floralfloyd

[floralfloyd]

...And Then I Met Him | Chapter 1 - A New Reality

Jake Seresin x OC

Summary: It's the night before your first unofficial deployment and there are a few familiar faces in the crowd

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of heart attacks, inaccurate military things, idk

Word Count: 6.1k - I can promise that this probably won't happen again. I just couldn't stop writing

A/N: A long one, but like I said, I couldn't stop writing. We get to meet a few new characters in this one, including our leading man himself. There's also a little bit more backstory. I tried to proof it as much as I could but I probably missed a few things. Anyways... HAPPY READING!

Series Masterlist

“Good morning, kiddo,” your uncle announced, not even bothering to look up, as you walked down the stairs, still in your pajamas. 

He was sitting at the counter, breakfast with an additional thousands of papers sitting in front of him, including personnel folders and more. As you got closer, you realized his food was untouched and his hand was placed over his forehead as he disregarded all of the open documents but one. You looked over his shoulder, glancing at the photo and the name, presumably one of the pilots that your uncle told you that you’d be working with in the next few weeks. 

“Which pilot is that?” you asked, wanting to know their name. Between the twelve recruits and other personnel that were going to be on base, you didn’t know if you were going to keep up with everyone’s names. Maverick didn’t move. 

“Uncle Mav,” you said, a little bit louder, trying to catch his attention that seemed to be focused on this singular pilot. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking up at you finally. 

“I asked who that was,” you offered again. 

“Bradley Bradshaw. Callsign: Rooster. I used to fly with his father.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” you scoffed as you grabbed a cup of yogurt you had purchased the day before from the fridge.. 

He smirked, desperately trying to put a face on, but you could tell it was bothering him. Deciding against pushing it, you poured a small bit of oats into the yogurt before settling into the stool next to him by the counter. 

“So, tell me again. What exactly is my job?”

Maverick closed the file, setting it down on the counter and finally acknowledging his soggy oatmeal sitting in front of him. He took a small bite before answering you. 

“You are what we’re going to call a Naval Liaison. Because you’ve never gone through military training, let alone flight school, you’ll basically be a consultant. You read that file I gave you a couple nights, right?” You nodded your head, recalling the few files similar to the ones on the counter that you read over entailing all of the details of the mission, the jets, minus a few things blacked out that were way above your paygrade, but hell, all of this really was. “These pilots need constant monitoring. I need to know who they are, pilots and otherwise, if I’m going to trust them to fly on this mission. Hondo will take most of the military aspect of things, but I want you to get inside their minds, find out what makes them tick, if they’re loyal to their team. And you’ll report back to me, back to the Admirals on base about their progress.”

“So, I’m like your inside man?” you questioned, letting out a small laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like my inside man.” He looked back down at his food. “Look, I know it isn’t much. Hell, I don’t even know how I got Ice to agree to this.” Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. You’d learned that he was a lifelong friend of your uncle, one he had flown with when he went to Top Gun some thirty years ago. Mav said that he and Tom owed a lot to one another, hence the reason that he was still in the Navy. 

“It’s okay, Uncle Mav, really. I’m thankful to even be here. It was sudden, I’ll give you that, but I’m really glad I’m here. At whatever job I manage to have. And I’m not going to complain. It pays well,” you joked, taking a bite of your yogurt. 

“I’m glad you’re here too, kiddo,” he said, ruffling his hands through your hair as he stood up to bring his bowl to the sink. He hadn’t bothered to finish the food, but at this rate, he didn’t seem hungry. “How’s your mom been doing?” You heard the water begin to run in the sink, rinsing out the dish. 

“She’s been…good. Honestly, no different from home, so that’s a good thing. Listen,” you started, “I’m not exactly sure how this whole caregiver thing is gonna go. Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to go back and forth from the base everyday?”

The water shut off as he turned back to you. “I know you’re worried about her. I am too, but I need you there. Hondo’s a good sidekick, but he doesn’t exactly fit in with the group. You’re about their age, you’ll get along with the pilots just fine.” He took a deep breath, giving you the chance to disagree with him if you decided to come home every night. It would make his job a little bit harder, but he wanted to make sure you were happy. But you didn't. You just sat straight, eating your breakfast. “What time does the nurse get here?”

“6 o’clock. Will you be home by then?” you asked, not wanting to be alone during the whole thing. You didn’t know how to explain to a total stranger that your mother wasn't really sick, at least you didn't think she was. She just couldn't make meals, bathe, live without someone's assistance. Okay, maybe she was sicker than you'd admit to yourself, but you were nervous about the thought of someone else taking care of her. They didn't know her. They didn't know what music she likes to listen to and what she didn't while you washed her hair. They didn't know how she likes to have her tomatoes sliced when you made her a sandwich. Weariness rolled through you at the thought of your mother not being properly cared for. 

“I should be home no later than 5. I just have to go over some mission details with Hondo this morning and prep our rooms on base.”

“Okay,” you sighed deeply.

“How about we go out tonight, do something?” he asked. “If things go well with the caretaker, we can give her a little trial run.”

“Mav-”

He cut you off. “You need to loosen up a little, kiddo. You've been taking care of your mom for a long time. Now it's time to take care of you.”

You thought to yourself for a few moments. He was right. When was the last time you had a night out, unless it was working at the diner back in Georgia? For you, it wasn't hard to leave home. You didn't have other family or friends to miss. Other than to your mom and your uncle, you weren't of any importance. 

“I'll think about it,” you replied firmly. 

“That's all I can ask for, Vayda.” Grabbing his aviators and the keys to his bike, he rounded the counter back towards you. You felt his hand drop on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Have a good day and you can look over these files if you want to.” He gestured to the manila folders on the counter. “I'll see you in the evening.”

Before you knew it, he was out of the house, leaving dead silence other than your spoon clicking against the glass bowl. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were presentable enough in your baby pink tank and jean shorts, paired with a light gray sweater. you wanted to make a good impression on this person. After all, they were going to be taking care of your mother. You had prepped her an hour prior, allowing her to rest in her bed until it was time to meet the nurse. 

The sound of the front door opening startled you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Before you could question who was, a familiar voice rang out from down the stairs. 

“I'm late, I'm late I know. Are they here yet?” he asked. 

“No!” you shouted back down, grabbing your phone out of your pocket to check the time. “They will be soon though.”

You stood up from the chair in front of the vanity, choosing to leave your hair in its braid. You weren't entirely sure what Uncle Mav had chosen for your little outing tonight, but you figured you didn't need to be super put together. Besides, if you were outside for it, you could just forfeit the sweater. As you made your way out of your room and down the stairs, you heard a small knock on the door. 

“I'll be right out!” Maverick shouted from the bathroom down the hall as you made your way to the front door. 

Opening it slowly, behind the door revealed a middle-aged woman, looking similarly in age to your mother. She had her dark hair tied back in a low bun, blue scrubs covering her form. 

“Hi,” you began, tone sweet. “Come on in.” You stepped aside, allowing her to move past you into the house. “My uncle will be out in a sec,” you stated, closing the door behind her.

“I'm assuming it's your mother I'm taking care of?” the nurse voiced. 

“Yes,” you responded, gesturing her down the hall and towards the small couch in the open living area. “I'm Vayda. I'm the Captain's niece.” You held out of hand for her to shake.

Gently taking it, she introduced herself. “I'm Lorelei Stevens. I'm part of the FFSP, Fleet and Family Support Program in the San Diego and North Island area. I've taken care of Admiral Kazansky's health concerns in the past. I was told by him someone else was looking in the area. A family friend.”

“Iceman sent you?” Your uncle made his presence known, walking up behind the two of you talking in the living room. At the sound of his voice, she turned around, standing up.

“Pete?” she asked. “What has it been? A year?”

“Lori?” He let out a light laugh, opening his arms for a hug. “How are you?”

“I'm doing well. I didn't know you had a niece,” she poked fun. 

“I didn't either,” he joked, “until about a year ago. My sister, she got sick and this one needed a little bit of help.” He pointed to you. 

You watch the interaction with a little bit of awe. You knew your uncle was a renowned pilot, well known in the Navy, yet it always surprised you how many people he knew and how many of them knew him. 

Lori turned back toward you. “Would you want to take me to meet her?”

You looked to your uncle, trying to see in his eyes if he trusted her. All you saw was complete admiration and respect for Nurse Stevens. She mentioned taking care of Iceman, that was probably part of it. You didn't know if the Admiral was sick, but if she had taken care of one of your uncle's oldest friends, then you could trust her to take care of your mother. The tension in your shoulders relaxed as you stood. 

“Sure.” 

You gestured towards the staircase, encouraging Maverick and Stevens to follow you. “Is there anything you'd like me to know about her? Before I meet her?”

There was a slight pause before you answered her, unsure of exactly how to put it. “She got sick after my father and brother died. Not sick, just closed off. She still hasn't said more than a few words since then. It was hard for her to even let me in. She just hasn't been the same.”

“I saw in her personnel file that she had a heart attack?”

“Yeah,” you began. “It's been a couple years, but I was told to continue watching out for symptoms in case it happened again.” 

When you got to the closed door that was your mother's room, your hand hesitated on the handle. This was it. Once Nurse Stevens met your mom, there was no going back. Turning the cold metal and pushing in, the three of you were met with the sight of your sleeping mother. She was curled up into herself, the comforter tucked under her chin. you approached her sleeping form, gently ripping your hand up and down the side of her arm below the blanket.

“Mama, I've got someone here to meet you.” As you sat next to her on her side of the bed, you watched her eyes slowly flutter open and her form turn to smile at you hollowly as consciousness reached her. You helped her sit up, lean her head against the headboard of her bed. “You remember how I told you I have to start working away from home?” She didn't nod but the look in her eye told you she understood. “There's a nurse who’s going to stay home and take care of you while me and Uncle Mav are gone.” 

The usual dim look in her eye grew even darker. They flitted around the room, trying to find the source of your words. At the same time, you could feel Nurse Stevens walking up behind you. 

“Maria? My name is Lori. I'm a friend of your brother.” Your mother didn't respond. “I hear you just moved to San Diego. Have you been able to see the beach yet?” More silence. 

Lori turned to look at you, who was already meeting her halfway, a look of ‘I told you so’ on your face. You turned back around to face your mother, grabbing her hand. You felt her squeeze it gently in return. “Mama, I don't want to leave you either, but I have to and she's going to take really good care of you. I…I just want you to be okay.” You tried to gauge what she was feeling by the look on her face, but it was near unreadable. 

“Vay, Lori. How ‘bout we give her some space? She looks a little tired,” your uncle, who had been watching the whole thing from the doorway, reasoned. He could see you were struggling to get your mom to react, anything. He didn't want you to feel any more concerned than you already were. 

Nurse Stevens moved away almost immediately, making her way out the door. You stayed for a moment, lifting your mother's hand to your face, pressing a small kiss on her knuckles before assisting her back under the covers. The small smile that was on her face when you greeted her had long disappeared, being replaced with furrowed brows and straight face. The smile being gone was the only thing you needed to know to understand that she was upset. You knew you were out of time, your first day on base at Top Gun tomorrow, so you wanted her to understand. Needed her to understand, to know that you still loved her even though you couldn't take care of her anymore. At least for the month that you were going to be away for, a weekend every once and a while to visit. 

Once you stood off the edge of the bed, finally turning away from your mother again, you were met with Maverick, a look of sympathy written on his features. As soon as the door was closed behind the both of you, he spoke up. 

“Come on, kid. You need to get out of the house. Your mom will be okay with Lori for a few hours. I trust her, I hope you trust her. It'll be just like a testrun for this week.”

You supposed he was right, but hesitation lived in your veins, making it near impossible to leave her. Your uncle knew how dedicated to her you were, but he also knew that you’d have to get used to being away from her starting tomorrow. Going out for a drink tonight wouldn’t hurt. 

“Any popular bars around here?”

“You really wanna go grab a drink with your uncle? I’m honored,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your lips quirked up for a moment.

“I might need one last drink if I’m going to be with cocky naval aviators like yourself starting tomorrow.”

“Then you might not like where we’re going. And hey, you’re supposed to be on my side, kiddo.” He mockingly punched the side of your arm, making your smile grow wider. It was then you noticed the absence of Lori. 

“Where’s-”

“Downstairs, waiting for you. She figured you’d need a moment.” He paused. “Do you need a moment?”

You shook your head, eagerly trying to convince yourself that you were okay for your own sake. The two of you walked side by side down the staircase. Lori was walking around, looking at the pictures that you had spent yesterday afternoon setting up. It made this military-grade box feel a little more like home. 

“This your father?” she asked, holding up a picture of you and him at your third grade dance recital. It was one of the only pictures of the both of you that he liked. He complained that he was never photo genetic enough to share the spotlight with you, but there was something about that one. 

“Yeah,” you muttered softly. 

“You look a lot like him,” she said softly, hoping not to hurt you at the mention of him. After seeing your mother and how she’s been since their death, you supposed maybe she thought you could shut down at any moment too. 

“Thanks.” Was that the proper thing to say to that? You were about to speak up to ask if she was willing to stay a little longer before Mav beat you to it. 

“Lori, I wanted to take the kid out for one last hurrah before tomorrow. Would you mind staying here? I know that you probably have-”

“Say no more. Let her enjoy her last night of freedom,” Lori responded. “Besides, this is my job now. I mean,” she moved her gaze to you, “I hope that’s the case,” she said, flicking the last phrase up at the end like a question.

You gave her a soft smile. “If he trusts you, then I do too.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Maverick said, cutting in front of you and heading towards the front door. 

“She’ll probably stay asleep for the most part. If she does come down, she likes watching reruns of FRIENDS with a bowl of strawberries. She and my dad used to spend date nights like that when they couldn’t find a sitter,” you rambled, recalling those late Thursday nights that you and Alex would sneak downstairs and hide behind the couch, looking over your parents’ shoulders at the TV. 

“Vay, this is my job,” she reminded you, smiling. “I’ve got this, I promise. And here,” she started, reaching into the front pocket of her scrubs and pulling out a card. “This is my number. Text me so I have yours and I’ll let you know how she’s doing.” You grabbed the small piece of paper from her hands, sticking it in your back pocket along with your phone. “Now, go have fun.” She gestured toward the direction Maverick had disappeared a few moments ago. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, hurrying off down the hall to slip your shoes on. You found him waiting for you at the front door, the keys to your Jeep in hand. You could feel your heart beat hard in your chest the closer you were getting to leave, but you remembered what he said. How would you ever know if your mom could handle it if you never gave her the chance? If you never gave yourself the chance? Plus, you’d already gotten yourself done to go out tonight.

He could see you were struggling before he decided to set your keys back down in the bowl next to the door and pick up another set. “I’ll take my bike. You come when you’re ready and that way you can leave when you want. It’s just a few miles down the road. Left. The Hard Deck.” You didn’t move, but he did, swinging an arm around your shoulder and giving you a side hug. “I love you, kiddo. It’ll be okay.”

He let go of you, allowing you to lean on the wall, before moving to open the front door and walk out. You continued to stay in your spot, even after you heard his bike engine rev and ride off. You sighed, cursing yourself for giving into him before you were even out the door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself off of the wall, going to open the front door. You turned the handle, stepping out into the cool, California night air. You could get used to this. Your Jeep was parked just out front on the curb of the street. Your uncle didn’t have much time to scrounge up a place to stay, for you and your mom at least, so the three of you were in a military appointed rental just on the beach. For a rental, it was really nice, plenty of space for each of you for when you’d all be there. The only downside was that there was no driveway or garage. 

