated in a quaint rural Wisconsin town, you stood behind the Holstein cow, your task just completed. You carefully peeled off the long blue disposable veterinary glove, a necessary tool for checking if cows, or even horses, were pregnant. With a practiced motion, you tossed the glove into the nearby blue bucket, a routine part of your work in veterinary care. The rustic environment of the barn, the sound of animals nearby, and the smell of hay and livestock created a familiar and comforting atmosphere.

"Well, Hank. She's due any day now," You state, stepping out of the stall. In your jeans, rubber boots, and flannel shirt, you fit right in, despite the stray wisps of chestnut hair escaping your French braid.

Hank, an elderly man dressed in blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt, acknowledged your evaluation with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Doc. I'm not sure how I can repay you…hold on a moment. I recently had a pig butchered. I can offer you some of that meat," he proposed, his weary gray eyes brightening with the suggestion.

"Only if it won't affect your winter provisions. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way."

"No, we're set for now. We still have some meat left from the two deer my sons hunted last fall."

Extending your hand, you replied, "That's more than fair. It'll also take care of any future issues you might have with Mildred."

Gratefully, he clasped your hand in his. "Ever since you arrived here, Doc, you've been a godsend. I can't imagine what we'd do without your help."

You exchanged a firm handshake.

"Remember to call me if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"I sure will. Thanks once more."

Picking up your bucket, you made your way out of the barn and towards your truck.

You positioned your bucket at the rear of your truck, swung open the door, and settled into the driver's seat. Retrieving your cellphone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail from your husband. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. His communications typically revolved around financial matters, prompting you to wonder about the nature of this particular call.

You tapped the voicemail icon on your iPhone and listened:

"Y/N, it's me. I'm just calling to inform you that I'm on my way back. Not to Texas, though, but to Wisconsin. I'll be landing at Rusk County Airport, aiming to arrive by around 6 p.m. tonight. I'll see you then."

After the message ended, you disconnected the call.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin busied himself packing his travel bag, which lay sprawled on his bed.

"Just to clarify," began Javy 'Coyote' Machado, his best friend, with a tone of disbelief, "you've got a place in Wisconsin?"

"Yup," Jake affirmed.

"And you've never actually set foot in it?"

"Nope," Jake responded, keeping his focus on his packing.

"And who looks after this house?"

"My wife does," Jake said nonchalantly.

Coyote's eyes widened in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes," Jake replied simply.

Coyote took a moment, the weight of Jake's revelation sinking in. "Hold on, Jake. We've been friends for nearly ten years. And in all that time, you've never once mentioned that you were married, or even hinted at it."

"Well, I am," Jake said matter-of-factly, continuing with his packing.

Coyote, in disbelief, threw his hands up and scanned the room. "Okay, then who is she? And how come there aren't any photos of her around here?"

"We've both had a lot on our plates," Jake replied, finishing his packing with a zip of the bag.

"But how busy can a married couple be to not even see each other?" Coyote pressed.

"She's been occupied with her studies," Jake explained.

"Studies? What, is she training to be a doctor or something?"

Jake remained silent for a moment, his face giving away nothing.

"You're serious? She's actually a doctor?"

Picking up his bag, Jake finally responded, "She was studying to become a large animal veterinarian."

Coyote, visibly taken aback, managed to stutter, "I just... I'm at a loss for words."

Jake, shifting his focus to the task at hand, asked, "You still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course," Coyote replied, still processing the revelation.

"Great. Then let's hit the road." Jake motioned towards the door, ready to embark on his journey.

Steering your black Ford F-250, you navigated the lengthy driveway leading to your residence. This log cabin, a product of an inheritance and some astute financial decisions, had been your project three years prior.

As the cabin came into view, you admired the expansive structure that occupied thirty acres of farmland you had acquired. Beyond it lay a sizable horse stable, complete with an attached training ring, a testament to your love for animals.

Approaching the house, you pressed the button to activate the garage door. The door of the 4-car garage rolled open, and you smoothly parked your truck inside, ready to disembark.

You reached over to the passenger side to grab your backpack, then opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Heading towards the door that led into the house, you moved with a purpose, the sound of the garage door closing behind you echoing in the spacious enclosure.

This door opened into the mudroom, which was equipped with a fully functional laundry room, a bathroom, a pet washing station, and ample storage space. As you let your backpack fall to the floor, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was your mother-in-law calling. Pressing the answer button, you greeted her warmly while switching the phone to speaker mode.

"Hi, Cindy," you said, freeing your hands as you continued your entry routine.

"Y/N, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Just fine," she replied.

"So, you understand why I'm calling then?"

You released a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down. "Yes. He called and left a voicemail."

"Y/N, he still loves you." Cindy's voice carried a mix of hope and concern.

As you settle onto the bench and begin to remove your boots, you respond, "I know."

Cindy probes further, sensing your hesitation, "That doesn't sound very convincing."

With a slight shake of your head, you reply, "Well, sometimes Jake isn't very convincing either."

"Just take things slow," Cindy advises gently. "I believe all you both need is some time together again."

"I'll do my best," you promise, the conversation steering towards a hopeful possibility.

Cindy's voice softened further, her tone imbued with the wisdom of experience. "I understand that it's been difficult, and there might be a lot of unresolved feelings between you two. But remember, love is about finding your way back to each other, even through the toughest times."

You paused, absorbing her words. It was clear she spoke from a place of deep understanding and perhaps her own experiences. "You're right, Cindy. It's just… hard to know where to start."

"Start with honesty," she suggested. "Open up to each other about your feelings, fears, and hopes. It's the foundation you can build on. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you, supporting you both."

Your smile reflects a moment of gratitude. "Thanks, Cindy." Glancing at your watch, a sense of urgency creeps in. "I need to go. It's already 5 o'clock, and I've only just got back from work. Jake mentioned he'd be flying in at 6."

"Alright, dear. Please keep me updated on how things go. Oh, and thank you again for the horse fly repellent. It's been working wonders."

"Of course, I'll let you know. And you're welcome. Take care, talk to you later," you say, wrapping up the conversation. After hanging up the phone, you pick up your backpack and make your way to your bedroom, ready to prepare for what comes next.

After managing to squeeze in a quick shower, you slipped into some clean clothes. With the temperature taking a dip, you opted for a pair of jeans, a heavyweight sweatshirt, and hiking shoes to keep comfortable. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, practical for the drive. Steering your Expedition, you headed towards the local airport to meet Jake.

Aware that Jake piloted a Cirrus plane—a fact made all the more personal by your having paid off the aircraft this year—you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension about the reunion.

Turning onto the road that led to the airport, you soon arrived and parked your truck outside your hangar, ready to greet him.

Casting a look at your watch, you noted it was ten minutes to 6. A memory flashed through your mind, a reminder of one of your husband's traits: Jake was always punctual.

As you closed your eyes, your head resting gently against the headrest, a vivid memory began to surface, transporting you back to the moment you first met Jake:

You stepped through the doors of the rustic bar in Austin, Texas. Your college friend Avery right next to you.

"It's only one night. We deserve it after yesterday," she said.

The rustic bar was alive with the energy of live music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the grueling exams that had consumed your life for the past few weeks. Avery, ever the instigator of your small adventures, was right; a night of unwinding was long overdue.

Navigating through the bustling crowd toward the bar, you felt a sudden nudge that almost set you off, ready to confront whoever was behind it. But that impulse faded the moment you turned around, finding yourself looking into the most captivating green eyes you had ever seen.

The surprise of the encounter rendered you momentarily speechless. The owner of those captivating green eyes was quick to apologize, his voice a warm, deep timbre that seemed to echo directly to your core.

"Sorry about that," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "This place is a bit more crowded than I expected."

You found your voice, albeit a little shaky from the unexpected jolt of attraction. "It's okay, really. I should have been watching where I was going."

He chuckled, and it was a sound that made you want to hear more of it, to keep him talking just so you could listen. "I'm Jake," he extended his hand, the action both friendly and bold.

Taking his hand, you felt a surprising jolt of electricity at the contact. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Y/N. You here to see anyone in particular tonight?" Jake asked, his gaze still locked with yours, as if the crowded bar around you had faded into the background.

"Just here to unwind with a friend," you replied, gesturing toward where Avery had found a spot at the bar, seemingly engaged in trying to order drinks.

Jake nodded, understanding. "This place is perfect for that, but you're not from around here."

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head slightly, impressed by his observation. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's the accent."

You chuckled, self-consciously touching your throat as if you could feel your accent there. "I guess it's a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Only a little," Jake teased, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But it's a good thing. Makes you stand out." He thought a second. "Sounds a bit midwestern to me almost Canadian."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "That specific, huh? Well, you're not wrong. I'm actually from Wisconsin, so you're pretty close with the Midwestern guess."

Jake nodded, impressed with himself. "I have an ear for these things. Wisconsin's a beautiful place."

"It is," you agreed, your thoughts briefly wandering back to the familiar landscapes of home.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm here for a college class."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

"Veterinarian. I'm a large animal veterinarian."

Jake's interest visibly perked up at your answer. "A large animal vet? That's impressive. There's always a need for folks who can handle the bigger animals, especially around these parts."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and passion for your chosen field. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine since I was little. I love animals, and getting to help them, especially the larger ones that require a bit more... let's say, finesse, has always been fulfilling for me."

He leaned against the bar, genuinely intrigued. "Sounds like it's more than just a job to you."

"It is," you admitted. "It's about making a difference, however small it may seem. And the connection with the animals... there's something special about it."

Jake smiled, his admiration for your dedication clear. "I can see that. It takes a special kind of person to do what you do. And speaking of making a difference, my family owns a ranch not too far from here. We've got horses, and every now and then, we run into a situation that could use a vet with your expertise."

The mention of his family's ranch piqued your interest. "Really? I'd love to hear more about it. Working with horses has always been a dream of mine."

Just as you were caught in that moment, Avery approached, holding a beer out to you. "Here's your beer," she said, handing it over before her gaze shifted to Jake. "And who's this?"

"Avery, meet Jake. Jake, this is Avery," you made the introductions, facilitating the exchange between your friend and the man with the captivating green eyes.

The sound of a plane engine snapped you out of your reverie, prompting you to open your eyes and gaze skyward. Above the airport, you spotted the small Cirrus plane, unmistakably Jake's. You watched as it gracefully circled above, aligning itself for a smooth approach before finally descending towards the runway in a well-executed landing.

As the plane taxied closer to where your vehicle was parked, you observed the engine powering down. Stepping out of your truck, you began to walk slowly towards the aircraft. The door of the plane opened and out stepped a figure you recognized instantly – a six-foot tall man with dirty blond hair. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes, complemented by a brown leather jacket. It was Jake, finally there in front of you after what felt like an eternity.

But it wasn't the young Jake you remembered, this Jake had turned into a manly Jake. He still had the same piercing green eyes, but his face had turned more rugged, yet still handsome. His presence seemed to exude a quiet strength and a sense of maturity that the younger Jake hadn't possessed. There was an air of confidence about him, tempered with a hint of world-weariness. His green eyes, still as piercing as you remembered, now seemed to carry deeper stories, reflections of experiences and growth. His face, more rugged and lined than before, bore the marks of life's trials and triumphs, adding to his manly allure. Yet, despite the changes, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, a connection to the past that lingered in his expression.

He closed the door when you reached him. "Y/N," he said.

"Jake."

The two of you looked at each other.

You cleared your throat and looked away. "Our hangar is over there." You pointed to the hangar behind your vehicle.

"Our hangar?"

"Yes. I had it built after you purchased the plane."

He looked at you questioningly and then he observed the hangar with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You built that?"

"Yes, it seemed practical for storage and maintenance," you explained, maintaining a professional tone despite the undercurrent of emotions swirling between you.

Jake took a moment to absorb this information, his gaze shifting from the hangar back to you. "That's... impressive. Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation mixed with the awkwardness of the moment.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling the complexity of the situation. After a brief pause, you added, "Shall we get the plane stored?"

He nodded, a silent agreement to focus on the task at hand, perhaps both of you grateful for a momentary diversion from the emotional reunion.

"You can put your bags in the truck. It's unlocked. I'll go open the hangar and get the tow bar."

""How about I assist you with opening the hangar and retrieving the tow bar once I've put my bags in the truck?"

"That's fine," you agreed since you had no clue what you were doing anyways. You watched as Jake went to the other side of the plane and grabbed four bags.

You quickly made your way to Jake's plane and grabbed two of the bags and then placing the bags in the back of the Expedition. Jake did the same with the other two and then started walking towards the hangar. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was all new to you, and the prospect of being involved in something as unfamiliar as handling a plane was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

After securing the bags, you walked towards the hangar, where Jake was already busy. As you approached, he looked up and gave you a brief nod, acknowledging your presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him work. He moved with a practiced ease, clearly familiar with every aspect of the aircraft and the hangar.

"Need a hand?" you asked, eager to learn and help.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sure. Could you grab the other end of this tow bar?" He held out one end of a long, metal bar to you.

You took the offered end, feeling its weight. Jake guided you on how to position it correctly, explaining how it was used to move the plane. Together, you maneuvered the bar into place and began the task of towing the aircraft into the hangar.

As you worked alongside Jake, you appreciated the quiet efficiency with which he operated. There was a sense of competence and confidence about him that you found reassuring. It was clear that he was in his element here, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills.

Once the plane was safely in the hangar, Jake secured everything and turned to you. "Thanks for the help. Not everyone would jump in like that."

You shrugged modestly, feeling a small sense of pride. "Happy to learn something new. And it's not every day I get to say I helped tow a plane."

His chuckle resonated warmly in the hushed atmosphere of the hangar. "Well, you did a fantastic job."

"Thanks," you responded with a bashful smile. "Uh, dinner should be all set by the time we get back."

"You made dinner?"

"Not exactly. His name is Chuck. I encountered him during a trip to Wyoming."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Another man is living in my house?!"

You sighed. "I honestly don't know how to answer that because you really haven't even seen our house."

Jake ran a hand through his hair turning away and then turned back to you. "I never cheated on you, Y/N. I came here to work on our marriage. You could've at least told me."

You looked at him. "I'm sorry. I forgot, my husband hasn't really contacted me for four years. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I needed help running a ranch."

Jake stared at you.

"Chuck is my chef and, I guess, butler. He helps around the ranch."

Jake's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "You have a chef and a butler now?"

You nodded, trying to keep your tone even. "Yes, Jake. Running the ranch alone has been tough. Throw in my hours as a Veterinarian, you never know. Chuck has been a huge help, not just in the kitchen but around the property too. He's been indispensable, especially with you being away for so long."

There was a moment of silence as Jake processed this new information, his features softening slightly. "I see. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you here alone. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a small sigh, the tension easing a bit. "It's okay. We both have a lot to catch up on. Let's just focus on getting back home for now."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "You're right. We've both been through a lot, and we have a lot to talk about. But right now, let's just get back home and take it one step at a time."

After closing the hangar, you both walked towards the truck, there was a comfortable silence between you. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding and the beginnings of reconciliation. You could sense that both of you were cautiously optimistic about what lay ahead.

Once in the truck, you started the engine and pulled out of the hangar area and started to drive home.

The familiar landscape passed by the windows, each mile bringing you closer to a place that held both memories and possibilities. You glanced over at Jake, who seemed focused on the road but also more at ease than he had been earlier.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"You would've done the same thing for me," you replied.

Jake glanced your way, a small smile playing on his lips. "Always, Y/N. No matter what happens, I'll always come for you."

Those words, simple as they were, carried a weight of meaning that filled the cab of the truck. You leaned back in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the comfort of his presence and the hope that, despite the challenges, you both might find a way forward together.

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me

@guacam011y

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #hangman #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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trickphotography2 · 4 months

Text

'tis the damn season | Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 5.7K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 1 | Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 2

“Mama. Cece.” Julie blinked, unable to trust her bleary eyes. But no matter how much she tried to clear her vision, Jake Seresin stood in his mother’s kitchen.

With a woman who had a possessive hand on his chest and a smug expression on her face.

And a large diamond on her finger.

“What are you doing here?” Mama Seresin demanded, emotion coloring her voice as she hurried across the kitchen to throw her arms around her youngest son. “You said you couldn’t make it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he answered, eyes locked on Julie before lowering when he hugged his mama. Julie tore her gaze away, mentally cataloging the differences from the last time she’d seen him. Like the new crows' feet decorating his eyes, deeper smile lines carved into his cheeks, and the fact that he seemed larger. He’d gained muscle in college, shifting from a wiry teenager to a strong military guy. And now… now he looked even bigger than he had the last time she’d seen him, with a new seriousness that he hadn’t possessed before.