Maverick had already taken the liberty of taking your sunroof and doors off, allowing the car to be fit for the hot, summer days. You used to drive it that way in Georgia, only during the summer, but now, you figured you could do it almost year round. The only kicker would be the tropical storms. But right now, feeling the wind in your hair, you felt free. It felt like old times. When you used to hangout with your brother when he’d come home from college. When you used to grab late night breakfasts with your dad in high school. 

The Hard Deck, what your uncle said it was called, was just a ten minute ride away from the rental. You honestly could have walked, but you were new. Walking down a California beach was different than walking in a cozy, everybody-knows-everybody suburban area. The music inside could be heard from the small parking lot, already packed with cars. It was barely seven and this place seemed full. You managed to find a place to park near the front before shutting the car off and letting your head fall back on the headrest. 

Take a few deep breaths. You got this. You’ve already left home. What’s the worst that could happen?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket along with the small card. You wanted Nurse Stevens’ number in your phone before you got into the bar, distracted by whatever the night would bring. You typed the number on the card into your contacts before texting the number a quick ‘it’s Vayda’ before closing it out. Hurriedly, you grabbed the keys out of the ignition and slipped them into your back pocket along with your phone. You debated taking your sweater off, assuming that the crowded building would be hot, but the cool night air you hoped to escape back to soon enough had you deciding against it. 

Taking the steps up to the front door, you were welcomed with swinging doors, almost identical to ones at old saloons. The moment you walked in, you were hit with the strong scent of beer and sweat. It wasn’t as full as you had anticipated, but there were still plenty of people in there for you to get lost in the crowd. It took you a moment to find your uncle, but when you did, he was sitting at the bar, talking to a lady, the bartender you assumed. You approached him from behind the moment the lady stepped back, ringing the bell. A loud cheer rang through the crowd as you approached the bar. 

“What am I missing?” he asked. The bartender stepped out of the way, revealing a sign hanging between to makeshift posts, a smirk on her face. “‘Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cell phone on my bar…’” he stopped, lifting his cellphone in the air. 

“And you buy a round,” she finished, grabbing it from him and setting it down in front of her, by no means out of reach to Maverick, but close enough to her that if he tried to grab it she could snatch it away.

“For everyone?” he asked. 

“I’m afraid rules are rules. You’re lucky it’s early,” she said before turning to you as you sat down on the seat right of your uncle.  “Can I get you anything? It’s on him.” She tilted her head towards Maverick. 

“It’d be on him anyway,” you admitted. “But yeah, I’ll take a…rum and coke…if you’ve got anything but beer.”

She tilted her head the opposite way, trying to get a good look at you. When something registered in her head, she turned to your uncle. “Don’t tell me you got a kid, Pete. And you never told me?”

‘“I-I-” he stuttered. 

“I’m actually his niece, Vayda.”

She was still looking at him, tongue poking the side of her cheek in…annoyance? Humor? “I didn’t know he even had a…what? Sister? Brother?”

“Sister. She and I just moved here with him this week.”

The bartender, whom apparently your uncle knew, turned around, making your drink quickly and with ease. It was seconds before it was placed in front of you. Before you could thank her, someone came up to the other side of the bar. 

“Penny, my dear,” he beckoned.

“Yeah,” she responded, looking away from you.

“I’ll have four more on the old timer,” he joked, leaning his arm on the bar. He looked at your uncle, then shifted his gaze over to you. Your uncle had warned you, well sort of, prior to coming that this was a naval hotspot, full of cocky young Top Gun students and those stationed at the base of the coast of San Diego. The man was good looking, you’d give him that. The tan uniform he dawned suited him well, but you knew better than to give into any antics or desperation on your side. Penny, as the stranger had called her, walked away to retrieve his beers as well as helping a few other people along the way. You could feel his gaze on you, but chose to ignore it, turning to your uncle.

“Thanks for making me come,” you told him. 

He moved his head to look at you instead of the spot on the counter he had been focusing on since you showed up and interrupted his conversation with the barhand. “You're welcome, kiddo.” His hand rested on your shoulder, squeezing it tightly. 

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” you heard someone shout from across the room. 

Something seemed to change in your uncle in that split second. One moment, he was smiling with you and the bartender, and the next, he was cold, face down, almost buried in his drink. You turned to see what he was looking away from. It clicked the moment you saw the man, tropical shirt and mustache, the picture of the guy in your uncle’s files this morning, the one he couldn’t seem to put down. Rooster, his callsign. He was walking towards a group of aviators in similar uniform to the guy hanging at the bar. They sat around the pool table, talking to each other as if they were family. 

“Here you go,” Penny said, interrupting your thoughts. She set four bottles down in front of him and he scooped three of them up in one hand, the remaining one in the other.

“Thank you,” he said to Penny before looking over her shoulder toward Mav. “Much appreciated, Pops.” Backing away from the bar, he took one last look at you, sending a wink your way, smiling. Then he turned around and was gone in the crowd of people. 

You rolled your eyes at the notion. “Are they all that way?” you asked Penny. 

“Just about. After a while, you learn your lesson,” she said, eyes flitting over to your uncle. 

You laughed, taking a small sip of your drink before setting it back down on the napkin. “Do you happen to have a bathroom?” you asked her, getting up from your spot, leaving your almost full rum and coke on the counter. 

“Yeah, just down that short hall,” she pointed behind you. “Door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you said, tapping the bar. 

There wasn’t a line, thankfully, so you didn’t have to wait. You didn’t have to go, but you just needed a moment to step away. You’d been here for barely ten minutes and you were already panicking about your mother about what your life was going to be like tomorrow. Mav was right in the notion that you needed tonight. If you didn’t need to be at least somewhat sober for tomorrow, you would get shitfaced, but you couldn’t. You’d have to endure every minute worrying and panicking near sober. When you stood by the sink, washing your hands, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. The reality was you were going to be surrounded by pilots in these next few weeks without your mother in a strange environment. Cupping your hands under the running water, you splashed the cold liquid on your face a few times in an attempt to cool yourself down. A few strands of your hair were sangling down, getting soaked by the water, so you opted to take your hair out. You dried your hands, throwing the paper towels in the garbage, before grabbing the rubberband at the end of the braid. It had been like that since late morning, so now the blonde strands were coming out with a nice wave. You ran your hands through it a few times, making sure it was somewhat presentable before opening the door, face downcast. If you hadn’t been looking at your feet, you might not have run into someone as you walked out. 

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I’m not watching where I’m going, I-”

“It’s alright,” she laughed. 

Stepping out of her way, clearing your head, you realized she was wearing one of those tan jumpsuits. 

“You new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you at the Deck before.”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered. “I just moved here with my mom and uncle. He’s in the Navy and had to come down here for a few weeks. I’m Vayda,” you said bashfully, holding a hand out for her.

“Nat,” she flustered for a moment. “Uh, Natasha.” She grabbed your hand, shaking it firmly. “Hope to see you around,” she said finally, making her way into the bathroom.

You smiled as you walked up to the bar. Your uncle was standing at his spot, combing through his wallet. “Are we leaving already?”

“We don’t have to,” he said. “Just paying my bill.”

“It’s been declined,” Penny said, setting his card down next to him. 

“You’re kidding,” he exasperated. 

“I’m gonna go sit outside, maybe on the beach or something,” you told him. “Just text me when you leave.”

You patted his arm, bidding him good luck as he continued to search through his wallet. Rounding the bar, you moved past the group of naval aviators by the pool table and out the back door. The rear of the Hard Deck was laid out nicely, a patio with tables and umbrellas for when the sun was out. There was a fence on the edge of it, rope in between the posts, mimicking a ship. This place was nice. However popular, you wanted to come back. It may be busy, but it was small, cozy, felt homely. Walking towards the rope fence posts, you heard a bell ring inside, just like the one you heard when you walked in. The crowd inside began chanting again and when you turned to try and peer through the window, much to your enjoyment, you watched as your uncle was halled out in three aviator's arms towards the side door that you had walked in through. It wasn’t the front which opened to the parking lot, but not out back where you were, completely uninterrupted, only the waves of the beach. An anticipated buzz in your pocket told you to take out your phone, seeing two texts, one from your uncle and the other from Lori. Opening the one from Mav first, you smiled.

Guess I’m leaving now :) Don’t come home too late. 

You sent him back a quick okay before opening the other.

She woke up almost immediately after you left. I did what you said and she’s content. I can tell she misses you, though.

Thank you, you text back. My uncle’s on his way back home. Sorry the practice run was short lived.

Putting your phone back in your pocket, you redirected your attention to the waves. Someone had begun to play a piano showtune inside, the crowd singing along to the hit Great Balls of Fire. You were glad you weren’t inside as you went back to staring out at the beach. Out here, you were at peace. You had only been on a beach a couple of times. Once for a relative’s wedding where you didn’t even get to swim, just watch the ceremony, and once on a vacation, though the beach was more like a shoreline along a local lake. No, nothing could compare to this view, the open ocean, boats out sailing in the night, their lights illuminating the water around them. 

“Enjoyin’ the view, darlin’?”

You turned to see the man from the bar walking out towards you. When you walked out the back door, you caught him at the pool table with the other pilots. You didn’t notice he noticed you walking out back, but you weren’t looking forward to this. 

“You know, it’s not nice to stalk young ladies. It makes ‘em think your a creep.”

“Observing and stalking are two very different things,” he replied, walking up next to you, but not leaning on the post like you were. “I’m Hangman,” he noted, trying to worm his way into your eyesight. 

You gave him the attention, looking at him, hoping he was joking at the crude nickname. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t joke about something like that, darlin’.” You rolled your eyes yet again at him tonight. “Indulge me in something. Tell me that man you were sitting at the bar with tonight wasn’t your date. You can do much better than that. I just had to kick him out of the bar.”

“Relax, blondie. That was my uncle. Don’t think the bartender was too happy to see him again,” you laughed, moving your body so you were face to face with Hangman.

“That’s a relief. Does that mean I can buy you a drink? Maybe take you out?”

No, it didn’t. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you replied, walking closer to him, laying your hand on his chest. You had no idea where this surge in confidence was coming from. 

He seemed surprised, pleasantly surprised at your contact, but relaxed into your touch, laying one of his own hands on your hip. “Oh, I’d like that very much,” he spoke lowly, his southern drawl dripping with lust. 

“Well,” you started, dipping your hand lower towards his waistline, getting up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Good…thing…you’re…so,” your hand walking lower with each word, voice getting quieter, “...gullible.” You slapped his crotch, walking away from him, heading towards the door you came out to head back to the parking lot. You could hear his groans and a few ‘oohs’ from his friends that were watching the scene unfold from the window. You opened the swinging door, one foot inside before looking out again towards him. “See you around…Hangman.”You walked through the bar, past the eyes of his friends, smiling slightly as you passed Penny waving you goodbye. Once you were out in your car, you started it, leaning your head back against your seat. You didn’t know what came over you at that moment. You weren’t a flirty person, weren’t a tease. Hell, you’d barely even had a relationship and yet it was so easy to make Hangman fall into your hand. Whatever it was, it made your stomach turn, made your cheeks heat up at the thought. You liked it. And you knew, given the chance, you’d do it again.

[floralfloyd]

Someone Like You - J.Seresin

Summary: Being best friends with a naval aviator was hard, being best friends and in love with the Jake "Hangman" Seresin was even harder.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, there is a small bit of angst, jake kind of bein douche, best friends to lovers troupe because top tier, oblivous by both parties.(if i missed any lemme know)

The request: If you're open to requests, I have one for you! It could be about Tyler, Jake, or Glen—whichever you prefer. The story would revolve around them being very close friends, but he’s always surrounded by girls. The reader begins to pull away, feeling inadequate or thinking she's not pretty enough, believing he could never see her as more than just a friend. I’d love for it to have a sweet, fluffy ending!

authors note: to the anon who requested this, thank you! I hope i have done justice to what you envisioned! - I really love getting requests because ya'll got some great ideas! If you have requested something, I promise i will get to it!! love, em. <333

The sun was sat snugly high in the blue sky. Sitting under the rays, you watched the group of aviators run through the sand covered in sweat. Sitting perched on the towel and sunglasses on your nose.

You never expected this to be your life after moving from your hometown to be a field medic with a group of aviators.

“You done sunbathing?” you look up behind the aviators to the man above you, blocking the sun from your eyes.

Jake Seresin in all his glory, hands on his hips.

“Can I help you?” pulling the sunglasses down your nose, you look at him over the rims with a raised brow. He chuckles, pushing the hair that was sticking to his forehead back.

He has been on leave for the last two weeks, letting his hair grow out of regs. "Are you done crisping like a chicken and gonna come play a game?” He holds his hand to you, which you take happily and he pulls you from the sand with a grunt.

“I don’t know if I should” you push the bridge of the sunglasses back up your nose. “What?! You are playing c’mon” he encourages you over, jogging ahead of you in the sand.

You watch as the rest of the the dagger squad who has been nothing but kind to you, encourage you. Then there's the group of aviators who were glued to the squad, more so Jake than others.

They giggle between themselves. You never knew joining the Navy was gonna have the same effects of highschool.

“(y/n)!” Jake’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, a grin on his face. “C’mon! One game!?” he pouts, hands on his hips. You sigh and make your way down the sand, pulling the shorts on your body to cover your bikini bottoms.

The dagger squad was your adopted family. You met them all in your time on the ships as a field medic but as well as at base when Jake made his way into your office quite often to get ‘looked at’.

“Dude! I had no idea you were this good at this” Phoenix wraps her arm around your shoulders as you walk back to your things with a giggle. “I blame Hangman for hiding you from us” you smile, grabbing your towel and bag of items and standing back to your full height.

Turning to say something, your thoughts run short as the girls again circle around Jake, hands on his arms as they all giggle.

He did have the million dollar smile.

“You coming to the hard deck with us?” Bradley asks, standing beside phoenix. You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him as you shake your head. “I return back to work tomorrow unlike some people” you chuckle, nudging him gently.

He nods, hands held up in defense as you smile. “See you soon though?” he asks as you are walking up the sand, you grin. “Of course! Someones bound to get hurt” you wink, making your way back to your own vehicle.

“Sweetheart!” you sigh, the southern drawl was almost like a vice around your brain. Setting your items in the back of your Jeep, you turn to face him. “You aren’t coming?” he asks, stopping in front of you,panting to catch his breath. You shake your head, “I have to work tomorrow captain”. He smirks, pushing a hair out of your face gently.

“Not even for one drink?” he asks as you shake your head. “No but I will be up to pick you up if you need me” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he jogs over to his truck.

Ally, another pilot in Top gun standing at the passenger side was waiting for him. “See you later sweetheart!” he waves.

Sighing heavily you climb into your jeep, immediately turning the radio up loudly and driving away.

You knew you were not the only woman in Jake’s life. He was charming with his green eyes and winning smile but everytime you would do anything with him, the woman gravitated to him like he was the opposite end of their magnets.

Driving through the city, your heart hurt a bit. You knew how childish it seemed.

How childish it was to be upset that he had the female gaze, he was tall, tan and kind under his hundred layers of ego. As you made your way into your home, the phone in your hand vibrated.

Jake: Let’s get together this week for dinner? Drinks?

you smile sadly at the text. You knew he enjoyed your company. You replied.

you: Sure Jake, sounds good

The text bubble appeared but you chose for your own mental state it was best to mute the conversation for the time being.

3am on the dot your phone rang.

You knew who was on the other line. Reaching over, you grab the phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes. “(y/n)” you sigh at the sound of Bradleys voice.

“Hey roo” you mumble, eyes closed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I think you should come get Jake… maybe me too?” he questions as you chuckle softly. “Be there shortly” you hang up and climb out of bed.

Grabbing the closest sweatshirt to you and make your way outside and down to the hard deck. Dressed in your pajamas, you make your way inside the bar, still roaring with life even on a Sunday night.

Jake and Bradley sat at the bar with Penny who grins at your arrival. “Cute” she mumbles as you shake your head, making your way to them.

“Let’s go boys” you pat both of their shoulders, encouraging them out the door. “Is that my sweatshirt?” Jake questions as you look down at the hoodie on your body.

“Yes it is, let's go” you motion to the door. “Jakey!” Ally gasps, running to Jake at the door. You can’t help the way you cringe, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “How much do the two of them owe?” you ask Penny who shakes her head.

“They’ll both come and pay tomorrow, I trust it” you sigh, smiling at her. “I gotta go” you can hear the faint slur in Jake’s voice. “But i thought we were gonna have some fun” she bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, in her drunken state attempting to look as sexy and sultry as possible.

Jake shakes his head and makes his way out the door. You follow both men out to your parked Jeep as Lindsey stares daggers into your back.

The car ride is silent except for the wind. You pulled into Bradleys apartment first, parking right by the steps, he climbs out.

“Thanks love, you’re the best” he reaches in to kiss your cheek as he makes his way up the steps. “Hey!” Jake scolds him as Bradley smirks and makes his way to his apartment. “Can I move to the front now?” Jake asks childishly. “Yes Jakob” you sigh with a smile.

He climbs out and makes his way into the front seat beside you as you pull out of the parking lot and make your way down the road to Jake’s apartment. “Thanks for coming to get me honey” he whispers, his slur is almost gone at this point. “You’re welcome” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“I’m sorry I did this to you” he mumbles as you shake your head. “I’d rather you be safe” you mumble.

“Why don’t you like to come get drinks with me anymore?” his drunk words flow out of him like vomit.

“I just don’t enjoy it much anymore, J” he nods slowly.

He knew you were lying but chose not to pry anymore while you were tired. “Can I come home with you?” he asks. Jake was quite needy in his semi-drunken state.

He did live down the road from you and did frequent your guest room often, hence his hoodie laying around your home. “I guess” you smirk, making the turn to your own home over Jakes.

He stumbles inside once the vehicle is parked. He was mostly sobered up as he made his way to the guest room. “See you in a few hours” he mumbles as you shake your head and make your way to your own bedroom.

The guest bedroom door opens, Jake makes his way out in a pair of black sweatpants he had left in the dresser drawer. "Sweetheart?" he questions as he yawns, making his way down the steps. He stops at the end of the stairs, looking around.

He notices the fresh smell of coffee and the few dishes in the sink. He jogs back up the stairs to see your bedroom door open, looking around its then he notices the pink note stuck to his door. Pulling it off the door, he sighs.

off to work, lock up on your way out.

+

The hard deck jukebox could be heard from streets away, it left you grinning. You pull into the parking lot, The Eagles “Life in the fastlane” playing through the speakers.

You don’t know how Rooster and Phoenix talked you into this but you climbed out and made your way inside. Dressed in a tank top and pair of denim shorts you look through the crowd for your favorite aviators.

“Sweetheart!” Jake’s voice yells for you, you look up at the sound of his voice. He pushes through the crowd of people to get to you.

He's singing to you as he approaches, "and she was terminally pretty" he grins, looking you up and down, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he smiles.

You looked so beautiful.

“Uh-yeah rooster and nat invited me” you smile up at him and move past him to your friends. Phoenix was aware of your feelings for Jake.

How hard it was to be out with him as he was always surround by woman, not once looking your way with them around. “Roo” you smile, patting his shoulder as he pulls you into his side for a hug.

“There's my favorite medic!” he grins as you chuckle. Jake makes his way back over to the group, sitting down as Ally makes her way to him, climbing in his lap.

He doesn’t hesitate to let her, adjusting in the seat to accommodate her. You sigh, turning to face Phoenix and Rooster.

“I don’t get it” you raise a brow, looking up from the table at the sound of Phoenix's voice. “What’s that?” you ask, crossing your leg over the other and arms over your chest.

“He acts like he wants to be around you so badly and then acts like that” she motions over to Jake, sitting back in his chair arm around Ally's waist, her group of friends around the two of them. You shrug, “not my problem anymore” you mumble, fishing out a few bills from your back pocket.

“I'm sorry to be a buzzkill but, thanks for inviting me guys but I think I’m gonna head home” you hand them the money to cover your drink and stand from the booth. Rooster stands, hands on your shoulders. “You don’t deserve him” he mumbles, giving your shoulder a squeeze and pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back and sigh heavily. “I guess I just have to get under a guy, they say that's the best way to get over one” you mumble against his chest as he laughs.

“See, that's the spirit” he grins, smiling at you. “Let us know if you need anything” he encourages as you smile.

It had been a week since your night at the hard deck with rooster and phoenix

a week before you decided it was best to put your distance between you and Jake.

The phone beside you began ringing. You knew exactly who it was. Reaching over you ignore the call for the second time and

Within seconds the phone rings again. You reach over and turn the phone off completely.

You did not have the energy to go and pick him up once again.

Maybe you would get over the man that is Jake Seresin.

rolling over and burying yourself deeper in the sheets of your bed, tears in your lash line as you sniffle to avoid them from falling.

You felt silly being this upset about a man who was not yours to be upset about.

You knew that he was a charming man when the two of you became friends, you also knew he looked at you as just that, a friend.

You shake your head and close your eyes.

The next morning as you turned your phone back on, the text messages piled in.

24 missed calls and 45 text messages.

You sigh and choose to delete the text messages and mute the conversation you have with him once again.

The drive to base was peaceful as you pulled into your designated parking lot. You were not gonna let this affect your work. “(y/n)!” you look over at Coyote waving to you,smiling, you wave back and mock salute to him.

He smiles, saluting back to you as he makes his way inside. Making your way to your office, you ignore the urge to turn and go down the hall to where you knew the dagger squad was meeting.

Jake sits down beside Rooster and Phoenix.

If looks could kill the two of them would be long gone.

“Can I help you?” Phoenix speaks first, arms crossed. “Spill” he adjusts in the seat, elbows resting on his knees as he looks between the two of them. “Spill what Hangman?” Rooster asks,looking over at him from his phone.

“Why won’t (y/n) talk to me” he mumbles, looking between them again. “Isn’t that a question for her?” Phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“I tried, I called her over a hundred times last night with no response” he defends as Phoenix shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you Hangman” Rooster nods in agreement with his girlfriend and Jake sighs heavily and stands from the chair. 

“(y/l/n)” turning at the sound of your name,clipboard in hand you raise your brow. “Yes ma’am” you set the clipboard down and approach your commanding officer. “We are going to need you to go out and assist in the atlantic” you nod quickly, “of course ma’am” she grins, reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you don’t love being tied down to one place too long” she smirks, heading to the door, “you will be heading out in the morning” you nod eagerly, ”and a car will be picking you up” she smiles with a nod and walks out the door.

You take a deep breath and wipe your once sweaty palms on your pants. You knew you needed to tell the dagger squad.

With a deep breath you head down the hall to the common room.

“Hangman, where are you?!” you can hear Fanboys voice over the comms. You knock gently on the door, Coyote,Phoenix,Rooster and Bob all turn to you.

“Hi” you wave as you make your way into them, sitting down beside Phoenix. Her face is full of concern, “what is it?” she asks as you turn to your closest friends.

“I’m being sent out tomorrow morning, they need additional medics out in the atlantic, of course I don’t know the full extent” you look at them, not seeing Jake standing in the doorway, panting.

“You’re leaving?” your eyes snap to Jake.

He’s still in his flight suit, the top half around his waist with his black tank top sticking to his skin. You turn from his eye back to Phoenix and Bob.

The two of them smile, nodding slowly. “We should go to the hard deck and have a send off party!” Coyote tries to lighten the mood, immediately noticing the tension in the room.

“I agree” Rooster chimes in, looking over at you. You smile sadly, “if you guys want I suppose” they cheer as you stand.

Jake hasn’t moved from the doorway, watching you. He watched the way you avoided his eye.

Walking out of the room, you brush Jake’s shoulder as you begin to walk down the hall to your office. You bit your lip as you heard his boots follow, you knew you couldn’t escape him anymore.

“(y/n)!” he reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to stop your movements. “What Jake?” you ask, turning to face him tilting your head. “What do you mean what?!” he defends, looking at you.

“You haven’t talked to me in days!” He throws his hands up, “not even days, weeks! You won’t answer my calls, you won't answer my text messages, you ignore me when you see me at work or even out in public!” he defends as his hands fall at his sides.

“Explain it to me!” he adds, hands on his hips as he looks over your face. “I’ve not been ignoring you” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes, “bullshit” he sits.

You sigh, hands on your own hips as you see conference room doors open and close. You knew his voice was traveling through the base.

“Not here Jake” you sigh softly, walking down the hall towards your office. “Explain it to me here (y/n)!” he yells.

You close your eyes, feeling the tears begin to fall down your cheeks. 

You knew you shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your place of employment. You can hear his boots approaching, you snap.

“Because I love you!” you yell back to face him, face red with tears. “I love you and I know you wouldn’t love someone like me!” you point to your chest looking at him as the tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

“I am not them!” you point out the window to Ally and the rest of the new top gun recruits on the tarmac. “I am not tall and sexy and-” Jake stands there, shocked at your reaction.

“You wouldn’t love someone like me! You-You- I am not Jake Seresin material and I can’t take you staying in my house anymore and I can’t take you being around me anymore because I knew” you sob, looking away from him.

“Distancing myself was going to help my heart get over you” you whisper turning around from him.

“This time away may be best for me” Jake's boots squeak along the concrete floors. “(y/n)” he whispers, he’s directly behind you now. Your shoulders shake, months of tension falling off your shoulders.

He reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to gently turn you back to face him, cupping your cheek to gently bring your eyes back to him. He’s also got tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Someone like you?” he whispers, looking over your face. “Someone who I have seen devote her life to others? Someone who I absolutely adore, who would spring to help anyone even at 3am after a drunk night at the bar. Someone like you” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not them Jake” you whisper as he shakes head, “and that’s what makes you so special” he reaches over and wipes your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you (y/n)” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see it” he chuckles as you look at him.

“Me!?” you defend as he grins. “I adore you, I fell in love with you years ago sweetheart” he watches the look in your eye, watching as you look at him, looking into the green eyes that brought you so much comfort.

“Y-You love me?” you look over his face for any signs of a joke, he chuckles. “I love you, not them other girls, not anyone but you” he smiles, leaning down to connect your lips. 

It takes you a moment to register what is happening by the time you are reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to you.

He pulls away slowly after a few minutes, nose nudging yours as his eyes close. “I can’t believe you” he whispers, “thinking I couldn’t love someone like you”  your eyes close, a small smile on your lips.

“I am not someone you’d go for J” you whisper with a smile as he shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist you sniffle against his black tank top.

“This is horrible timing” you mumble.

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart” he whispers against your hairline. 

+

The helicopter ride was quiet. The voices in your mind were louder.

You smile as the base comes into view, “we’re almost home” the pilot, Maria grins at you through her aviators.

You were off base for three months, sharing letters and as many zoom phone calls as possible with Jake and the rest of the dagger squad.

The tarmac is laid out as the helicopter begins its descent. You pull the headset off and stand, leaning out the side of the helicopter, hands holding the handles. The smell of the ocean brought you a sense of comfort.

You knew the minute you laid eyes on Jake and your family, you would be home. You can hear cheering from the ground as the chopper finally lands. Climbing down, you stand on the pavement and take a deep breath.

You were home.

The doors opened and the dagger squad all rushed out. “She’s home!” Rooster yells with a smile on his face. You grin, standing on the big x. This was your family.

Ally and her group of friends follow Jake out of the doors.

Your eyes fall to each other as she continues to attempt to grab onto his arm. “Scuse me” he moves from her and begins his jog to you.

You meet him halfway and he grabs you by the waist and spins your around, holding you close to his body. You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “My girl is home!” he grins, setting you to your feet.

“Welcome home sweet girl he grins, leaning down to connect your lips.

Maybe someone like you deserves someone like him.

--

if you enjoyed this fic, you can find more fics in the library, here!

as always, if you enjoyed this fic, likes reblogs & comments are always welcomed! - remember, please do not repost any of my work on other media platforms!!!

ps. i knew I would get something out! thanks for always being patient with me I swear theres alot going on in this brain of mine!!

[floralfloyd]

on the brink.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: having children was never on the table. you never had the maternal instinct that most girls seemed to have growing up and you had no interest in the mundane tasks that came with acting as a mother in a plastic playground house. but when you're forced to choose between your husband's and your own dreams, the decision gets a little bit more complicated. aka the unplanned pregnancy fic that no one asked for

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion

author's note: okay i know this is not the fic that i've been promising yall, but i swear i'm working on it. this is pretty different than a lot of things that i've written before. a bit of self expression and indulgence if you will so just bear with me (if you hate it don't tell me)

————————————————————————

"I'm never having kids," you had admitted suddenly into the darkness of the cabin, staring up at the ceiling. The waves lapped at the sides of the ship, swaying the carrier just slightly. There was nothing, not even the faint footsteps of a sailor patrolling on night duty overhead, just the sounds of the vast open sea all around.

You could practically hear Bradley's eyebrows furrow, his voice of surprise coming out a bit loud considering the sailors that slept all around you. "Why?"

"Isn't that what you said to Maverick?" you retorted.  "'No wife, no kids to mourn you when you burn in'?"

Even in the dimly lit bunk room, you could see Bradley sit up, his broad figure washed in blue moonlight. "That's not— Maverick's a—"

"A man?"

Bradley doesn't answer.

"Fuck you, Bradshaw."

As the years progressed, that was the typical response you received when you expressed your reluctance to have children. After a while, you grew used to it, being made out to be a monster, being told you would change your mind. You knew you wouldn't of course, but your act of considering the suggestion eased the consciences of those who thought they had carried out their duty of convincing you otherwise.

You never had the maternal instinct that most girls seemed to have growing up. You had no interest in the mundane tasks that came with acting as a mother in a plastic playground house or pushing a doll in a stroller. Because you never leave that plastic playground house. Not even when you grow up do you escape those four suffocating walls.

Because once you become a mother, that is all you are. Because that's who a mother is. Someone who devotes every single waking moment of the rest of their lives sacrificing for their children. Who you were before, your past, your achievements, that's not who you are anymore. You are 'Mom', 'Mommy', 'Mamma'.

You give it all up to be a mom. Because there is nothing worse than an absent mother. You had experienced it first hand, and you wouldn't do that to your children.

Your mother sacrificed to be a mom. But there wasn't a day that she let you forget it.

One thing you feared was the havoc it would wreck on your career. You were selfish in that way. Setting aside your career was not an option, not when you had worked so hard for so long. On top of being in the military, not wanting children was another blaring red flag. The combination didn't exactly lend itself to many dating opportunities.

Therefore, when you first met Jake, you weren't looking for anything serious. You knew how these kinds of things went. It would be fine at first. He'd be smitten with you, enamored even. You'd see each other for a while, maybe even start dating if things got that far. And then more serious conversations would happen, and he'd realize that no man wants to marry a woman who puts herself first.

Except Jake didn't seem to mind.

"Okay," he had replied without much hesitation. Dare you say without any hesitation.

"Okay?" You echoed in response, the confusion in your voice evident.