The woman studied her, eyes narrowing briefly as they swept Julie’s frame. Apparently satisfied by the too-large t-shirt and ratty jeans, the woman’s eyebrow twitched before returning to Jake’s mother.

“Well, you sure managed it. And whose this?”

“Mama, this is Shayla. My, uh…fiancee.” Pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes darted up to meet Julie’s again, and he gave her a strained smile as his mother gasped. Julie forced herself to smile at the couple and push away the awkwardness of her ex-fiancee announcing his new engagement.

“Fiancee?” Mama Seresin echoed.

“Hi,” Shayla beamed, ignorant of the sudden tension. “It’s nice to meet you! Jakey’s told me so much about you.”

“Has he, now?” the older woman said, tone a syrupy sweet that belied the brittle irritation underneath. Julie caught Jake’s eye twitch and pressed her lips into a thin line to avoid smirking. Unless things had changed, he hated being called Jakey. It had been his brother’s go-to nickname growing up to tease him about being little and got heavy rotation once Jake started to call him BJ. Julie was convinced that Bill Junior now insisted on being called Will because, during a wrestling match after too much spiked egg nog, Jake had called him BJ in front of Ally the first Christmas she visited the ranch.

Jake had returned to Annapolis with a few bruised ribs that Julie had heard all about when he complained about his physical training. Bill was never called BJ again, and everyone respected his wish to be called Will.

Shayla turned her gaze to Julie, who was pulled from her musings as the other woman grinned. “You must be Allison.”

“No.”

“That’s Cece.”

“Julie, actually.”

“Oh,” Shayla frowned, nose wrinkling in confusion while glancing between Jake and Julie. “I just thought, since you’re here so early…”

“Just stopped by for breakfast and some eggs,” Julie shrugged, lifting the basket. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for work. It was nice to meet you, Shayla. And... congratulations on the engagement. Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake took a small step forward as though to hug her and paused when Julie shuffled backward. “Thanks, Cece.”

“I’ll walk you out, honey,” Mama Seresin said, walking over to Julie and placing a hand on her lower back. As they exited the kitchen, the two women heard Shayla clear her throat.

“So, is her name Cece or Julie? And who is she?”

“Julie,” Jake replied. “She’s… she’s an old family friend.”

“Jake? Jake fucking Seresin?” Lucy demanded as Julie laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes.

“Yup.”

“What the hell is he doing back here?”

“Well, I’m guessing the fact that it’s Christmas and he’s engaged probably has something to do with it.”

“I can’t believe that fucker is engaged again.” Julie felt her lip twitch at her friend’s comment. But just as she was going to reply, a chime sounded, alerting them to someone using the drive-up teller services. “Hold that thought,” Lucy said, sliding off her chair.

Taking that as a sign to actually start working, Julie sat up and logged into her computer. One of the other bank tellers had called out sick that morning, so she was helping to cover the desk rather than sitting in her office processing loan applications. Given that it was just a few days before Christmas, there were only a few applications to get through - a couple of car loans and small business ones.

Stretching, Julie grimaced when she felt her back crack a few times. She’d been up late again working on an order and felt every hour she’d leaned over her kitchen counter to make sure that the 200 hand-drawn decorations were right. She still needed to pipe ganache into the macaroon shells before boxing them up and driving the two hours to Amarillo to deliver. Taking the last-minute order for a holiday party had been a mistake, but the extra money offered for the rush would go straight into her moving fund.

Just after three in the morning, Julie called it quits and passed out on the couch. Two hours later, her phone had gone off to remind her to head to the Seresin ranch for her weekly breakfast with the family. As much as she wanted to beg off, she’d offered to make cinnamon rolls, and Allison, pregnant with her first baby, had made her swear to include extra caramel. Not one to piss off a pregnant woman, Julie dragged herself off to the shower and quickly drank a cup of cold coffee before getting in her car. Since moving back from Austin two years ago to care for her dad, the Seresins had checked in on her.

It was hard to think of a time the Seresins hadn’t been a part of Julie’s life. Her mom had been best friends with Mama Seresin and had gotten closer after falling pregnant at the same time. When Julie was in third grade, she’d been spending the night at their house so her parents could celebrate their anniversary, and she woke up to Mama Seresin telling her they needed to get to the hospital.

She tried not to think about that night too much, but flashes of it invaded her dreams every February. Glimpses of Jake and Will, confused as their mom bundled her into the car with tears on her cheeks. How dark it was as they flew down the road to the hospital in the neighboring town, snow hitting the windshield. The crowd of firefighters - her daddy’s coworkers - in the emergency room. The sad looks they gave her. And then the confusion of seeing her daddy, who never cried, sobbing as he pulled her into his arms and told her that Mama was gone.

As much as Julie missed her mother, she’d been blessed with abundant family. Not only had the Seresins taken her in and treated her as one of their own, but so had the firehouse. The mainly volunteer force had adopted her, making sure that she never wanted for anything. On nights when her daddy couldn’t stay in their quiet home, they would go to the station and sit with the men on shift. Julie learned to cook and bake with the rookies, spent nights playing poker while betting Oreos, and learned how to make trick shots at the pool table.

Even after being away from Magnolia since she was 18, it had picked right back up when she’d moved back after Daddy’s cancer diagnosis. He’d reluctantly stepped down as the town fire chief when it became too hard to manage his treatment and work. Still, it wasn’t uncommon to find him in the firehouse with his men when Julie was at work. She would come home to find Mama and Mr. Seresin sitting in the kitchen, dinner already in the oven. The three of them had ganged up on her and convinced her to re-enroll in pastry school, shifting from the in-person program in Austin she’d been attending at night to the online one.

So, after days spent at the bank, she would sit at the kitchen table and practice knife skills, how to make meringues and buttercreams, candied fruits, the science behind bread making, and how to decorate. There were also classes on operating in the hospitality industry and starting your own business. After taking pictures of her assignments and submitting them, the pastries went to the firehouse, work, or the Seresin’s house.

Soon, she was getting requests. A coworker asked her to make a birthday cake. One of the firemen asked for cupcakes. After posting a picture of cookies decorated with royal icing, she got a message asking if she would make some for a baby shower. A batch of macaroons dropped off for Mama Seresin’s quilting club led to three women reaching out for her flavor list. On one memorable occasion, a grandmother finished her banking deposit and promptly asked Julie for “one of those fancy cakes” for her anniversary.

Magnolia was no longer content with grocery store pastries. And, while Julie was happy with the practice, the amount of people wanting her baking was overwhelming. It had taken her dad sitting her down after a long day trying to design a cookie order for her to start charging for more than just ingredients. To her surprise, there hadn’t been much pushback when she’d put out a price list the next time someone asked her to make something.

To keep her Austin friends in the loop, she’d made TikToks as she baked. At first, there were only a dozen views and comments from her friends. When she included videos of her making her orders, the Magnolia residents started to follow her. And then, unexpectedly, a video of her dad helping her heat seal cookies while she flooded another batch went viral. Older videos of her cakes suddenly got thousands of views and comments. Her DMs were flooded with messages asking if she shipped. She received requests from brides asking for her website.

The sudden interest was overwhelming, and Julie was inundated with orders. In her spare time, she built a website that got thousands of hits. After work, she would stay up late baking to ensure she could ship orders. Weekends were spent driving around Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico, making deliveries. She was a nervous wreck when she booked her first wedding and spent the entire seven-hour drive to Fort Worth terrified that she would be in a car accident and destroy the cake.

When Daddy got really sick, all of that fell by the wayside. The bank let her take a leave of absence, and she took a semester off of school. After filling her orders, she shut down her website. She posted a video saying she was taking a break from baking and making content. Her life narrowed to the hospital room, listening to the steady beeping of her daddy’s heart monitor and the hiss of the cannula helping him breathe. A revolving door of people kept them company in the hospital, making her daddy laugh with some story from the job or growing up in Magnolia. There was always someone to sit with him when she was persuaded to go home to shower and spend a few hours in her bed.

But when the time came, she was alone to hold his hand and whisper in his ear that it was okay to go and to give her love to Mommy.

Julie spent the next few months dragging herself to the bank and collapsing into bed. Her friends from Austin flew in for the funeral and tried to convince her to move back, but it felt too soon to leave. There was too much that needed to be handled, and the idea of selling the house she grew up in and permanently leaving Magnolia wasn’t something she could face.

After ignoring her TikTok for months, Julie forced herself to open the app and read the comments. Watching the videos with her dad hurt, but she loved seeing how much her followers loved him. So, after having a bit too much wine, she decided to break out her cookie sheets for the first time since he went into the hospital and made his favorite - simple, classic peanut butter cookies - and shared the news. As they baked, she leaned against the counter and sobbed. Her followers sent their condolences and told her to take care of herself.

Eight months after his passing, Julie was slowly reopening her shop. She only accepted orders that would be filled in a few weeks rather than months in advance. It severely cut down on her wedding orders, but it was nice not to have that added stress. With Magnolia as her home base, she was still doing a bit of travel but fitting in her baking around her day job. Daddy had encouraged her to take the leap into being a home baker full-time and even left her enough money to set her up to do that for a while, but Julie was reluctant to tap into it before moving.

The front door opened, and Julie looked up from her computer and smiled at the man entering. Dressed in his blue pants and grey polo with the fire logo, Captain Drew Pine strolled in, eyes locking on her. “Hey, Jules,” he said, grabbing a withdrawal slip.

“Hey Drew. What brings you in today?”

“Need to get some cash. Promised to buy some candy bars from Charlie’s daughter for her fundraiser.”

“You know there’s an ATM outside, right? Could have saved you a trip inside.”

“But then I wouldn’t see you,” he grinned. Lucy, apparently done with the transaction at the window, snorted.

“Well, that’s nice of you,” Julie replied, taking the slip of paper and license he slid across the counter. “How’s everyone at the house been?”

“Good. We got a new rookie who's learning the ropes. Thankfully, his fire skills are better than his cooking ones.”

“That bad?” she chuckled, opening the cash drawer. “You want this any special way?”

“A twenty, ten, and fives would be great. He’s definitely no you when it comes to his desserts - made some brownies the other night, and Rich nearly broke a tooth.”

“Is this your subtle way of asking me to bring something by?” Tugging off his baseball cap, he ran a hand through his black hair and chuckled, brown eyes crinkling.

“Am I being that obvious?”

“Just a little.” After counting the cash out for him, Julie propped her chin on her fist and hummed. “I have a huge order I’m working on right now, but I can probably drop something off your next shift.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Jules. And maybe I can take you to dinner for a thank you?”

“Not necessary,” she replied, pink staining her cheeks. “I just appreciate everything y’all did for my dad.”

“Brian was one of our own,” Drew shrugged. “We miss him, too.” Chewing her inner lip, she nodded, willing herself not to cry. “So about that dinner?”

“Raincheck? I’m swamped right now,” she replied after clearing her throat.

“Those rainchecks are stacking up,” he said, a little less confident this time.

“I know, I just…business is kind of crazy right now with the holidays.”

“Right. Well, if you ever need anything, you know how to get in touch with me.” After tapping a finger to his cap, he nodded. “I’ll see you later, Jules. Lucy.”

“Drew,” Lucy replied, collapsing into her chair. When the door closed behind him, she whirled to face Julie. “Put the poor man out of his misery and say yes one of these times.”

“I’m - ”

“Not dating ‘cause you don’t know when you’re gonna leave,” the other woman cut her off, rolling her eyes. “No one said you have to marry him. Just go out and have fun. Hot, sexy, sweaty fun with the fuckin’ fire captain. And tell your married best friend all about it so I can live vicariously.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Julie scoffed, turning back to the computer.

“You’d have adorable babies with Drew,” Lucy added under her breath. She chose to ignore that.

Jake lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling. After Cece left, Mama insisted that he and Shay nap since they’d been traveling since 1:30AM. But, while he was a bit tired, it felt wrong to be trying to sleep when the rest of the family was out doing their chores.

Heaving a sigh, he got up and stretched, feeling his back crack from being in the uncomfortable twin-sized bed. Shay was staying down the hall in one of the guest bedrooms. When she’d shot Jake a look that clearly said she wasn’t happy with it, he’d shrugged - it was his parent’s house, so they would be playing by their rules. Besides, he wasn’t exactly upset by having some physical space between them. Once they returned to San Diego, they would have to figure out the living situation with a baby on the way.

Besides his time in the dorms and the few months Cece had been with him in Virginia, Jake hadn’t lived with anyone since moving out. He liked the peace of coming home from work and knowing everything was where he left it. The idea of merging his stuff with Shayla’s was overwhelming - he wasn’t exactly a neat freak, but he liked his space tidy. Her two-bedroom apartment was filled with products to test and cluttered as hell. He hoped that, since they had seven months before the baby came, they would have plenty of time to figure out the logistics of marriage and co-parenting.

After peeking in to see that Shayla was sleeping, Jake went downstairs to the empty house. With a cup of coffee in hand, he slipped on his shoes and stepped onto the back porch. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the familiar scent of home - crisp air and the heavy odor of manure - and listened to the cows mooing. With a glance back at the house, he descended the few steps and made his way to the horse barn.

Soft whinnying met his ears as he pushed back the door and was hit with a rush of warm air. He couldn’t help but grin at his older brother standing outside the last horse stall, leaning against the railing and frowning. But when his eyes turned to meet Jake’s, there was a momentary look of confusion before he pushed away from the stall. “Didn’t Mama send you to bed, squirt?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jake replied, striding across the barn and hugging Will. Over his shoulder, he saw his sister-in-law stepping out of the stall and closing it behind her. “Hey, Ally.”

“Hey, Jakey,” she smirked, gently shoving her husband out of the way and hugging him. “It’s okay to call you that, right? I heard it was on the approved list of names now.” His eye twitched, knowing that the family had already talked about him and Shayla.

“Definitely not. The only exception will be this one,” he added, hovering a hand over her stomach. “I could deal with being Uncle Jakey for him.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she grinned, rubbing a hand over her pregnant belly. Turning to her husband, she leaned in to peck his cheek. “Tink’s all good. I’m gonna go get another one of Julie’s cinnamon rolls and then hit the road. I’ve got an appointment at the Perry’s in an hour and need to stop by the house first.”

“The doc said you shouldn’t have too many sweets,” Will frowned, resting a hand on his wife’s stomach.

“Julie’s don’t count. Besides, your kid is the one making me want it.”

“Cece made those?” Jake asked but was promptly ignored.

“Pretty sure they do. And don’t pretend that I didn’t see her give you another tray of them to take to the house.” Ally scoffed and shook her head. Recognizing his defeat, Will sighed. “Want me to drive you to the Perrys? Now that Jakey’s here, he can help Pops with the milking.” Jake rolled his eyes, then looked away when Ally tilted her head and smiled at her husband.

“I’m good, honey. ‘Sides, you might traumatize the city boy by actually puttin’ him to work. Probably doesn’t even remember how to use the milking machines since he hasn’t been home in six years.”

“Ha, ha,” Jake scoffed, feeling slightly ashamed. “You know I pilot an 80 million dollar jet, right?”

“Shut up, squirt, I’m talkin’ to my wife here,” Will said, reaching out and shoving his brother.

“Speaking of!” Ally snapped, turning and pointing a finger at him. “What’s this your mama said about a fiancee?”

“Yeah, I thought you broke up with her.” The brothers frowned at one another, and Jake’s eyes darted away.

“Well, things change.”

“Can’t have changed that much,” Will pressed. “You were pretty set on it when you got home.” A flush crept up Jake’s neck, and he couldn’t help but glance at Ally’s stomach. Catching it, Will scowled.

“She’s not…”

“We haven’t told anyone.”

“You stupid son of a - ”

“What?” Ally demanded, glancing between the two men.

“Seems like Tyler’s gonna have a cousin,” Will said through grit teeth.

“What?” Jake glanced at his sister-in-law and gave her a weak smile.

“Surprise.” With a polite smile, Ally hugged him.

“Congrats, Jake. That’s exciting news. You gonna tell Mama and Pops while you’re home?”

“That’s the plan. Wanted them to get to know Shay before telling them, though.”

“Well, good luck with that. I’ve gotta go, or I’ll be late. We’ll talk later, alright?” After sharing a quick kiss and a significant look with her husband, Ally left. Jake scrubbed a hand through his hair as his brother let out a heavy sigh.