He'd shrugged, tipping back the last of his beer before standing up. "Yeah. Okay." You craned your neck to follow him. Jake stopped in front of you, leaning over to peck your lips. "We'll figure it out, okay?" And then he'd turned to take his righteous place at the dart board, as if it was as easy as that.

And for a while it almost was.

The Uranium mission came and went, deployments passed, and it all was just that easy. With the Commander of the Pacific Fleet on your side, it was never too hard to get assignments relatively near to each other, and even then, Jake was only ever a flight away. Even in the years before the two of you got around to getting married, when your chances of getting deployed halfway across the country from each other were high, it was all just so easy.

It was laughable how well things worked out between you and Jake. And maybe that sort of ease came with being in the same line of work and understanding the stress of the job, but even outside of that, life with Jake was ridiculously simple. As strange as it was to admit, your life didn't change drastically when Jake came into it. Jake liked to sleep by the door so the left side of the bed was still yours, Jake got off of work at the same time as you so you weren't stuck waiting around for someone to come home, he didn't speak to his family much so there were never any obligatory family gatherings to attend, and like you, he was in no rush to buy a home or get married. The only reason the two of you did finally get around to getting married was because Nat was convinced the two of you would just stay engaged forever and so she planned the whole ceremony herself. And there was no saying no to Nat.

Even after you married Jake, nothing changed. You moved in together sure, and with that came the assurance that you'd be the first person the Navy notified if anything ever happened to him and the same for you, but that was about it. All of the terrible things people warn you that will happen once you move in with your partner never happen. It's so fucking easy.

Until it isn't.

Jake is away on a mission when you start having symptoms. Not really even symptoms, just a bit of nausea here and there, an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Call it intuition if you will, but you know something is wrong. You dismiss it at first, put it off because you can. It's only once you start puking after every early morning hop that you come to terms with the fact that you've been avoiding the truth. And as much as you'd like to pretend like it isn't happening, you have to do something. You make an appointment at a clinic for the following week.

You wait until Jake's stateside to tell him. Not because there's any decision for you to make, or that you want to give him the opportunity to change your mind because you know he won't, but because you're established enough in your relationship that you know that this isn't going to change anything. As Jake had reassured you years ago, it was okay. You'd figure it out.

Jake had gotten back home early in the morning, but because you'd been assigned an early hop and then agreed to take on some of the newer pilots in some dogfighting, most of the day has passed by the time you're leaving base and you've still yet to see him. Just as you're grabbing your things and leaving the locker room, planning on calling him on the way to the clinic, he catches you in the hall.

You're mid stride when he saunters around the corner, moving with just enough comfortable confidence in his walk that it comes off as cocky, like he owns the place and hasn't been gone for a month. Jake breaks out into a grin. "Ah just who I was hoping to see."

"Jake!" you state in surprise, barley registering who he is before he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a long overdue hug. One of his large hands comes up to pet your hair, the other squeezes your waist. Relaxing, you breathe him in, musky and familiar. You've been slightly on edge all day and a hug from him was just what you needed.

Phoenix huffs from behind you, breaking the silence. "That's funny because I was hoping not to see you, Bagman." The gleam in her eyes is affectionate. The Dagger Squad has remained close in the following years but that's not to say that old rivalries fade.

Jake releases you from the embrace for the most part but keeps his heavy arm draped across your shoulders, holding you close. "You been takin' care of my wife, Trace?" he asks, his voice warm and heavy.

Natasha glares at him playfully over her shoulder as she pushes past the two of you. "She was my wife before she was yours, Seresin. You stay gone too long again and I might steal her back."

You smile privately to yourself as they banter back and forth, watching as Phoenix finally disappears down the hallway. For a moment you forget about what you're about to do. Jake looks down at you, his grin stretching widely across his face, once again as he squeezes you in close. "Ready to head home?" he asks, his arm dropping from around you so that he can grab your bag.

Suddenly you hesitate, the words caught in your throat.

Immediately, Jake's smile falters just slightly, his brow creasing in worry as he steps back towards you. "It's everything okay? Did something happen?"

A sudden on rush of tears are stinging at your eyes and you struggle to get the words out of your closing throat.

"I think I'm pregnant, Jake."

At first you can't tell what he's thinking because the look on his face becomes immediately serious. His smile vanishes and his brow lifts in surprise. "Oh."

"Oh?"  You echo, panic that you hadn't thought existed rising in your throat. Was he angry?

"No, I mean, fuck, that's great, baby," he quickly clarifies, reaching out to take your hand. "I just wasn't expecting that."

You stare at him, your panic rising even more now. Because that was not what you were expecting. "Great? No, it's not great. What do you mean, great?! I thought you said you didn't want kids?!"

Jake shrugs, throwing his hands up slightly in exasperation. "I mean maybe I didn't at one point, but things change, (Y/n). This isn't a bad thing."

Your eyebrows shoot up. Because this is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened. "Are you kidding, Jake?! I can't be a mom! I'm a fucking fighter pilot!"

Now it's Jake's turn to look confused, like he's not quite sure where you're heading with this. Again, he shrugs, tossing up his hands. "So? I mean you would have to take some time off, but it's not unrealistic. People do it."

You look at him as if he's suddenly grown two heads. "Jake, you don't just "take time off" to raise a kid. That's not a temporary thing. That's the rest of my life."

Jake crosses his arms, going quiet for a moment before he sighs. "Okay, so quit. It's not like we need the money."

And suddenly everything you thought you'd ever known comes crashing down. There goes your career, your relationship, and the rest of your life. Your heart sinks to rock bottom in your chest because this is not how this was supposed to go. A broken, "What?" is all that escapes your cracked open chest.

Sensing your panic, Jake reaches out, his large, gentle fingers brushing your wrist. His voice is soft. "Look, I know this wasn't in the plans, but that doesn't mean it can't be. We could make it work."

You step back, pulling away from his outstretched hand as if he's burned you. "I can't believe that you would even suggest that," you say, the words 'so quit' ringing in your head. "Do you know how hard I worked to get to where I am right now?!"

Just being in the Navy as a female was hard. Even with going to the academy, the military was a man's world. You had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of the respect that you deserved. And now to be here, where you are today at Top Gun, you've more than earned it.

Jake sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm not telling you to quit. It was just a suggestion since you seem to think that you can't do both."

It's then that you come to the realization that he doesn't get it. No one gets it. 

"I don't think you understand, Jake. I don't fucking want to do it. I don't want to be a mom."

And to that, Jake doesn't say anything. He just stares at you, his usually warm green eyes void of the typical playful gleam that they hold. The two of you stand there in silence for a long time, allowing the the thick blanket of realization to finally settle over you.

"So that's it?" Jake finally asks, his voice sounding closed off and hurt. "I don't even get a say?"

"Don't try to guilt me here, Jake. You knew how I felt about this, and you still married me. So no, you don't get a say."

Jake looks down at his boots, hands braced on his hips as your words process. He swallows, and you know he's fighting the tears in his eyes. "Okay."

"Jake—"

He picks your bag back up from the floor and turns his back towards you, heading for the exit door. "Go do what you have to do, (Y/n). I'll see you at home."

——

When you get back home, Jake is sitting alone at the kitchen table. From the looks of the empty bottle of beer beside him, he's been there for a while. Head in his hands, as if to ward off a headache, he only looks up once you approach the table. His fingers twist at the ring on his left hand.

Quietly, you place the ultrasound prints on the table—face down so that you don't have to look at them. You open your mouth, the words 'six weeks' about to escape, when Jake holds up his hand.

"Don't— (Y/n). Just don't."

You know he's hurt and you understand why. But when it comes down it it, this is your life. No matter how much you love Jake, you aren't going to suffer with a child you don't want to have out of the obligation of your relationship. You cross your arms defensively in front of your chest. "Then what do you want, Jake? Because I don't know what to do," you admit.

Jake stares across the table at you, his gaze unflinching, before his eyes fall to the black and white prints.

"I'm all in, (Y/n). I meant that much when I married you." His fingers tug at the ring on his finger and this time it slips past the knuckle and into his palm. "Either you're in or you're out."

You stare at the golden band and his suddenly bare finger and realize that you hardly remember a time that it wasn't there. With your throat constricting, you look back up to the face of the man that you love.

"Jake," you begin, and your voice breaks as you say his name. "You're asking me to choose between you and my job. That's not fair."

Jake sighs. He sets the ring down on the table and stands up. You watch him with a sinking heart.

"It seems like a pretty easy choice to me," he says finally. "Because I would choose you every time."

The thought hits you that maybe this is you being selfish. You have always been a selfish person, even your mother had always told you so. Was it so selfish to choose yourself—your career—over a hypothetical future? The military was not a kind profession to females who wanted families. You had seen too many women settle for less in their careers because they decided that the timeline of rising in the ranks was too long to wait and they chose to have children instead. A coworker had confessed to you that despite how much she loved her husband and her children, her life ended when she had them.

Realistically, you couldn't have both. Jake knew that. You knew that.

You can't even look Admiral Simpson in the eye when you had him your letter of resignation.

[floralfloyd]

TURBULENCE

summary: jake would never get over how ironic it was. You, the wife of a naval pilot, scared of a little turbulence

paring: Jake Seresin x reader

word count: 329

“Don’t laugh,” you wine at your husband as he chuckles get louder causing the people around to look at him weirdly.

“I’m sorry Darlin’. It’s just a little funny,” Jake is loving how ironic this all is.

“It’s not funny.” He kisses your pouty lips when your grip on his hand gets tighter, “I know honey.”

Currently the two of you were sitting in a commercial plane on your way back to Texas for the holiday. Mid flight a storm picked up causing the plane to catch some turbulence.

It was safe to say you are absolutely terrified of flying, the plane rocking back and forth wasn’t helping and somehow your husband found the situation absolutely hilarious.

How ironic was it that the wife of a commander with two confirmed air combat kills was scared of flying.

Opposites really do attract.

Another wave of turbulence passes and Jake swears by the time they land his hand will be broken with how hard you're squeezing it. Not that he’s complaining.

He may be giggling at current circumstances but he still made sure to hold and comfort you.

“How come you never get this skittish when I’m flying?” Jake asks. He knows the answer, he’s asked the same question before but right now he’s just hoping to distract you.

Whenever you were in the backseat of his plane you were still scared out of your mind but never afraid when you were with him.

“I trust you with my life and I know you’ll never let anything happen to me.”

“That’s right,” Jake agrees. “I’ll never let any danger come to you as long as we both live. So believe me when I tell you there’s nothing to worry about, we’re okay.”

“I believe you.”

“Okay.” He pulls you closer when you let out another whimper at the sudden motion of the plane. Jake plants a peck on your forehead before resting your head under his chin, “shh, I got you.”

[floralfloyd]

Silly little life

Summary: Hangman skips a mission to be by Y/N's side during a tough labor, and together they welcome their baby girl into the world, showing just how strong their bond is.

Warning: Contains intense depictions of labor pain and emotional distress during childbirth.

Word count: 3476 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part two of Little Life

Part 3

The Dagger squad gathered in the briefing room, the usual air of anticipation hanging thick in the space. Maverick stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out at the group. Phoenix leaned back in her chair, her legs casually crossed, while Rooster sat forward, elbows on the table, a curious look on his face. Fanboy and Payback were murmuring something under their breath, probably joking about who’d outfly who on the next mission. Coyote sat closest to the front, sharp-eyed and waiting for instructions. Bob, as usual, was quietly observing from the corner, his ever-attentive gaze locked on Maverick.

But one thing was missing—Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to cut it close, swaggering in just as the briefing started, flashing his cocky grin as if the world bent to his timing. But today, he was nowhere to be seen.

Maverick cleared his throat, and the chatter in the room died down, all eyes turning toward him. He gave them a measured look, the kind of expression that immediately told the group something was off.

“I’m going to keep this short,” Maverick began, his voice calm but firm. “As you’ve all noticed, Hangman’s not here.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in her chair. “Where is he? It’s not like Jake to miss a briefing.”

Rooster shot her a look, his expression sceptical. “Maybe he’s just late. Hangman never misses a chance to show off.”

Maverick shook his head. “He’s not late. He’s not coming.”

A murmur ran through the squad, surprise rippling across their faces. Payback’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Fanboy exchanged a quick glance with Coyote, who looked genuinely confused.

Bob, ever the quiet one, spoke up from the back, his voice soft but clear. “Why not? What happened?”

Maverick let out a slow breath, his gaze steady. “Jake’s not going to be joining us on this mission. He’s dealing with... important family business.” The way he said it left little room for questions. It was vague, deliberate. He wasn’t going to share more than that, and the squad knew it.

Phoenix frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced around the room. “Family business?” she echoed. “Jake never mentioned—”

“He didn’t have to,” Maverick interrupted, his tone kind but firm. “Whatever it is, it’s personal, and it’s not your place to pry. The information only belongs to him and his commanders.”

There was a pause, the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air. The Dagger squad wasn’t used to Jake missing missions, especially without an explanation. He was Hangman—their most confident, always-present wingman: bit of a douche too. The idea of him having something outside of flying, something that pulled him away, was almost unimaginable.

Rooster scratched at his chin, his brow furrowed. “Is he okay?”

Maverick’s gaze flickered to Rooster, then to the rest of the squad. “He’s fine,” he reassured them, though his voice held a tone that indicated there was more to the story than he was letting on. “He’ll be back when he’s ready. Until then, you focus on the mission at hand.”

Coyote, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his deep voice filled with concern. “So we’re just supposed to carry on without him?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Maverick replied, his voice sharp. “Hangman knows what he’s doing, and he knows when to step back. Right now, his focus is where it needs to be.”

There was a silence in the room, heavy with unanswered questions. The squad exchanged glances, each one processing the news in their own way. Phoenix looked thoughtful, her mind clearly working through what “family business” could mean for someone like Jake, someone who seemed to live for the thrill of flying and the camaraderie of the squad. Rooster’s expression remained puzzled, though a part of him seemed to respect the privacy Maverick was asking for.

Bob, still calm and collected, nodded quietly to himself. “Understood.”

Maverick gave them all a final, serious look. “Jake will be back when he’s ready. Until then, we move forward. Focus on the mission. That’s all.”

With that, Maverick turned and walked out, leaving the room in a quiet, subdued atmosphere. The Dagger squad sat for a moment longer, absorbing the reality that Hangman wouldn’t be flying with them this time.

But none of them could shake the question lingering in their minds: What kind of family business was important enough to pull Jake Seresin away from the skies?

---

Hours. It felt like you’d been in labor for days instead of hours. Every contraction tore through you, leaving you drenched in sweat, your muscles aching from the strain. The hospital room was dimly lit, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor the only constant in the chaos of your body. You tossed and turned on the bed, trying to find some relief, but nothing seemed to help.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, damp and tangled, and every breath felt labored, like your lungs could barely keep up with the demands of your body. Groaning in discomfort, you shifted again, the cold sheets doing nothing to cool your overheated skin. Your hand gripped the side of the bed as another wave of pain hit, your knuckles white from the pressure.

Jake was beside you, his hand on your arm, trying his best to soothe you. His voice was soft, calm, like he was trying to talk you through a flight manoeuvre. “You’re doing amazing, darlin’,” he whispered, his other hand gently brushing the hair from your face. “Breathe through it, okay? We’re almost there.”

But his words didn’t bring you the comfort they usually did. You were too far gone in the discomfort, the contractions relentless, your body feeling like it was fighting against itself. You groaned again, louder this time, unable to hold back the frustration as the pressure built in your lower abdomen.

“Jake, I can’t—” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction took hold. The pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt, a deep, all-consuming force that made you want to scream, cry, or both. You could feel Jake’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said softly, his voice tight with worry. “You’re so strong. Just keep going, alright?”