“I guess congratulations are in order. I’m assumin’ that’s why you’re engaged now?”

“It’s the right thing to do.” After a long silence, the older man sighed again.

“Alright, squirt. We’ll keep your secret, but you gotta tell Mama soon, or she’ll figure it out and be pissed. Ally tried to keep it a secret, and then Mama brought her a baby blanket and said she had a dream she’d need it.”

Jake shook his head and smirked. His mama and her dreams… she’d told him he’d be a pilot one day and live by the beach. She’d also been the one to tell him that he and Cece would give her grandbabies.

But that had just been wishful thinking for two women who were best friends and pregnant at the same time.

Julie leaned against her car and closed her eyes as the tank filled. Her hands were cramped from spending three hours piping ganache and assembling macaroons and decorative boxes. The three larger cardboard boxes sat on her backseat, ready for delivery in Amarillo. After taking a couple hours off work, she’d finished the order just in time to jump on the road and make her delivery time.

And, with any luck, she would be home by 10:00PM. She needed to finish some cake pops for the library holiday party, which shouldn’t take too long. With any luck, she could be sliding into bed around 1:00AM.

A car door closed, and she forced her eyes open to see who had joined her at the gas station. And then had to blink to make sure that she wasn’t imagining those green eyes.

“Cece.”

“Jake,” she replied, pushing off her car and glancing at the gas pump. Her tank had to be almost full by now. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched him circle his truck and reach into the bed to retrieve two gas canisters. After setting them at his feet, he swiped his credit card and frowned at the machine, one hand planted on his hip. Turning her gaze back to her own pump, she let her eyes glaze over as she watched the numbers tick upward.

Finally, it popped, startling her out of her daze. She quickly returned the nozzle to the pump and turned to click the gas cap onto her car. She saw Jake watching her out of the corner of her eye and forced herself not to look. He spoke again when she reached for her door handle. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Inhaling sharply, she lifted her head to meet his steady gaze. He had that stupid, pitying look she’d gotten so used to over the last year. But for some reason, his hurt more than anyone else’s. “Thanks.”

“I would have come home for the funeral, but - ”

“Your mom told me you were deployed. It’s fine. Thanks for the flowers.” Seeing that arrangement at the funeral home had been a surprise, along with the simple note.

So sorry for your loss. Your dad was a good man, and he loved you so much. Thinking of you.

Love, Jake

“Least I could have done. How… how have you been?”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “It’s… everyone’s been so amazing and kind. Especially your family.” She caught the twitch of his eyebrow and the briefest look of confusion. “They’ve gotta be happy your home. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” he agreed. “But it’s not like Magnolia ever changes.”

“I mean, we do have a fancy coffee shop now,” Julie smirked, knowing full well that he was a black coffee drinker, just like his daddy and brother. He rolled his eyes, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “There’s been some change, but you’re right - it’s mainly the same.”

“You, uh… you planning to move back to Austin, now that…”

“Maybe. Or Dallas. Or maybe out of Texas. How’s California?”

“Great. I think you’d like it.” That startled a laugh out of her.

“I meant for you. Your dad told me you moved out there a couple of years ago.”

“Oh,” Jake said, blushing. “Not bad. I’m stationed in San Diego now, so it feels more like California than Lemoore. And there’s no snow,” he added, glancing up at the grey sky threatening more flurries as the sunset.” At her heavy sigh, he turned back to see her slowly blinking. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just… I need to get on the road.”

“You should have plenty of time to get home before it starts.”

“I’m headed down to Amarillo, so I’ll drive back in it.” He frowned, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders. He’d seen that exact look many times before tucking her into bed. As if on cue, she covered her mouth while yawning and then blinked away tears when opening her eyes wide.

“You’re stayin’ the night down there?”

“No, just a quick trip.”

“That’s four hours round trip in good weather.”

“I know.”

“Cece… are you okay to drive?” A tired smile crossed her lips.

“I’m fine, Jake. I’ve got my coffee and an audiobook, and I’ll pull over if it gets bad.” The idea of her pulled over on some highway, alone and in the snow, made him anxious. He’d hated it when she would call him from a rest stop to let him know she was pulling over to sleep while driving to see him in flight school. No matter how many times he offered to get her a hotel, she’d always said it wasn’t worth it for a quick cat nap. So Jake had kept this phone in hand and begged her to call as soon as she was back on the road. He felt like he could breathe again after hearing her voice and held her tighter every time she got to him.

Jake remembered all too clearly the night that he’d woken to his mama crying and taking Cece to the hospital after the accident. How her pops had looked at the funeral as they buried her mama. The way Mr. Ryan screamed at Jake for being reckless and irresponsible when they snuck out one night when they were twelve, and he taught her how to drive the feed truck in the field. When they’d left, his mama had held him and dried his tears, explaining that he was just being protective of his daughter. Unlike the other 15-year-olds, Cece hadn’t gotten her learner’s permit and had to wait until 17. Mr. Ryan only relented after she’d thrown a fit that left her face red and tearstained and made her practice driving at the firehouse.

They didn’t tell anyone about her taking the wheel on their late-night drives, and Jake wasn’t surprised when she passed her test with flying colors.

As the first snowflakes started to fall, it was on the tip of his tongue to offer to drive her. But as he opened his mouth to offer, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Grab me a kombucha while you’re out. I need something other than sweet tea and water.

Gritting his teeth, Jake dismissed the text from Shayla and looked up to see Cece watching him. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just Shay wanting something.” Cece took a deep breath at the mention of her name and blew it out, misting white before her.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you around, Jake.”

“Let me know when you’re home safe?” The request was out of his mouth before his brain caught up. Her hand froze on the door handle, and she glanced at him, something familiar and warm flickering in her eyes before disappearing.

“I’ll be fine, Jake.”

“At least tell me you’ve got an emergency kit in there.” When her brows furrowed, he ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “Cece.”

“It’s not that bad of a storm, Jake. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t move,” he ordered, stepping away from the gas canisters and circling the back of the truck to lower the gate and climb into the bed. Grabbing a large bag from the toolbox, he jumped down and stalked over to her, holding it out. “Take it. I’ll tell Pops you have it.”

“I - ”

“Take it, or I’ll drive the whole way behind you to make sure you get back safe.” The determined set of his jaw made Julie scowl. She’d seen that look too many times to not take it seriously. Biting the inside of her lip, she reluctantly took it, pointedly ignoring how his warm fingers brushed hers. “Text me when you’re home.”

“I’d need your number to do that.”

“It hasn’t changed.” The challenge in his gaze made her tip up her chin, and she refused to confirm that she’d kept it all these years. She thought she saw his eyes dart down to her lips for a moment but pushed that thought away. Clearly, she was exhausted and seeing things.

“Bye, Jacob.” Her clipped tone was one that he’d heard after so many arguments. Nights that she’d slammed a door in his face or hung up, ignoring his attempts to call her back.

It was the last words she’d said to him before she’d driven out of his life and shattered their future. But at least this time, there was fire behind them instead of resignation.

He opened his mouth to retort when his phone vibrated again. When his hand slipped into his back pocket, Cece pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod, turning on her heel.

Their eyes met as she pulled away from the pump, and Jake was hit with a wave of deja vu.

It was close to midnight when Jake crept down the stairs to the kitchen to retrieve his mother’s phone. After unlocking the device - the code was her wedding anniversary, just like every code in the house - he quickly pulled up her contact list.

Cece hadn’t changed her number.

Locking it, he pulled his own phone from his pocket and leaned against the counter. His finger hovered over her name but he hesitated before calling. When the screen dimmed, he let the phone fall onto the counter and hung his head, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

He was engaged. To another woman. Texting his ex-fiancee when his pregant fiancee was upstairs editing a video wasn’t exactly good husband or father material. Jake knew he needed to buckle down and focus on his relationship with Shayla if he was ever going to make it work. And part of that meant doing exactly what Cece did to him - leaving her in the rearview mirror.

The image of her yawning at the gas station flashed through his mind, quickly replaced with the visceral memory of her falling asleep in his arms. He could still smell the coconut shampoo she used, and feel her cold toes pressed to his shin. It never mattered how warm it was, she was always cold.

Quickly, he grabbed his phone and typed out a message.

Did you make it home safe? The message flashed as delivered, and he waited for a response. But the phone locked as he waited, and he pushed off the counter to get a glass of water.

It wasn’t until he’d kissed Shayla goodnight and crawled into his bed that his phone lit up again.

Pulled over and slept for an hour. Just getting home. Thanks for the blanket.

Jake read the text again. Frustration that she’d even driven alone in the storm, and slept in some random spot on the road, mixed with relief that she was safe. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, and he almost typed out a message telling her how reckless it was to park on the side of the road when it was snowing, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he simply liked the message and turned off his phone. He needed get some sleep - he’d be joining his Pops and Will with their chores in the morning.

In town, Julie pulled out her piping bags and glitter before settling down to get back to work, a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

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

Read Chapter 3

Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem; @buckysteveloki-me; @fanficfandomlove; @maeleeme; @djs8891; @kmc1989; @justenoughmadness; @shanimallina87; @lynnevanss; @dempy; @emilyoflanternhill; @midnightmagpiemama; @sordidfairytale; @vivalas-vega; @eloquentdreamer; @roosterforme; @mizzzpink; @memoriesat30

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#top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #'tis the damn season fic

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honorarybuckley · 1 month

Text

like all bad decisions eddie doesn’t mean for it to happen. it’s supposed to be a photo shoot. completely innocent. he should have known nothing with evan buckley is ever entirely innocent.

evan, or buck as he prefers to be called, has never been one of his students, but it’s a small campus and he’s heard the rumors: fifth year senior, president of his fraternity, art major, infuriatingly charming, and elusively single. he’s slept his way through the life drawing models, no matter the gender, and rarely shows up for class yet has a decent gpa.

the real thing doesn’t match the stories however. not entirely. behind the camera, his preferred medium apparently, he is professional, respectful, and competent. there is a hint of flirtation but in that way that seems effortless, a trick to put his subject at ease. and it works on eddie almost too well.

they talk about him while buck shoots and somehow eddie winds up practically sharing his life story. from growing up in texas to his brief stint in the army and why he chose to teach ethics.

he tells him about his son, christopher, surprisingly fast and buck lights up with a smile that makes eddie ache in ways he knows he shouldn’t.

it isn’t until the privacy curtain is being pulled back before he’s gotten his shirt back on that it happens. buck stands there, a few inches taller than eddie, hand on his belt and lip tucked between his teeth, eyes tracing every inch of eddie’s exposed skin.

before eddie can ask what he’s doing, buck is leaning in close. there’s no hesitancy as his mouth finds eddie’s and oh, he shouldn’t. but he does.

my submission to @texasbama’s post

#not tagging this as fic because i like to think i’m a slightly better writer than this lol #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #two guys one soul #911 #911 abc #christine.txt #professorxstudent au

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morallyinept · 4 months

Text

A full character analysis on MARCUS MORENO from the film WE CAN BE HEROES.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Marcus Moreno

Nickname(s): None noted

Appears in: We Can Be Heroes, 2020 (First heard on Missy's bracelet at approx. 03:21, first appearance seen on screen at approx. 03:23)

Age (if known): Unknown/not confirmed - assumned late 30's/early 40's

Nationality: American, not confirmed exactly from where, however the film was largely filmed in and around Austin, Texas, featuring a lot of familiar buildings and architecture from real life Austin, as favoured by the director.

Sexuality: Straight

Family: Daughter, Missy Moreno. Mother, Anita Moreno. Deceased wife, unnamed.

Spouse/Partner: Marcus is a widower. His wife died, presumably, when Missy was younger. Her name isn't revealed in the film, or how she passed away exactly.

Relationship Status: Single/widower - Marcus currently still wears his wedding band

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English/Spanish

Education: Not confirmed, however it would be prudent to assume Marcus has obtained high school/college education at least. Marcus is also leader of the Heroics, so assumed further education in training.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Single father/leader of the Heroics. His card that he swipes to get onto the transit to take him down into Heroic's HQ reads Special Agent.

Special Skill(s): Master swordsman with dual katanas, magnetic powers that enable him to keep a constant grip of his katanas. Marcus is able to fly with the aid of a device attached to his utility belt. Marcus also leaps really high into the pit of aliens. Marcus is also skilled in martial arts.

Notable Colleague(s): Miracle Guy, Shark Boy, Lava Girl, Anita Moreno

Marcus's ID swipe card briefly seen:

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None visible

Other Markings: Freckles on neck

Eye Colour: Brown

Prominent Feature(s): Moustache, wears glasses

Injuries: Marcus falls and crashes, lower back first, into an upturned car when his flying device is broken by the aliens, but he quickly regains composure and get's back up

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: loyal, brave, strong

Marcus' mother and Missy's grandmother, Anita Moreno, trains the Heroics. Her nickname is abuelita, which is Spanish for grandma. She has a secret training ground hidden in her garden and is presumed to have trained her son, Marcus, too.

Marcus is a widower, his wife died when Missy was much smaller, but it is not known the exact cause of her death. After her passing, Marcus made a promise to Missy not to do frontline battle alongside The Heroics anymore, and to remain working at Heroics HQ at his desk instead. He feels conflicted having to break his promise to Missy when the aliens invade and he has to suit up.

Marcus' wife wasn't a superhero with powers, she was human, however Anita tells Missy that she was the real strength behind Marcus, enabling him to be a great leader.

Although Marcus knows he is no match on his own, as the only Heroic left, against all the alien entities, he still tries as he tells Missy "a good leader leads by example."

Both Marcus and Missy's communication devices are engraved with MM which is their mutual initials.

Marcus' garden appears to have a swimming pool and what looks like a hammock. The kitchen is large with two TV's evidenced. His kitchen and garden have a lot of Spanish influences in the decor.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene in kitchen) Green round neck t-shirt, grey jeans, black rimmed spectacles, communication watch on left wrist

Outfit 2 - (Dropping off Missy scene/Heroics HQ scene) Light blue long sleeved shirt, dark blue silk tie, navy blue slacks, black belt, black shoes, black rimmed spectacles. Black leather jacket worn later at HQ

Outfit 3 - (Facing off against the aliens scene & remaining scenes) Black round neck t-shirt, black cargo pants, black steel toe-capped boots, black tac vest, black fingerless gloves, black elbow protectors, black belt with Heroics logo metal belt buckle

Accessories: Black rimmed spectacles, communication wrist watch device on left wrist engraved with MM his initials, wedding band on wedding ring finger, looks to be possibly platinum rather than gold, Marcus is able to fly with a device that seems attached to his utility belt.

Close up details of Marcus' costume:

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Marcus has two, black handled and leather wrapped katanas (Japanese style fighting swords) which are mounted on a plaque at his desk in Heroics HQ. He can seemingly "call" them to him by opening his hand and they fly into his grip. It is debated whether he has a magnetic force that attracts them to his hands, or if he is psychically able to "call" them to him. However as it is never confirmed in the film, most assume the former.

He is a master swordsman and able to wield the katanas confidently and effectively.

Marcus is trained and skilled in martial arts and is in peak human condition to fight.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Marcus drives a dark silver/grey Toyota, which looks to be a Camry model. His car appears modified inside to tune into Heroics HQ via the dash computer.

Marcus flies using a flight device attached to his belt.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Marcus' full dialogue from the film, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Marcus Moreno Fandom Wiki Page, Behind The Scenes: We Can Be Heroes, Pedro & Christian Slater interviewed by Guppy

Samples of Marcus' Wardrobe - Wrist watch info obtained via Styleofpascal IG

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#marcus moreno #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno we can be heroes #we can be heroes #PPCU #pedro pascal character database #pedro pascal character study #pedro pascal character analysis #marcus moreno character analysis

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grogusmum · 1 month

Text

Class of 1974 Taking Chances Part 3: All In

Javier Peña X F!Reader

RATED: EXPLICIT 18+

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: oral sex (f receiving) some swearing, As always, see something? Say something. Pop into my DMs and let me know so I can add anything I overlooked.

SERIES SUMMARY: Javier graduated from high school in 74', it's 1989. On a sort of whim he decides to go to his class reunion and sees his old flame, you.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Javi arrives in Vermont and is ready to take the plunge.