You cracked one eye open, looking at him through the haze of exhaustion. His face was lined with concern, his brow furrowed as he held the small plastic cup of ice chips in his hand. You could tell he was trying to be strong for you, but you could also see the fear in his eyes—the helplessness. He hated seeing you like this, and even though he was doing everything he could, there was nothing that could truly ease your pain.

He brought a spoonful of ice chips to your lips, his touch gentle, careful. “Here, darlin’, try to take a little more,” he urged, but you turned your head slightly, too tired, too uncomfortable to want anything in that moment.

“I don’t want the damn ice,” you snapped, immediately feeling bad as soon as the words left your mouth. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed with the never-ending discomfort.

Jake didn’t take it personally. He just nodded, setting the cup down on the table beside him before leaning in, his hand still resting on your arm. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing great. I’m right here.”

You groaned again, a deep, guttural sound that came from the pit of your stomach as your body prepared for another contraction. The pressure in your hips and lower back was unbearable, and no amount of repositioning or soothing touches could make it stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, panting, desperate for this to end. You could feel the sweat trickling down your neck, your whole body shaking with the effort of holding on. Every time you thought the pain had peaked, it got worse, and your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to ride through it.

Jake’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. He was trying to help, you knew that, but nothing he did seemed to touch the raw intensity of what you were feeling. You could hear him murmuring something under his breath—soft encouragements, maybe—or a prayer that this would be over soon.

Your grip on his hand tightened as another wave hit, and you groaned again, your whole body arching off the bed with the sheer force of it. It felt like you were being pulled apart, every muscle in your body straining as you fought to stay in control. But it was slipping. You were slipping.

“Jake,” you panted, your voice breaking. “I—I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “You’re almost there, baby. I promise. Just a little longer, okay? You’ve got this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to hold onto his words and let them carry you through. But right now, it felt like there was no end in sight. Just more pain, more pressure, more of this endless battle between your body and the life you were about to bring into the world.

But through the haze of discomfort and exhaustion, you could feel his presence, solid and unwavering, anchoring you to the moment. And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, that was enough to keep you going.

Even if the ice chips weren’t.

The hours dragged on, and it felt like you were stuck in a whirlwind of pain and exhaustion. Every contraction was a tidal wave, crashing over you, pulling you under. You’d lost track of time, your body trembling with the effort it took just to breathe through each one. Jake hadn’t left your side, his hand gripping yours firmly, as if he could somehow share in the pain.

The nurse's calm voice broke through the fog, "It’s almost time to push, Y/N."

Your breath hitched as another contraction seized you, so powerful that you couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped your lips. Your muscles were tight, your back arching against the bed. Every fibre of your being was screaming for this to end, for the overwhelming pressure to stop.

"Almost time?" you muttered between pants, your voice ragged from hours of groaning and yelling. "Feels like I’ve been at this forever."

Jake leaned closer, his face full of concern, his hand never leaving yours. “You’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer,” he whispered, though you could hear the tension in his voice. You could see the worry etched on his face, the furrow in his brow. He was scared, even if he was doing his best to hide it from you.

The doctor’s voice cut through the haze. "Okay, Y/N, the baby’s almost here. I need you to push when you feel the next contraction, alright?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to gather every last ounce of strength left in your body. When the next wave hit, you bore down, groaning through clenched teeth as you pushed with everything you had.

"Good! That’s it," the doctor encouraged, her voice steady. "Keep going."

But the pressure—it felt like you were being torn in two. "Oh my God," you groaned, panting. "This baby… this baby has your fat head!"

You heard Jake choke back a laugh, his voice tight with emotion. "Hey now, darlin’, let’s not go blaming me for that," he teased, trying to lighten the mood, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

You growled through another push, your face contorting in pain. "I swear, Jake, if this kid has your big-ass head, I’m never letting you forget it!"

He kissed your forehead, his voice soft but laced with a chuckle. “You can blame me all you want, but you’re doing amazing, baby. You’re so strong.”

Another contraction ripped through you, and you squeezed his hand so hard you were sure you’d break it. You could barely focus, barely think beyond the burning pressure and the overwhelming need to push. But even through the haze of agony, the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I swear to God, Jake, I’m never doing this again!” you groaned. “Never!"

He nodded, his eyes filled with warmth and concern as he whispered soothingly. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

But the next contraction hit, and despite the pain, you pushed harder, feeling the unbearable pressure of the baby moving down. The pain was white-hot, and you let out a strangled cry, your body trembling from the effort.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, tossing your head back against the pillow. "I hate you, Jake! This is your fault!"

Jake squeezed your hand, his voice gentle but steady. "You can hate me all you want, darlin’. You’re doing incredible. Almost there."

You groaned again, guilt mixing with the frustration. You didn’t mean any of it—not really—but the pain had twisted everything inside you, and you couldn’t help but lash out. The guilt made it worse, made your heart ache even through the physical agony.

"I’m sorry," you gasped between ragged breaths. "I don’t… I don’t mean it, I just—" another contraction cut you off, and you screamed, pushing as hard as you could. The burn was intense, and you could feel the baby’s head beginning to crown.

"You’re okay, you’re okay," Jake murmured, his forehead resting against yours now, his voice a grounding force in the chaos. "You’ve got this. You’re almost there, sweetheart."

You bore down again, your whole body trembling as you pushed with everything you had left. The pain was searing, and you could feel the baby’s head stretching you, the sensation overwhelming.

"I swear this kid has your huge head!" you groaned again, your voice a mix of pain and humour as you struggled to keep going.

The doctor’s voice cut through, sharp and encouraging. "One more big push, Y/N. The head’s almost out."

You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath, and pushed again, harder than before. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, and then—

Suddenly, the pain shifted. There was a release, and the tension in your body eased. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest, and then, you heard it—a sharp, clear cry that echoed through the room.

The baby’s first cry.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the doctor held up the tiny, wriggling form for you to see. "It’s a girl!" she announced, and for a moment, all the pain, all the exhaustion, melted away. Your heart swelled as you looked at her—your baby girl.

Jake let out a shaky breath beside you, his voice breaking as he whispered, "We have a daughter."

You watched through tear-filled eyes as the nurse cleaned her up, bringing her over and placing her carefully in your arms. She was so small, her little face scrunched up, her tiny fists waving in the air. You felt Jake’s arm around your shoulders, his hand resting gently on your baby girl’s head as the two of you gazed down at her.

All the pain, all the frustration and discomfort—it didn’t matter anymore. You smiled softly, still breathless, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cradled your daughter to your chest.

"She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You did it, darlin’. You brought our little girl into the world."

As the room quieted, the nurses moved about with practiced ease, cleaning and tidying up, but all your attention was on Jake and your baby girl. After a moment of letting you hold her, Jake gently reached down, his large hands cradling her tiny form as he took her from your arms, holding her with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. The way he looked at her—with awe, love, and the purest joy—made your breath catch.

But as soon as she left your arms, a wave of emotion hit you like a tidal wave. You were still shaky, still exhausted from labor, but now a new weight settled over your chest. The words you’d shouted, the anger, the frustration—all of it came flooding back. You hadn’t meant any of it, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that twisted in your stomach.

You looked over at Jake, watching him coo softly to your baby girl, his thumb brushing over her cheek as she wriggled slightly in his arms. The sight should have filled you with nothing but joy, but instead, tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks before you could even try to hold them back.

You wiped at your face, embarrassed by the sudden flood of emotions, but it only made the tears come harder. The sobs were quiet at first, but soon, your shoulders shook with the force of them, each breath hitching in your chest.

Jake’s head whipped toward you immediately. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. He moved closer, still holding your daughter, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you in pain? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. You tried to take a deep breath, but it only made the sobs come harder. The guilt weighed on you, heavy and crushing, and you couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you choked, your voice barely a whisper through the tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jake’s eyes softened, and he knelt beside you, carefully balancing your daughter in his arms while reaching out to take your hand. “Sorry? Darlin’, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

But you couldn’t stop. The guilt gnawed at you, every word you’d said during labor echoing in your mind. “I yelled at you. I—I said such awful things. I blamed you, and it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean any of it, Jake, I swear, I didn’t.” Your voice broke again, tears streaming down your face as you looked at him through blurry eyes.

Jake’s face softened even more, his expression full of understanding and love. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You just went through hell bringing our little girl into the world. You were in pain. I know you didn’t mean any of that.”

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “But I—” you started, but Jake leaned in closer, cutting you off gently.

“No buts,” he whispered, his voice firm but filled with warmth. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you. You were incredible, Y/N. And our little girl is here because of you.” His gaze flickered down to the tiny bundle in his arms, her little eyes closed as she slept soundly.

You let out a shaky breath, your sobs quieting but still present as you watched Jake cradle your daughter so carefully. “I just… I feel so bad,” you whispered, your chest still tight with guilt. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. “Darlin’, you could’ve called me every name in the book, and I still wouldn’t hold it against you. You brought our baby into the world. That’s all that matters.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred with tears, but his words cut through the guilt, soothing the ache in your heart. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you with so much love and admiration.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” Jake replied softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he gently shifted your daughter back into your arms. The warmth of her tiny body against yours made your heart swell, the tears still slipping down your cheeks, but this time, they were different. The guilt was still there, but it was fading, replaced by the overwhelming love you felt for your little family.

Jake sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you held your daughter between you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “And now we’ve got this perfect little girl. We did it, darlin’.”

You nodded, sniffling as you looked down at your baby, the small miracle you and Jake had brought into the world. And despite the exhaustion, despite the tears, you couldn’t help but smile through it all. You had your family, and that was everything.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Part 3

[floralfloyd]

To Be Loved | B.B + J.S

T/W: 2+1 fic, past abusive relationship, hurt|comfort, cheater bradley, self esteem issues, dub con— sexual assault the reader never in the right headspace, coercion— bradley emotionally manipulates the reader into having sex bradley pulls the reader hair, he also chokes the reader despite her knowing she doesn’t like it , no aftercare, kissing but its fluffy, pre-top gun maverick, allusions to jake childhood

Summary: Two times Bradley makes you cry and one time he doesn’t.

important note: this fic is heavily about abuse, which can be very triggering I think I put a trigger warning for everything but If I haven’t please tell me. - PLEASE BE CAREFUL -

A/n: finally back with a fic i really wanted to a do a b.b x reader fic by im still on a Jake kick, so why not kill two birds with one stone?, also i wrote it pre- tpgm bcus i couldn’t figure out how to write jake being the boyfriend to his teammate ex girlfriend.

Word Count: 2.2k

—

one.

Its started a few days after celebrating another successful mission pulled of by the dagger squad.

You watched the brunette woman hanging off your boyfriend arm the entire night. Bradley spent his entire time in her face, laughing at her jokes—smiling at her when she suggests taking her home. “Remind me next time Rachel”. His words left a sour taste in your mouth after hearing them. Bradley says it with no hesitation— it rolls of his tongue so confidently that you believe he truly will do it next time. Little did you know that Bradley would stay true to his word.

You should’ve know better.

Past relationships taught you, you’d never be the woman men stayed for. Your the woman they leave for a prettier woman, a smarter woman— the woman who deserves to hang off their arm. Your the woman men need for a quick fuck—not an actual relationship. You naively thought Bradley loved you—that he enjoyed being with you.

Nothing would fix your relationship with Bradley, no amount of fucking— apologies could fix what you broke between you and him. If only you tried harder to keep him happy, to keep him. Why did you let her into you and his bubble— why didn’t you tell her off?

Probably because it been weeks since Bradley looked at you with a smile. Anytime you met his gaze he seemed so irritated with your presence. His jaw clenches whenever you go on for to long about your workday. There were more signs, weeks ago you stood in the mirror putting on his favorite lingerie set. Out of the corner of your eye, Bradley had been wrinkling his nose in digust.

You just wanted Bradley to be happy, hated being the reason of why he’s been so upset lately. You do anything to make Bradley happy again even if it meant him fucking another woman.

You get jealous when you find a newly bought engraved necklace in Bradleys nightstand. You’d been looking for extra batteries for the remote, you get startled by the perfectly wrapped necklace in the drawer. Running your fingers over the initials, small tears fall from your eyes. B+R— To be loved.

He bought her the necklace you asked for three christmases ago. You wanted to walk around with piece of him every where you went.

Sitting on the bed with the necklace dangling in your hands. Its a beautiful piece of jewelry for a beautiful woman— no wonder why he bought for Rachel and not you.

You slip the necklace back into its case, sliding it back into Bradley drawer.

“Darlin just your smile alone makes me want retire early”. He smiles into your hairline, “fuck”. he muttered, how Bradley supposed wake up in the morning and leave this gorgeous woman behind.

Bradley swore to you nothing whatever make him leave you, your body changing, pressure from his job—a woman.

—

two.

You don’t remember much of what happened. One minute Bradley has you forgetting your own name— making you screaming till your throat dry. The next minute your laying there in pool of your own tears, shivering with fear.

He pressed his hand down too hard on your throat. Bradley knows how much you hate any pressure being on it—“Me and Rachel do this all the time baby”.

“Just lay there and stay quiet baby”, Bradley shushes you and you can’t but stare in awe in at the affection hes giving you. For once your making him happy, for once its you on his mind instead of Rachel.

“B-Bradley?” your trying to lay still like he told you to but you can’t help the anxious feeling cursing through your veins when his grip on your throat gets tighter.

Can’t take a little pain Y/n?

“Baby stop whining, I know it been awhile but jesus”. He sighs, and you feel so upset at how pathetic you sound, he just wants to be happy and your not letting him. “Jesus Y/n stop moving”. he rolls his eyes at the sound of you whimpering.

Your face heats up in embarrassment, you weren’t good like used to be. You stifle the sob thats crawling up your throat threatening to escape.

Just stay calm.

Just stay quiet.

But you can’t, your vibrating with so much fear that it makes Bradley more angrier than before. “If your not gonna fucking stay still”, he hisses at you spit flying all over your face, “I’ll glady take myself over to Rachels”.

Your breathing picks up at the mention of her name, you don’t want Bradley leave again— you just got him back again.

You can’t tell if he’s touching you anymore.“Fuck Y/n”

The bed dips as Bradley crawls off of you, his footsteps are heavy with anger. You hear him moving around in the bathroom, the water turning on.

Bradley leaning over you staring at you with a confused look. You think he’s trying to figure out how to pick you up and take you to the bathroom with him.

But he isn’t.

He toss a rag at you, “I don’t want stains on the bed”, Bradley tone is harsh, he’s already walking back to the bathroom, he doesn’t stay to see if you give him a response. He doesn’t wait and see if your okay.

The sob you’d been holding back finally escapes, but it hurts when it does. You can still feel Bradley finger nails digging into your throat-it even hurts to swallow air.

Your skin hurts after you clean yourself with the dry washcloth Bradley gave you. You don’t have enough energy to stand and walk to the nearest sink and run the washcloth under water.

Your eyes must’ve been closed for a while

The bathroom door opens, Bradley standing in the doorway with his toothbrush in his mouth— shaking a towel through his wet curly hair. You meet his eyes and he seems so disappointed in you— you can’t do anything right Y/n.

He moves around the room, grabbing clothes from the drawer to make an outfit. You decide it best to lay there in silence— you can tell Bradley not in the mood to talk , especially not now.

When Bradley does decide to speak to you, he leaning aganist the doorway with his arms crossed over one another. You assume that he draws his eyebrows together at how disheveled you looked.

Your skin is paled and clammy- when’s the last time you’ve had water, food?