Part 2

Javier turns onto a dirt road, passing three large mailboxes, the faded red one has your last name and a little handprint in sky blue on it. A rippling hayfield and what has to be an ancient beech tree complete with a tire swing are to his left and an old stone wall with raspberry canes growing through it on his right. Javier can’t help but think he's entered a Norman Rockwell painting, and wonders if he's up for that, if he can fit into that. A DEA agent, who bent the rules into pretzels "to get the bad guy".

He has to take this chance; he knows he will regret it if he gets cold feet. Like last time with you and then with Loreena.

Driving past the tree, the road bends to the left and a farmhouse with an attached barn, common in New England, comes into view. A kid in overalls is in the dooryard with a black dog. He turns and calls into the house.

Then there you are, t-shirt, jeans, and tall Wellington boots, a pair of work gloves in your hand, and all trepidation washes away. Javier gets fully out of his fastback and swings the door closed. His hands settled on his belt. He looks down at his shoes and then tilts his head up a tick, his eyes raised to meet yours, eyebrows up in question.

Is this okay?

"Javi?" You ask, astonished, a smile nevertheless spreading across your face. Then you break into a run, gloves forgotten in the grass as you all but crash into him. His arms immediately wrap tightly around you; your feet leave the ground for a moment.

"You're here," you confirm, "you're h- I - wait, is everything okay?"

Your last conversations have been hard ones, Vermont and Texas are just so far, it feels more than just distance when it's not temporary. You feel it’s unfair to ask him to come to Vermont, to give up on his work and be so far from his father, and Javier knows you have a whole life here, making a living as a farmer, no easy feat these days, not to mention with a kid to raise.

"I thought we agreed long distance wasn't cutting it."

"It wasn't," Javier cups your cheek, his eyes roving your features with adoration.

"But I thought we- we decided... what's changed?"

"Me," Javier looks you full in the face, his chestnut eyes trained softly on yours. "I've changed, and I want you, wherever you are."

The corners of your eyes prickle, and you shake your head slowly in awe. Taking his face in your hands, his beautiful face, and slot your lips to his. You're glad he's got a good hold on you because your legs may never work properly again. When you finally come up for air, Javier takes his aviators off and looks at you, his eyes glassy too.

“Come on inside, let's have some lunch,” you take one of his fingers and give it a gentle tug as you lead him in the house. You give him a lopsided smile over your shoulder, and he huffs a laugh, again and again he wonders how he ever let go of you.

On the porch, you give your son, Benjamin a nod to come into the house he and Murphy the Dog, comply together.

Javier first smells the savory soup that must be on the stove. There's music playing from a radio. He takes in the house, from the outside it’s a picture of Americana, inside it's far more eclectic. The plaster walls above the wood wainscoting are painted in colors, rooms of sky blue, barn red, sage green… the floors are hodgepodge some are stained a warm honey color, while others have been painted, old folk art hook area rugs warming them up. Your love of theater, music, movies, and books is evident, from the marquee posters, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and instruments, not just an upright piano that looks like it came from a school but a guitar, ukelele, some instruments he doesnt recognize, and some kind of brightly colored hand drum beside a basket of equally colorful small percussion instruments. Then Javier remembers you saying in the winter you run a sort of music playgroup for little kids to help pay the bills.

Your kitchen is sunny yellow, large with a high tin ceiling with fans hanging down. It feels like the center of the house, it’s heart. Not only a large round scrubbed wood table with plentiful mismatched chairs, but an overstuffed armchair by a pillow covered window seat that looks like an adult could sleep on. The music is coming from a radio/turntable console that has to be from the 40’s or 50’s.

It's all exactly you, and he can’t believe this is the first time he is seeing it. Part of the reason things weren’t working probably; the plan was to save on travel by “meeting in the middle” when you could get together. Then the rest was letters and phone calls, but that at 38¢ a minute... they were not long. He needed to see your life, and you needed to see his. But he didn’t want to show you that. Sure, he gave you the broad strokes, not really wanting to get into details. Another reason… what’s that, strike two? He can't mess up the next pitch.

“You look like you see a ball and chain in the corner,” you murmur, trying to disguise anxiety with sass.

“Nope, just realizing I should have come here months ago, babydoll.”

You smile, relief in your eyes.

“This is Benji,” you say pulling your son to a side hug. Murphy starts smelling Javier, closely. “And 'nosy Joe' here is Murphy.”

“Hi Benji. Your mom’s told me a lot about you, I’m Javi.” Javier pulls back his hips protectively and gives the Labrador a hand to smell. Chuckling, he murmers, “Murphy, huh?”

“Ben,” you say, with a nod at Murphy.

“Yeah sorry, come on Murph get out of there,” your son pulls Murphy away, “Sorry.”

After grilled cheese with soup and chatting with Benji about school (it’s okay) and baseball (I can’t believe we came in third! My favorite is Boggs), Benji asks if Javi brought his gun. (Earning a stern Benjamin Oliver! from you and a wink and a nod from Javi), and you encourage Benji to show Javier the farm while you clean up.

"Sure!" The boy bounds through the house, "come on!"

Javier kisses your forehead and follows.

"You work on a ranch?"

"Mmhm, it's my father's, it's big"

"Ours is small, just a few goats, sheep, chickens... we have two horses. Mom told me you have a cattle farm"

"Yep, cows and horses to wrangle them."

"Knock, knock."

Javier is quite for a beat from the abrupt switch, then smiles-

"Who's there?"

"Impatient cow."

"Impatient cow wh-"

"MOOOOO" Benji cuts across, and Javier gives him a satisfying burst of surprised laughter. He ruffles the boy's head-

"That's a good one, Ben. I needed a good knock knock joke."

Javi brings his overnight bag upstairs. Your room is a soft coral. The bed is tall, with a whitewash spindle headboard and a crazy quilt spread, complete with a calico cat at the end of it, who looks at Javi nonplussed.

“There is a bathroom off of my room, right through the closet- yeah, old houses,” you shrug.

After putting his bag on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, Javi reels you in for a kiss.

“So did I hear Benji go outside?”

You laugh, kissing him.

“Yeah, he went over to the neighbors, I told him we needed to talk about some stuff.”

“Talking’s good. But mmm, I can think of other ways to-“

Javi's hand cradles the back of your neck as he comes in for another deeper kiss. You hum a little at the taste of his lips and his mustache's rasp. You bring your pelvis in to meet his, which is taken as a green light. With the smooth grace of someone practiced, Javi brings your shirt over your head with hardly a break in his feast on your mouth, jaw, and neck. You unbutton his shirt hastily, and not as smoothly – it's been a while, and you aren't nearly as skilled. But you are gifted a soft groaning, ‘fuck’ when you dip your head to his now bare chest, and let your teeth graze one of his nipples. Javier backs you toward the bed. When you're spread out, legs dangling off the edge, he unbuttons your jeans, peeling them off you like a present he is looking to savor, as you watch on your elbows. Your bra and underpants remain. You sit up and pull at his buckle. Javier watches you, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you work his buckle open and off, then unbuttoning his jeans. He remembers his shoes and toes them off quickly, not wanting to lose momentum. Looking at you mostly bare, soft curves, silver stretch marks from carrying Benji, just gorgeous. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, thinking about the first time you “met part way” when you weren’t in a dark cramped car, when he could see you properly for the first time in fifteen years-

“Bonita, babydoll, you’re so beautiful… the years I missed-“

“We’ve got plenty of time, Javi, plenty.”

“I wish-“

“Me too. But we are here now.”

“We’re here now.”

You tug his pants down and pull him onto you, bringing him back to the present.

Javier tucks his narrow hips between your thighs, his elbows holding his torso over you, he searches your face-

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither,” your hand goes into his hair, giving a soft tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, Javier gives a growl and kisses you hard on the lips, its teeth and tongue, nips and licks. When you give an involuntary buck, his smirk is dangerous. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes track down your body, his eyebrows quirk like he’s deciding something. Suddenly he’s off you.

“Jav, what are y-" your confused query becomes a gasp.

Javier puts his mouth on your clothed mound.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Javier’s nose nudges at your clit, making your legs quiver, then he takes the elastic of your undies in his teeth and he draws them down slowly, his fingers looping the sides to help them along.

Your chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, as you look at the ceiling. His breath fanning over your center tells you right where he is, and then the flat of his tongue draws a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Nectar of the gods, babydoll,” Javier moans and makes a meal of you.