Your hair matted from Bradley pulling and tugging at it the entire time. Your scalp sore even when your trying to flip on the less sore side of your head.

“I’m going out Y/n”, his tone flat. Going out doesn’t mean spending time with Phoenix anymore, he’s missed months of Hard Deck nights. It means going to her house, laying in bed with her,fucking her.

He leans off the doorway walking away leaving you in silence. It sounds like Bradley almost stopped at the sounds of your sobs, like he almost cared that you were in pain. His footsteps become out of ear shot—your sobs get louder.

There’s no point of holding them back anymore.

—

three.

Jake Seresin can do alot of things without care, being asshole to his teammates— leaving them behind, picking up random women from the hard deck and having a one night stands.

What he can’t do is watch the love of his life struggle to believe that she’s capable of being loved.

“Just the thought of sex makes me uncomfortable”. Your head laying across Jake stomach, he running his fingers through your hair. “I might not be comfortable for awhile Jake, and if you don’t want that I suggest you—”. Jakes cuts you off, he presses a kiss into your skull, you began to fumble for words.

“Sweetheart”. Jake’s pushing himself from the laying position he was in, his head aganist the headboard. You can’t help but notice the flick the anger that passes through Jakes face , a lump fear settles in your throat-you can’t fault him for being angry at you.

“Did you really think I leave you just like that?”. You can’t tell if Jake really wants you to answer the question because he cares, or because he’s seconds away from hitting you. You figure its because he cares, since his jaw isn’t clenched, he’s not rolling his eyes at you and he hasn’t raised his voice yet.

“I’m sorry Jake”, tears glistening in your eyes—“I know you never would I-I don’t know, can you forgive me”. A couple of tears slide down your face, Jake raises his hand towards your face wanting to wipe the tears away. You almost flinch, forgetting that the man next to you isn’t him— the man next to you despite the rumors is the kindest man known to man, he would rather walk through fire than hurt you.

Its breaks Jakes heart to see Y/n look so distraught. Nothing will ever make Jake Seresin leaves his girl, not even death. He knows about his doll ex-boyfriend, he knows how much that asshole made Y/n feel so little about herself, Jake knew if he ever saw the son of bitch he throw his entire career away just to beat the shit out of him.

His Y/n comes first.

“Jake I-” you started.

“Baby”. Jake pushes himself off the headboard, pulling your head under his chin. “Gotta stop apologizing for things you didn’t do doll— I wish I could put my hands on the man who hurt you”. Jake laces his fingers into yours-“You shouldn’t be sitting here questioning my love for you”. Your head hangs low, your ashamed of yourself for thinking so lowly of Jake.

You can’t help it, he you told all the sames things just the words were different from Jakes. Its only a matter of time until Jake comes home smelling different, till he pushes you away– he can’t stand the sight of you.

Somehow you didn’t realized Jake had changed his positions again, his fingers under your chin forcing you to look at him. You and him hold eachother gazes neither one of you knew what to say to the other, Jake unsure of what to say afraid he’ll accidentally hurt your feelings, he seen what a abusive man can do a woman. Your afraid that whatever words that leave your mouth will push Jake into the arms of woman better than you.

“Thank you Jake”. you whisper, tugging at the dangling thread hanging from the hem of your sleeve. You hate being so insecure, its going to drive Jake away. At one point he’s going to grow tired of reassuring you every two seconds, grow tired of the no sex. He going to get tired of you.

Jake running his hand through your hair again. “Y/n you don’t thank me for loving you. If anything I should be thanking you for letting me in”. He sighs-your looking straight in his eye, and his expression becomes unreadable.“I love you - Y/n L/n, there’s nothing I mean nothing that will ever stop me loving you”.

You blush at how sincere Jake sounds, “I—”. your brain practically shuts down once you realize what Jake saying.

Jake forces himself to not show how frustrated he is, he isn’t trying to make his girl feel uncomfortable. It just angers him to know she has trouble understanding what he saying. Jake wonders what else Y/n isn’t telling him about her ex-boyfriend. What else did he do?

“Sweetheart don’t say it till you comfortable, alright Y/n?. Sorry got carried away reassuring you that I’ll never leave despite that negative thoughts in your head”. It was Jake turn to blush, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

God what did you do to earn a man like that?

Choking back a sob, Jake Seresin is the opposite of the rumors attached to him. You attack him like a koala bear, wrapping your arms around his back — legs around his lower back. He doesn’t lash out at you for the need of physical touch.

He’s whispering god knows what, at some point your loud sobs become quieter and your just sniffling. “Lemme grab the glass water Y/n, M’not leaving ya sweetheart”. Jake southern accent thick with emotion, he leans over to the nightstand grabbing the tiny glass of water. Pressing it up to your lips, “Drink it sweetheart you need it”.

Handing Jake back the empty you see how badly your tears soaked his sweatshirt. You feel bad and of course he notices your upset expression. “Sweetheart its fine, If you must know the navy hands out like candy- its a gift for being the best pilot”. He smirking by the end of that sentence and so are you.

Jake takes his thumb and softly wipes away the single tear falling down your face.“I love you so much Jake Seresin and I’m not saying it just because”. Your running your hands through his short blonde hair.-“You make me feel so loved and no one done that in awhile. Your great fucking man Jake”. You two smile at eachother- “Kiss me Y/n”, he whispers-your lips crashing into his.

Your kissing him all over the neck, his cologne smells like heaven— it feels so nice to be content with life, to be loved.

[floralfloyd]

Only For Emergencies - J. Seresin

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: shivering

synopsis: You decide it's time to try and tame the beast, and you go to the one place where you know you'll be able to do it.

warnings: drug abuse, drug related death, cursing, mentions of death, detoxing, vomiting, mentions of relapse, mentions of parental death

word count: 2.9k

You weren’t sure how you got there, but someone must’ve called the police after Jake had left you on the cold concrete. You didn’t know that you had fallen asleep until you felt someone shaking you and you came face to face with a woman in a blue uniform. She had been nice and decided to not write you up if you promised to go to the drunk tank and sleep it off. You agreed, like normal. Sat in the back of the cop car, like normal. Smile at your favorite booker, like normal. Stretched out on your favorite bench, like normal. And in the morning, you gathered your belongings and left, like normal. 

You took the path home that would take you past the church that held NA. You didn’t go cause you were clean, you went for the irony of it. You sat in the back like a spectator, out of the circle where the sober ones lived, telling their harrowing stories of survival. There was one person, who had tried for the better part of two years to help you get on the straight and narrow. You swore you had enough 30-day chips to create a full year's worth. Duchess was probably old enough to be your grandmother, but she was a nice lady. She was a playboy model turned junkie like most of them are, but she found God and wanted to save the ‘youth of America’ as she said. 

But you didn’t need saving. 

You were fucking better than goddamn Clark Kent. 

You pulled the door to the old Methodist church open and walked the dim hallways that smelled of mildew and dust until you got to the sanctuary. You nearly moaned at the smell of fresh coffee and donuts. One of the only reasons you hadn’t been kicked away and told to come back when you really wanted to get clean was because of Duchess. She held out hope that something would change. She told you once that you still had that sparkle in your eye. You poured yourself some coffee, like normal. Grabbed a donut and a napkin, like normal. And took your spot in the back of the rows, like normal. 

Except, nothing was normal. 

You were expecting to hear Duchess’s thick southern accent. You were expecting to see that god-awful fur coat that she said was gifted to her by Heffner back in the 80s. You were expecting to hear the same story of how she moved to LA at 16 and was mesmerized by the disco lights and marijuana. You were expecting to be led into prayer by her, you mocking her accent as she recited the ‘Our Father’. This was your routine every Saturday morning. And who dares to fuck with your routine?

Who said addicts can’t be organized? 

But you were met with the sight of Paul standing in the middle of the circle, a grim look on his face. You hated Paul. He was some rich kid who had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant and killed all in the same month. He apologized, did maybe seven years, and got released with the promise that he’d get clean and never try to vote in the state of California. 

“I got word this morning that Duchess has passed away. The beast got her.” 

 You paled instantly at his words. It felt like sirens were going off in your head. 

Duchess. 

The woman who had found God. The woman who had turned her life around and spent her free time knitting clothes for her grandkids in El Paso. The woman who still held out hope for you when no one else did. 

Succumbed to the Beast. 

You couldn’t sit and listen anymore as Paul talked about how brave Duchess was and how inspiring her story had been. It was like the walls were closing in around you. It felt like the Beast had his claws dug into your soft flesh and was tearing you to pieces. Tears started to cloud your eyes as you stood up from your chair, dropped your coffee and donut on the ground, and ran out of the church. You felt lightheaded as you pushed the front doors open and took a deep breath of fresh air. 

But even out here in the open, you still felt like the Beast was on you. 

So you ran. 

Your legs were burning as you ran as fast as you could trying to escape from the Beast. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ran from anything or for any reason. Maybe high school track? Before you twisted your ankle. But even then it was no more than a light jog. Now you were in a full sprint. 

— — — 

Jake was sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the coffee mug you had made him for your third anniversary. It had pictures of the two of you on various dates and a handwritten ‘I Love You’ on it. You looked so much younger, lighter, and happier. It was crazy how fast the drugs and alcohol had aged you almost overnight. But to Jake, you still looked like the most beautiful thing in the world. 

He summed it up to that was the crazy part about loving an addict. He could look past the cracked skin, dry hair, dark eyes, and haunting frame. You were still the girl he loved. Still, that beautiful girl that he had met that day on the pier. 

For the first time in his life, Jake was not sure what to do anymore. He hated himself that everything had gotten this bad. He hated himself for leaving you when you clearly needed him more than you let on. But how was he supposed to know? You were good at hiding everything. He didn’t know about the drinking issues until he came home from work in the middle of the day and you were passed out on the couch. He didn’t know about the pill issue until he saw that you had refilled your dead father’s oxycodone prescription. He just didn’t know. 

The anger was filling up in his body again, as he stood up from the table and grabbed the empty mug again, ready to throw it at the wall. This has happened several times over the past couple of weeks. He’d pick you up from Jerry’s, take you home, listen to you berate him, come home, listen to a voicemail you had left, and pick up the empty mug, ready to break it to pieces. 

But he always stopped before he could do it. 

Why? He was not sure. 

Maybe because once he broke it, it would be broken forever. 

Jake sighed and set the mug down, plopping back into his seat. He held his head in his hands, pulling slightly on his hair as he tried to rack his brain for what to do. He had started to keep his ringer on at all times, in case the city morgue called to come pick your body out. 

A knock at the door had startled him out of his thoughts. Nobody knocked at his door. Not a single person. The dagger squad all knew Jake kept his door unlocked, a habit from living in small-town Texas, and they’d just walk right through. His heartbeat plummeted. 

This couldn’t be it. 

This could not be it. 

Slowly, Jake walked to the front door, and leaned his forehead against it, saying a small prayer and bracing himself for whatever news the police officers on the other side of the door were going to tell him.

You were dead. 

Overdosed right there on the sidewalk last night after he left you. 

Jake could already hear the words now. 

He took a deep breath and turned the doorknob slowly, bracing himself for the worst. 

“Y/N,” 

“I don’t wanna die,” You were shaking on his doorstep. Your eyes were red, but not red from getting high, but from tears. You were still in last night's clothing, your make-up was smeared a bit on your face. And you were panting like you had been running a million miles to get here. 

Jake opened his arms and you collapsed in them, sobs leaving your mouth. He held you tightly against his body, scared that the wind might blow you away. You had lost weight and it was even more noticeable as Jake ran his hand down your back, feeling the notches of your spinal cord. Your hair smelled of cigarettes and stale beer, but he could also smell the coffee rolling off of you, which meant that you had gone to another meeting. He pulled back first and looked at you. 

You knew what he was thinking. You had said these words before when you were going through a psychosis episode. But you were starting to sober up and there was a certain pounding in your head that was the most unpleasant thing you had felt in a long time. 

“I need help,” You admitted and it tasted worse than any drug you had put in your body, “I need help. I need help.” 

You kept repeating it like a broken record, tears and snot rolling down your face as you spoke. Jake nodded his head wordlessly and guided you into his house, your lips still muttering those three words. He sat you down on the couch and went to get you a glass of water. He didn’t know the first thing about helping an addict through withdrawals, except that it got messy. Jake quickly grabbed the loaf of bread from the cupboard and put down two pieces before going to give you the glass of water. 

You thanked him as you took it, and drank most of it down in one go. Your throat was dry partially from running here and partially from crying. Jake sat himself down on the coffee table in front of you, keeping enough distance between the two of you and the door. You glanced over at it, still hearing the beast outside of it, clawing at the red paint. You started to shake again and Jake’s head perked up. 

“A-are you cold?” He asked and you looked at him. 

“The beast is gonna get me,” You whispered. Jake just nodded, not wanting to make you even more paranoid. 

“How about you lie down?” Jake gestured to the couch. You looked like you maybe got an hour of sleep, “I’ll make sure the beast stays out. You take a nap and we can talk more when you wake up.” 

You nodded and Jake helped you lay down on his couch. He grabbed the blanket that rested on the back and tucked it around you. He gently caressed your head as you closed your eyes, feeling somewhat safe from the beast that awaited outside his door. Jake’s heart broke watching as you curled yourself in, trying to keep yourself safe from whatever tricks your mind was playing. 

For the rest of the night, Jake stayed by your side. During your awake bouts, which didn’t last more than an hour or so, Jake was able to get you to eat and have you drink some electrolytes. He had done research, doordashing groceries and things he was going to need while you detoxed. He also looked up local rehab facilities. It was the last thing he wanted to do, send you to some lockdown facility that he would only be able to have supervised-one hour visits with you on the weekends. You had sent your father to a place like that, and you swore it was the final straw in your relationship with him. 

Jake also managed to get you to talk about why the change of heart. You didn’t go into much detail, either because your brain couldn’t come up with it or you were too scared to open up. You told him about waking up in the drunk tank this morning and hearing about Duchess’ death. 

“It scared you, didn’t it?” Jake asked. Your eyes were fixed on the TV screen in front of you. The sound was off, so it was just the flashing images on the scene that was playing out. Your hands were wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, “Y/N,” He called out softly, placing a hand on your thigh, “It’s okay to be scared.” 

You blinked, looking over at Jake, “I’m not scared of anything,” You gave him a weak smile, “I’m fucking Clark Kent.” 

Day two had been the worst. You were now 48 hours drug and alcohol-free, and it was really starting to hit you. You woke up in a pool of your own sweat, calling out Jake’s name. He had set you up in his room, volunteering to take the guest bed. You had tried to protest, but he said that the room was bigger and had an attached bathroom. During his research he read that constipation and diarrhea were common in the detoxing stage, and wanted to give you privacy. In your delirium, you somehow managed to pull yourself out of bed and start walking down to the guest room. Jake was just starting to get out of bed, having heard you call out his name, when he heard a crash in the hallway. He ripped open the door and found you withering in pain on the floor. 

“Jesus Christ,” He mumbled and walked over to you. You were hot to the touch and your clothing was soaked in sweat, “C’mon, we gotta cool you down.” 

“No!” You slurred. 

You were nearly limp in his arms as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom. He laid you down on the ground, and started the shower, turning it on as cold as he could get it. You curled yourself into a ball, your stomach was hurting like it could explode any minute. Jake held his hand under the stream of water, watching you as you pulled yourself to your knees and crawled over to the trash can. He grimaced as you got sick, and looked up at the ceiling. He guessed this was the best thing that could happen so far. The drugs were finally starting to leave your system. 

Once Jake determined the water was set to a good enough temp, he walked over to you, gently lifting your body up. You had vomit on the collar of your shirt, as Jake pulled it up and over your head. You felt weightless as Jake picked you up and walked over to the shower. Jake didn’t even think twice as he stepped into the shower, lowering himself down on the floor, still in his pajamas and placing you in between his legs. You instantly curled up against him, trying to get away from the cold stream of water, wanting to savor the warmth of his body. 

Jake hadn’t really got a good look at you before, seeing as you mainly dressed in baggy clothing. But now, as you sat in his arms shivering, he could see the bruises and the bones that were sticking out of your colorless skin. Your hair was greasy, telling Jake that it had been a while since you had last washed it. It was nothing like the well put together woman he had met all those years ago. That woman would be so embarrassed of the girl sitting on the shower floor.

“I’m gonna die,” You sobbed against his chest. 

Jake normally would grimace at the feeling of tears and snot dampening his shirt, but he didn’t even flinch as he held you tightly on the floor of his shower. You were starting to shake as the lukewarm water was breaking your fever. He held you tightly until your sobs turned to sniffles, and your shakes turned to small trembles. 

“You are not going to die,” Jake said, resting his chin on top of your head, “This is the suck, and you just gotta embrace it. When the toxins are out, you will feel better. It’ll take some time till it’s all out, but it’ll all be out.” 

You nodded, “How did you know what to do?” Your hands found the chain of his dog tags, twirling the metal around your fingers. 

“I watched you do it to your dad,” Jake muttered, “I think it was one of the last times he promised to get on the straight and narrow,” Jake scoffed, “I wanted so badly to tell you to just give him up. Let him kill himself, but you. . . you just would not quit. You’re stubborn, too stubborn for your own good.” 

You nodded your head again, your eyelids feeling heavy. Jake waited a couple more minutes, before reaching up and turning the water off. He gently slid out from behind you, grabbing a towel and quickly drying off, before pulling you from the shower. He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, grabbing a new dry towel and his fluffy white bathrobe. 

“Are you okay if I-” He gestured towards the towel in his hand. 

“You just saw me throw up on my shirt,” You answered, looking up at Jake, “You can dry me off. Please, I’m cold now.” 

Jake nodded his head, kneeling down in front of you and carefully, drying you off. You appreciated the gentleness of his touch, as he dried your body. You let him undress you, sliding the sopping wet undergarments off of your body and slipping the white fluffy robe on in their place. Jake then carried you back down to his bedroom, against your pitiful protests. He took his time, fluffing the pillows and tucking you into the ultrasoft sheets. He sat by your side, running his hand over your hair, something he used to do on the nights you’d come home after taking care of your dad, until your eyelids fluttered shut. 

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake muttered to you, “We’re gonna tame the beast.”

note: part 3???? sike

taglist: @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @sio-ina-bottle @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @badasspizzalover @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant @senawashere @bradshawsprincess @alwayshave-faith @smoothdogsgirl @4everademigod

taglist form

[floralfloyd]

LITTLE RASCAL

summary: the local elementary school is invited to take a tour of the base and one of the little rascals gives away Jake’s biggest secret within seconds

paring: dad!Jake Seresin x (mentioned)mom!reader

Word count: 0.5k

“I want you all on your best behavior. No goofing off,” Maverick reminds the group in front of him, making him feel like he is talking to a classroom full of children instead of grown adults.

He points to Hangman and Rooster, “I’m looking at you two. Don’t go embarrassing me in front of a bunch of third graders. You are to set an example for these kids, am I clean?”

“Yes sir.” They all answer some more happily than others.

Maverick had been repeating the same speech over and over for the past week to get his point across.

Today the local elementary school's third grade was coming on base for a tour to see all the cool planes and understand what it is that they do (the kid friendly version).

To everyone’s surprise, Jake was the most excited out of the whole bunch.

Soon enough a bright yellow school bus loaded with children made it past the base's gates, stopping right in front of the group of pilots.

One by one the kids filled out of the vehicle, all too fascinated with their surroundings to listen to the teachers instructions to stay near the bus.

Suddenly the little blonde that Jake had been keeping an eye out for made herself known. Spitting from the group she charged at Jake, shouting for her daddy.

Out of habit he crouched down, opening his arms wide for his baby girl to throw herself into them. At this moment he couldn’t care less about the other daggers' shocked and confused faces.

“Bagman has a kid?”

“She’s gotta be like eight or nine, right?”

“We would have known if he had a daughter.”

“Totally.”

Jake chuckles at them all whispering to Charlotte, “you ratted me out, you little rascal.”

“Whoops.”

“Whoops is right.” Jake stood up. when he looked around all his teammates were looking him up and down for an explanation and since the little girl just threw him under the bus- “guys, this is my daughter Charlotte.”

now realizing all their attention was on her, Charlotte cowered behind Jake’s leg clinging onto his uniform.

“Holy shit.”

“It’s okay, Lottie,” Jake assures her.

Maverick went over the agenda for the day with the class of third graders and had his crew aviators introduce themselves. The whole time Charlotte stayed by her dads side. When it was finally his turn to introduce himself, Jake introduced himself as her dad.

All the kids' reactions were positive, lots of ’wow’s and ’cool’s were thrown around. Though most memorable reactions to the group were;

“No fair, how come Lottie has two cool parents.”

“Two cool parents? No way, Lottie’s dad is way cooler.”

“No! Mrs Seresin is cooler.”

“No way, her dad flies planes.”

“Just wait until your mother hears about this,” Jake chuckles to his daughter, ready to brag to that some of Lottie’s friends thought he was cooler than you.

“He’s married too, what the fuck.”

“Rooster, what did I say,” Maverick scolds him as the other kids look up at rooster with wide eyes.

“Daddy, the chicken swore.”

Rooster head snapped to Jake, “Bagman, did you train your spawn to call me that!”

[floralfloyd]

could i request jake and meet cute 30 or 38?

I went with 30! Thank you!

"You need to get laid.”

Jessica’s words almost made you choke on your drink. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering how much she and the rest of the group talked about tonight being the night to find a hot guy to take home.

“I hope they play Hot to Go,” you stated, ignoring her statement.

She playful shook your shoulder, “C’mon! We all agree it’s time you get back out there! And what better place to do so than here?”

Jessica motioned to the rest of the bar, which was currently full of men and women in uniforms.

“Just because y’all have a uniform kink, doesn’t mean I do too,” you retorted, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“Hey, the uniform shows they can make a commitment and they have a steady job. That’s a rarity in itself,” Leah remarked, “Plus, Jess is right. What was the last time you tried speaking to someone?”

You didn’t respond, due to the answer being embarrassing. It had been close to a year since your last break up. Every time the prospect of dating was brought up, you were able to counter it with an excuse. Work is too busy. I have a lot going on. I need time for myself. I want to focus on myself.

“Even if you get their number, you don’t have to text them,” Rosa jumped in, sensing your uneasiness, “It’s more so about putting yourself out there, getting back into the swing of things.”

“Besides, there are so many!” Jess exclaimed, “Like look at….oh wait, nevermind. Guy in glasses is totally Leah’s type. Well then there’s……oh he’s cute too. That one is mine, okay?”

Leah elbowed Jess, bringing her back down to Earth, “We can even help you! If you want,” your more sensible friend offered.

“Yes! We’d love to help you!” Jess grabbed your hand, squeezing it as if to contain her excitement.

“If you want,” Rosa added.

“That’s very nice of y’all. But not tonight, okay?” You hoped your firm statement would deter them from any shenanigans.

It did not.

Jessica was literally dragging guys over to the table to talk to you. Rosa was pulling the “haaaave ya met my friend?” card. The only person who seemed to be having a good time was Leah, who was currently sharing a cup of peanuts with the birth control goggles wearing aviator.

Y’all were going to get kicked out of this bar.

Just one number!

Their words rang in your ears. After Jessica brought over what had to be the sixth pilot, you knew you couldn’t take much more. So without warning, you stood up and darted to the bar, leaving Jessica and whatever his name was.

Just one number. You didn’t even have to flirt, you could explain the situation and get a fake number. That would shut your friends up and you wouldn’t have to text the guy back. A win-win situation for all.

There was a wait at the bar, which gave you the perfect amount of time to scope out someone who would take pity on you.

Then you heard Jessica call your name from across the bar. You had to get this over with quickly.

Tapping on the shoulder of the nearest man, you prayed for sweet relief.

Aw fuck, he was hot.

Of course you picked the reincarnation of Adonis, with his chiseled face and broad chest. The short sleeves of his uniform showed off his strong arms, tying in perfectly with his coiffed blonde hair and stunning green eyes. When he cleared his throat, you were reminded that you had tapped him on the shoulder and this beautiful man was expecting you to speak.

“I'm so sorry, but my friends won't stop bothering me until I get someone's number tonight, it doesn't have to be your real one, I'm just so tired of their shenanigans,” you confessed, motioning towards your group of friends who were now watching you from their table.

“Again, it doesn’t have to be your actual number, I just need-”

“Shouldn’t we make it believable?” There was a twang with his words, revealing a Southern upbringing.

Of course he had a cute accent too. The universe really wanted you to suffer tonight. And of course, all you could do was let out a squeak of confusion.

“So your friends believe it?” He explained, his lips forming into a dangerously charming smirk, “Also, I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to ya ever since you walked through the door."

“I….I don’t know your name,” was the only thing you could get out. Christ, you were stupid.

He chuckled, though it wasn't malicious, “I'm Jake. Can I buy you a drink before giving you my number?”

"You....actually want my number?" You were in disbelief. There was no fucking way. The universe must be playing a trick on you.

Jake nodded, the smile remaining on his face, "Have wanted it since I heard ya laugh."

Maybe tonight would turn out perfectly fine after all.

[floralfloyd]

Didn't Know Then What I Know Now - Part 3 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: With the help of the Dagger Squad, Jake sends you on a personal scavenger hunt. He’s sure you’ll love the idea, and then you’ll have to forgive him. Right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, fluff, 

W/C: 4.8k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. Small Parts/Mentioned: The rest of Dagger Squad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and Penny Benjamin. 

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote.

Challenge/Bingo: Prompt/Square Filled:

Notes: Reader has a call sign. 

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch - thanks for saving the smut section 😄 // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

The first available flight will get you home only a few hours earlier than you would have before, but you no longer care that your credit card will be taking a massive hit for this weekend. This added expense is worth every penny. The thought of sitting next to Jake the entire flight home is too much to bear.

Seething anger rolls through you in waves the whole journey home, and you can’t bear to face the Daggers, knowing they know more than they should.

You go directly to see Captain Mitchell, suitcase and bags in tow, and request a change in assignment. 

“Take a couple of days,” Maverick suggests, “think about it.”

“All due respect, Captain, there’s nothing to think about,” you counter. “We are all aware Lieutenant Seresin isn’t the easiest person to work with, and I feel I’ve served my time.”

“That may be so,” he nods, “but you are a good team, whether you like it or not.”

You can’t argue that because it’s a fact you are aware of.

“Put the request in writing,” Mav tells you, “I’ll see what I can do.”

You thank him and lug your bags back out the door, kicking the wheel to get it to go in the right direction. You don’t look up until you crash into someone. Phoenix, accompanied by Coyote.

Perfect. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, carrying on your way. 

“Wait, Cosmo,” Natasha says, catching up to you. “Why are you back so soon? Your flight doesn’t get in until later. What happened?”

“Exactly what I thought would happen,” you say, “and I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh, Cosmo,” Phoenix sighs, knowing exactly what your fears had been.

“Don’t,” you say, holding a hand up to silence her. “I don’t want your pity.”

Coyote senses the hostility in your tone and changes the subject. “What were you doing with Mav?”

“Requesting a reassignment,” you say. There’s no point in hiding it. They’ll find out eventually. 

“But,” Phoenix starts, doing the mental math. “The only other person to fly with would be Harvard.”

You shrug, “So be it. I gotta go unpack and shower.”

“Wait,” Phoenix says, rushing to stand in your path. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you snap, “least of all to you.” 

The hurt on her face breaks your heart a little, but you’re hurting too. You want to take it back, but the more she looks offended, the more you remember this is partly her fault, and Coyote’s, for that matter. They both stuck their noses in your business when it wasn’t needed or wanted. 

“All this,” you wave your arms as wide as you can with your bag, “is down to you two. Jake and I were fine the way we were, but you two had to meddle.” 

Coyote pleads, “Cos, we were just…” but you cut him off, holding your hand up. 

“Save it,” you growl. Coyote shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you turn an accusatory finger at Phoenix. “You knew,” you accuse, “you knew how I felt, all my reservations, all the ways I thought it would go wrong, and you still set me up!” 

“I didn’t think anything bad would happen,” Phoenix defends, “Javy told me how much Jake likes you, and I knew how much you like Jake and how conflicted you were about it all. But I thought if you could just have some time together… so I nudged you in the right direction. I thought I was helping you out, being a good friend.”

You scoff, aggravated, and hurt. “Well, maybe you’re not a good friend.”

“Hey,” Coyote chastises, “don’t put this on her. We all played a part.”

“Yeah, you did,” you sigh, tears filling your eyes and tingling the end of your nose. “Because, like I always suspected, you're more Jake’s friends than mine.”

You don’t give them time to respond by walking away.

Jake hopes you’ve checked into another room or a different hotel. He repeatedly called, but you rejected every one of them.

He leaves one voicemail but doubts you’ll listen to it. “Cosmo, please. Don’t shut me out. I know what it looked like, but I promise I can explain.” 

On the way to the airport, he prays you're still on the same flight. A few hours of being unable to escape would be enough time to explain himself. He starts to lose hope when he checks out and finds that half of the room service bill has been paid. He finally admits defeat when he doesn’t see you in the seating area near the gate.

Still, when the flight is delayed, he roams the airport, searching for you. His search proves futile, but he continues to check the boarding queue as he shuffles forward with the other passengers. 

He bounces his leg the entire flight like it will magically make the plane go faster. The only good thing about the empty seat—your seat—between him and the other passenger is that it probably keeps him from being punched for the annoyance.

He’s exhausted by the time they land, and the cab ride from the airport to his house is deafeningly silent. Finally, as the car pulls away from the curb, he gives in and messages Phoenix. 

<Hangman: I know I’m probably outside your good graces, but at least tell me she’s home and okay.

>Phoenix: She’s home. And you’re not on my shit list. I’m on hers. 

He begins typing a reply to question that bit of information, but a message from Coyote interrupts him. 

>Coyote: If you define ‘okay’ as requesting to be reassigned, then yeah, she’s great!👍🏻

The sarcasm seems unnecessary, but he ignores it. There’s a bigger battle to be fought.

>Coyote: What happened man? One minute you were gonna tell her you liked her and the next she’s getting reassigned. 

<Hangman: Just a bit of miscommunication and if I could get her to talk to me I could explain it.  

He needs to do something. Calling isn’t working, and he knows if he shows up at your door, you’ll likely slam it in his face. Besides, this is bigger than an apology. 

<Hangman: I’m gonna need your help.

>Coyote: name it. 

The following morning, you wake early and wash off the residual anger in a hot shower. By the time you're ready to face the day, the outrage has subsided, and you’re left feeling foolish, humiliated, and a little betrayed. Despite your reservations about Jake, you trust him. He’d never done anything to make you believe you shouldn’t - until now.

You shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been witness to and on the receiving end of many of his sexual encounter stories. He’s not someone to keep intimate secrets.

“Urgh, stop!” you berate your reflection in your bedroom mirror. You need to stop thinking about it. Going over it repeatedly in your mind isn’t helping. 