Your head is heavy on his chest as you doze, which is no longer tight, and your quiet snores are like music, a comforting song. The afternoon sunshine streams in the open window. He watches the curtains flutter and dust motes dance in the disturbed air, as he hears birds, he doesn’t know. He is in uncharted territory and he has no plans to fuck it up. You are his compass, and years of what not to do is his map.

Before falling to sleep, he showed you his skeletons, you know what he’s done.

You will talk more. About about him, and his work. About what life might look like up here for him, like a warning. You'll stumble over the term 'stepdad', not wanting to presume… but you need to know for Benji, if he really wants this. And he does want it-

All of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#javier peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #taking chances

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topguncortez · 2 years

Note

I put this in submit on accident but what if when out in public Mrs.Seresin is breastfeeding baby girl and someone does something to make the mrs uncomfortable or insecure and Jake and daggers defend her! Opposites attract world would be awesome! Thank you ❤️

it's all good! Just a reminder to all, my ask box is called "Attention to the talk" (it's a term we use in my unit when they want us to pay attention) Also, tweaking this just a tad so it's when Mrs. Seresin has Eli:)

|| Masterlist || Opposites Attract Masterlist ||

It wasn't every day that Jake got to bring his kids to the hangar, but when he did get the chance, he was all smiles about it. Some members of the dagger squad had just come back from a small mission overseas. Jake had opted to sit this one out, seeing as Eli was only a couple months old. Y/N appreciated having Jake home, but was starting to grow a tad annoyed with him. Jake was kinda lost without Rooster, Bob, Phoenix and Coyote at his disposal.

Jake showed Alex and Ella around the hangar, showing them different parts of the planes, and showing them the maps. Alex was more interested in all of it than Ella was, which wasn't surprising. Y/N and Jake had talked before about how much Alex took after Jake in his interest in flying. It slightly terrified him that one day Alex could grow up to join the military, but also made him proud.

"You look happy," Rooster said, putting his arm around Y/N's shoulders.

"I am, currently child free right now," Y/N smiled and held her arms out, looking as she had no kids attached to them. Bob was holding Eli, and seemed to be catching him up as well, "I'm glad you guys are back. He made me watch Texas football."

"Oh no, you poor thing," Coyote joked and she rolled her eyes.

"Hey! How about we go to the beach. . . a little dog fight football?" Maverick suggested, holding up a football in his hands.

"Beach, Papa Mav!" Ella yelled and ran towards her 'papa'.

"Sounds like that's a yes, huh, Elles?" Maverick said, and picked up the three year old in his arms.

"You okay with that?" Jake asked, putting his arm around his wife, "I could use some sun, looking a pit bale."

"Oh jeez, anymore vitamin D and it all goes to your head," Y/N joked.

"Gotta soak past those hair products first," Bob quipped.

Jake and Y/N met the team down at the beach after they stopped by home to get the kids ready. Since the addition of Eli, it got a bit more challenging to get three Seresin kids ready to go anywhere, but they managed. Alex was six and could kind of get his own stuff together with supervision, and Ella was starting to do the same. Jake could handle the two older kids while Y/N focused on getting the baby ready.

Penny was sitting under an umbrella on the beach, and called Y/N over to sit next to her. She smiled at the older woman, as Alex and Ella engulfed her in a hug.

"Oh hi, babies," Penny smiled, "Amelia! Kids are here!"

"Millie!" Ella yelled as the teen walked out from the Hard Deck, "Momma can we go to the water?"

"Stay with Amelia and Alex, okay?" Y/N said, and Ella nodded with a smile. Y/N greeted Amelia, and then sent the three of them on their way.

"Look at him," Penny cooed, seeing the baby strapped to her chest, "Snug like a bug."

"You should see Jake wearing this thing," Y/N giggled, "He wasn't a fan of it with Alex, I think partially because he was just so little, but he fell in love with it and the wrap around one when we had Ella."

Y/N carefully sat down on the blanket next to Penny, then unstrapped the baby on her chest. Eli let out a soft cry at the loss of warmth from his mother, but was content once he was laid on his back and given a toy. Penny smiled at the two of them, before going back to watch the aviators play.

"What's the point of this?" Y/N said, looking up from her son, "Offense and defense at the same time?"

"No clue," Penny said, "Pete made it up when they came back for the uranium mission. I think they just use it as a chance to take their shirts off."

"I'm not complaining," Y/N giggled and Penny shot her a smirk.

"Hey, you just had that one," Penny laughed.

"Baby department is closed," Y/N said, "Three is enough for us. Ain't that right, Eli." She gently tickled her son's belly, getting a laugh from him.

Penny, Y/N and the kids stayed on the beach for awhile, until the older two were begging for a snack and something to drink. They sat on the deck of the Hard Deck still watching the aviators play and tackle each other in the sand.

Penny had gotten Alex and Ella chicken strips and fries. They both sat at the table outside with Y/N, watching their dad and uncles play. Eli had started to grow fussy, and Y/N knew that it was getting close to feeding time for him. She noticed some eyes drift over to her as Eli let out a loud cry.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Y/N said, listening to his cry, “You’re hungry aren’t you. I got you, baby boy,” Y/N grabbed a blanket from the diaper bag to cover herself. She tried her best to hush Eli while she got herself situated, pulling down the strap of her swim suit, “Shh, Eli, it’s okay.” It was hard to get Eli positioned right to latch with him moving around, but once she did, his cries ceased. She made sure the blanket was covering everything, as she sat back in her chair a bit.

"Do you really have to do that?" A man in a khaki uniform asked her. He had to be fresh out of flight school. He only had a silver bar on his uniform and a singular rack of ribbons.

“What?” Y/N asked softly, looking up at him.

“That.” He said nodding to her feeding Eli, “It’s weird. They have bathrooms ya know."

“Oh,” Y/N heart fell into her stomach, and she suddenly felt very exposed, even though her chest and feeding son were covered, “I’m sorry, I can leave. Um, Alex, Ella, I'll be right-” Y/N started to gather her diaper bag and push off the couch when Jake and the dagger squad walked up on the deck.

“What did you say to her?” Jake asked the young aviator who was still looking over at Y/N.

“It’s okay, Jake,” Y/N said, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, what did you say?” Rooster asked.

“I just asked her to go somewhere else,” The aviator, “Not everyone wants to see that.”

“That?” Jake, raised his eyebrows and clenched his jaw, “That is completely natural for a woman to do for her child. It’s her body and she is doing what it is designed to do. Nobody else was bothered by it but you, so why the fuck are you trying to sexualize somethig so natural and innocent?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Then you’ll be okay if the mother of my son feeds him where she feels comfortable,” Jake said, and walked over to the empty seat next to her. He put his arm around Y/N, trying to make her feel more comfortable. Y/N settled into him, and he placed a kiss on her temple.

"You can leave now," Bob said, and the aviator got up from his spot quickly.

"Wait," Phoenix said, and the aviator stopped in his spot, "What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Correll, Stallion," He said.

"Thought so," Phoenix smirked, "Well, Stallion, you'll report to the hangar at zero five Monday morning. . . bring a toothbrush."

"Multiple, actually," Payback said, "My plane is a little dirty from the last mission."

"Bring a friend too," Coyote said. Lieutenant Correll gulped audibly, "Okay, now fucking leave." He scurried away from them quickly, running into Maverick as he walked down the steps of the deck.

“What did you do?” Maverick asked, walking over to the table full of his aviators.

“Nothing, he can just go fuck off,” Jake mumbled.

“Jake,” Y/N sighed, “If you guys are uncomfortable with me breastfeeding Eli-”

“None of us are uncomfortable by it, Y/N,” Rooster said, “It’s like a mom thing to do, ya know.”

The team agreed and sat down in various chairs around the Seresin family. Y/N smiled at them and then looked down, seeing Eli slowly falling asleep against her chest. When she was done feeding, Phoenix helped her cover herself up, as Jake was burping Eli. Y/N let the daggers take the kids back to the water.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Y/N said, as she finished pumping.

“Yes I did,” Jake answered, “I’m not going to let anyone make you feel uncomfortable for doing something totally natural. There are so many benefits with breastfeeding, there’s the vitamins, the skin to skin contact, the bonding, the-”

“Okay, I know,” Y/N said, cutting him off with a smile, “This isn't my first go around with this. But thank you, daddy.” She smirked and Jake rolled his eyes, pulling her in for a kiss.

“It’s my job, mommy.”

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