Some retail therapy and blasting your favorite music on the drive to the mall will help. You dress in jeans and a nice shirt, put on your jewelry and then spritz yourself with perfume. 

It brings tears to your eyes. Jake bought you a bottle, and now you won’t be able to smell it without thinking about him. “Fuck!”

You hear the squeak of the door opening, and shortly after, Phoenix sings, “Honey, I’m home.”

It’s an olive branch to let you know she’s disregarding yesterday’s outburst. She understands you didn’t mean it, and don’t blame her for anything. You know you were becoming insufferable when it came to your assigned pilot, and Natasha was always on the receiving end of it. 

“Glad you’re back,” You smile, jogging down the stairs. 

“Woo, where’s the fire?” she asks, kissing your cheek when you reach the bottom step.

“At the mall,” you say, “I need to find a new perfume I like.” 

“So you forgot,” brow raised high, she reminds you. “Tuesdays are jogging and bagels?”

It’s usually more bagels than jogging but you don’t mention it because you had forgotten. Stupid Hangman, messing with your head. “Shit, sorry. I did forget, but a run might help clear my head. Give me five minutes to change?”

She waves off your apology. “Nah, it’s fine. Let’s skip it. I drank way too much last night. The last thing I wanna be doing is running around in the heat.”

You laugh, remembering that yesterday was the last Monday of the month, which meant, “Karaoke night?”

“Karaoke night,” Phoenix confirms with a firm nod and regretful sigh.

Of course, the Daggers can’t make it a normal sing-a-long. Someone, you don’t remember who, bought a decibel meter. Whoever gets the least applause after a song has to do a shot and a song of the squad’s choosing. Of course, Rooster is always the sober one. Maybe it was him who bought the meter.

“If you wanna join me, I’ll treat you to a breakfast burrito on the way,” You offer.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Yessss!”

Natasha insists on driving, and as you get into the car, she tells you that she left her wallet in her dorm, and ‘just in case’ Apple Pay doesn’t work, she needs to pick it up before going shopping. You offer to spot her, and she can pay you back later, but she refuses. 

The radio is playing quietly, and it’s a pleasant ride with not a lot of traffic, but when Nat leans in and turns off the radio, you know the pleasantness is over. 

“Ready to talk about it?” she asks. 

No. 

But now is as good a time as any, and it’s rare these days to get her alone without Javy nearby eavesdropping.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t already know,” you sigh. 

“I know Jake’s side of it,” she admits, “but I wanna hear your side.” 

“I made a fool of myself. I thought Jake would be different with me, but I was wrong. Plain and simple.”

“It’s not plain and simple, Cos. You asked to be reassigned. That’s not nothing, so tell me what happened, specifics.”

You explain everything. The weekend arrangement, the promise to not let it affect work or to tell anyone. Crashing the wedding, the gifts, the pillow talk. 

“I can’t explain how he made me feel,” you exhale sadly, allowing yourself a moment to reign in your emotions. “From the moment he touched me, it was like the world didn’t exist. The things he did to me, wow.” Your eyes widen to emphasize the WOW because you really don’t think she gets it. “He made my body react in ways I never knew it could.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Nat offers, “you don’t get an ego the size of Hangman’s by being mediocre in bed.” Quickly adding, “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”

You mimic locking your lips and throwing the key out the window. “But confirmed. There is nothing mediocre about him.” You laugh, but the jesting tone is short-lived. “I caught him staring at me a couple of times, and the way he was looking at me… It was… I don’t know, but I swear my heart skipped a beat.”

Phoenix huffs a knowing chuckle. “The small moments that are really the big moments.” 

“Exactly! He asked me to stay a few more nights, and I thought it might have been to… Urgh,” you growl, sick of trying to analyze Jake’s thoughts and feelings. “It doesn’t even matter. I was an idiot to believe it would be anything but a fun memory to recall when my serotonin was low. He couldn’t even respect my privacy. He had to go shoot his mouth off to Coyote.”

“He didn’t,” Phoenix explains. The defense of Jake is so surprising you stare open-mouthed at her as she gives your ID badges to the gate staff. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s probably something in all you said that we can hate him for, but if all this is a reaction to him talking to Coyote, you’ve got it wrong.” 

“What?”

“He wasn’t bragging about sleeping with you,” Natasha explains, “He was asking for advice.”

“Advice about what?” 

She shakes her head, “That’s for Jake to tell you. I get why you jumped to the conclusion that you did. I’d have done the same ‘cause, let’s face it, it’s Hangman we’re talking about. But, and I hate to say this, in Jake’s defense, you overreacted, and if you had let him explain, you wouldn’t be feeling foolish.” 

“So what? You’re saying I owe Jake an apology?”

“I’m saying you should at least speak to him.”

You momentarily impersonate a fish, opening and closing your mouth while trying to understand everything she’s said. 

“But later,” Nat continues, “I need breakfast.”

Natasha drags you along the corridor, tugging on your hand while your eyes dart around, peeking into windows of closed doors, hoping Jake isn’t back on base yet because you aren’t ready to face him. You haven’t quite digested Natasha’s revelation. You need more time. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet for the whole twenty seconds she’s gone, jumping at the slightest sound, expecting Jake to stalk around the corner like some serial killer.  

Natasha emerges from her room, waving her wallet. She takes your hand again, which stops you from rushing away like the scared victim of a horror movie. “Do you trust me?”

You eye her suspiciously, and your stomach drops when she winces, preempting your less-than-happy reaction. “Jake was the last person to ask me that, Nat, and look where that got me.”

“I know,” she says, “but you know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought could potentially hurt you.”

“Natasha Trace, I swear to the all-mighty God Icarus, if Jake is about to walk around that corner, I’ll make you feel like you flew too close to the sun.” 

She holds her hands up, palms out, full surrender. “I swear he’s not here, and you don’t have to talk to him.”

“Can we just go shopping?” You whine but refrain from actually stomping your foot. “Forget Jake, forget men exist for a few hours, and definitely forget setting me up again ‘cause it worked out so well the last time.”

Phoenix shakes her head, “Sorry. No. The whole Coyote text thing at the hotel is a complete misunderstanding, and if I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Fine,” you practically growl. Forcing an overly enthusiastic smile, you say, “Curtains up on this shit show!”

“The show must go on,” She laughs but pulls you along as she makes her way to the mess hall.

Javy is in position, and Jake has a perfect view of the mess hall doors. Now, he just has to wait. He doesn’t doubt Natasha’s powers of persuasion, but he does doubt your willingness to allow her to set you up again. You’ll have figured it out. You won’t be fooled twice.

The phone is jostled, and then Javy’s face fills the screen. “My arm hurts,” he complains.

“Suck it up,” Jake says.

“How long before she arrives?”

“Are you questioning your girlfriend's ability to get someone to do what she wants? I’m telling Nat you doubted her skills.”

“Don’t you dare,” Javy points into the phone. “If anyone can convince Cosmo to give you a chance, it’s Phoenix.”

“So suck it up and turn me around.”

He does so barely in the nick of time. When the phone stops jiggling and focuses, the door opens, and Phoenix literally drags you through the entrance. You spot Javy first, and when you see him holding his phone out and Jake on the line, you begin shaking your head as Phoenix draws you closer. 

“He’s not here,” you sneer at Nat. “Nice deception.”

“Wasn’t lying,” she sings, kissing Javy’s cheek.

You sigh heavily, and Jake can tell from your expression you’re already over this whole thing. You aren’t going to stick around long, and he knows he’s running out of time.

“This is the first place we met,” Jake begins. “I remember it was a Thursday. You were talking to Harvard. I clocked you the second I walked in. I interrupted, and you rolled your eyes before I even said a word. ‘Hangman, I presume.’ That was the first thing you said to me. You didn’t even give me a chance to reply, ‘I’m Cosmo, your new WSO, and if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go somewhere else so you can’t hit on me.’ I was shocked and intrigued,” he chuckles fondly at the memory. “That was when I knew I’d do everything possible to ensure we were friends.  And yes, I was hoping for more than friends. But I didn’t know then what I know now…” 

There’s no opportunity for you to react before Coyote ends the call, as instructed.

Jake blasts out a relieved breath. You didn’t turn away and ignore him, so that was a good start. Now for part two…

Finally, you’re en route to get your breakfast burrito. You ask the loved-up couple what it is that Jake didn’t know, but they both smile smugly and, as if they had practiced, in scary synchronization, tell you - “all in good time.”

You don’t have the mental capacity for games, so you let it go after Coyote promises the breakfast burritos are on him to apologize for the text misunderstanding. Though he still hasn’t explained what exactly you misunderstood.

The all-night diner always has customers. It’s the place the locals flock to for the coffee and chilled atmosphere. But at eleven on a Tuesday, only a few people sit in the booths near the windows. Natasha enters first, Javy covering your six and you're suspicious that it could be to block your exit because Jake is waiting for you.

It’s not Jake, though. It’s Bradley - floral pattern shirt over his white tank, aviators tucked in his collar, and that boyish smile with a hint of an apology. He gives a small wave, then turns his phone, holding it up to your eye level to show you Jake again on a video call. 

Jake is smiling, but you see his chest puff with a deep inhale. You wonder if he’s nervous because your friends are listening or he fears your rejection, maybe both. With a soft exhale, he begins, “This is where we came to escape Rooster’s awful murder mystery night.” 

“Hey!” Bradley complains.

You grimace. “Sorry, Rooster.”

“No, it’s fair,” Bradley shrugs, “it was pretty bad.”

Jake chuckles but continues, “You picked Fanboy to partner up with, and I was so damn jealous. I got stuck with Harvard, but after an hour, you convinced me to ditch it all, and we snuck off here. We spent the whole night talking. We never came up for air, we just kept swapping stories and getting to know each other. I told you about my family’s ranch back home, and you said you’d love to see it.” 

“I remember,” you say, half smiling. 

His smile grows. “For months after, I kept trying to work out how to make it happen. I spent most of my time daydreaming about introducing you to my family, but I didn’t want to do it as my coworker or friend.” he pauses and sighs, “I think I had some idea then, but I still didn’t know what I know now…”

Rooster turns the phone and ends the call.

So this is it, you realize, this is your grand gesture. This is the moment in your story where you get the big speech and happy ending. But maybe you shouldn’t let your hope get the better of you. 

You roll your eyes. “I swear if what he knows now is some sexual innuendo or anything shy of I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, you’re all in big trouble!” 

They all laugh, and you try to hide your smile, but it’s not easy. 

“You still owe me a burrito, Javy.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks and walks to the counter.

You sit at the usual table the Daggers have adopted as their own. You don’t want to be that annoying person who fishes for information because A, you know they won’t tell you, and B, you need to be in the moment and enjoy it, so instead, you ask for a rundown of Karaoke night.

Bradley animatedly tells you about each of the Dagger’s very unsuccessful attempts to beat his record as Javy brings the food over. Seven burritos are stacked high on the serving tray, and before you can ask who the extra ones are for, you feel a hand on your back.

Mickey is smiling down at you, holding a single red rose. “This is an apology for the Laura incident,” he says, handing you the flower and dipping to kiss your cheek. 

Reuben follows, doing exactly the same but stating, “This is an apology for the Nicole incident.”

Finally, Bob follows suit and explains, “This is an apology for the Kate incident.”

You laugh to hide the well of emotion that brings tears to your eyes. Jake is genuinely taking this seriously, and for all he knows, you might not be on the same page. He’s taking a considerable risk. 

“So you’re all involved,” you say. 

“Yep,” Fanboy says, sitting across from you. 

“And just like Jake said,” Payback smirks, “we can see how much you hate that we know what’s going on and you don’t.”

Immaturely, you sneer mockingly at him, “Ooo, you all know a secret,” you say, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. But despite the jests and your outward irritation, something a lot like affection blooms in your chest as you realize how well Jake knows you. 

Apparently, Natasha is helping with whatever is happening next because as she quickly swallows the last bite of her breakfast, she announces she has to ‘run an errand’ and leaves you in the capable hands of the guys.

You ride with Javy in his 1968 Chevy C10, realizing the next part of this scheme must be a big deal because he only brings out the deep red glossed vehicle for special occasions.  Bradley follows in the Bronco with Bob, Mickey, and Reuben, and you honestly have no idea where you're headed or why everyone is tagging along. 

The drive takes you out of the city. Desert and cacti are the only scenery for a while. The conversation is light, Javy mostly being a fanboy over Natasha, and it’s beautiful and endearing to hear how he talks about her. He’s completely besotted. 

You see the small cluster of hangers up ahead, and you know that's your destination before Javy pulls off the road and makes his way to the furthest hanger.

“Why is this a team outing?” you ask as he drives across the airfield. 

“It doesn’t need to be,” Coyote laughs. “But if all goes to plan, Bob agreed to drive Jake’s car back to town. And if it doesn’t, the others…well, they’re here to watch Jake burn-in.”

“So Jake’s here?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Javy nods, pulling into a hanger beside an old P-51 Mustang. 

“Mav’s?” you ask. 

“You know it,” he smiles, shuts off the engine, and turns to face you. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll drive you out of here right now. Take you wherever you wanna go. But Jake is my boy, and I’ll be the first to admit he’s got a shitty track record.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “But I promise, he’s different when it comes to you and deserves a chance to show you.”

You inhale deeply, holding it in for a loaded pause. “Okay,” you exhale, “but get the guys out of here. I don’t want an audience.” 

“Done.”

Coyote hops out of the car, and slowly you follow. The guys grumble at being ushered away while you walk around the plane admiring the pristine condition, wondering how Maverick keeps it up with everything else he has going on.

Your step falters as you round the front of the plane. Jake is standing a few feet away, one hand behind his back with a bashful smile.

“I hear I owe you an apology,” you say.

“We both made some mistakes,” he shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you sigh. “I should have listened to you or at least given you the chance to explain yourself. I truly am sorry.” 

He strides toward you, a man with a purpose, and cups your cheek with one hand. He draws you to him as he dips to kiss you softly. It’s short but tender, and he pulls away, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “But I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me do that again, and I needed to…” 

You cut him off with a searing kiss, deepening it with a swipe of your tongue and a hand around the back of his neck.

Way too soon, he mumbles, “Wait, wait,” against your mouth.

Reluctantly, you release him, taking a half step back to be able to see him better.

“I have this whole thing planned out, and you're ruining it,” he admonishes playfully. 

You chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll stop kissing you.” 

“Please,” he says, nodding, then quickly correcting himself, “but only for a minute or two.” He sweetly pecks your lips and pulls a single red rose from behind his back. 

You accept, bringing it to your nose to inhale the sickly sweet aroma. “So, who’s this an apology for?”

“Not a who,” he says. “It’s an apology for me breaking the rules and going about this all wrong. When I suggested a weekend pass and promised it wouldn’t affect our work, I didn’t know what I know now.”

“Which is?” 

“I know now that a weekend with you will never be enough. I know that at the time, I was willing to take whatever I could get. I wanted you in any way I could have you, and in true Hangman style, I didn’t think, or maybe care, about the aftermath.”

“Neither of us did,” you admit. You had thought about the consequences, but the idea of being with Jake, even for the briefest time, outweighed the negatives. 

“I know now that I don’t want you for a weekend, Cosmo, and I don’t want you to be a secret I have to keep. I want to tell the world you’re mine, and I’m yours. I want you as more than a friend and colleague. I want to be with you for a lifetime or as long as you’ll put up with me.”

You smile, “a lifetime sounds like a good place to start.”

He snatches the flower from your hands, throwing it over your shoulder before grabbing your waist and tugging you into him. “Can I kiss you now?” you jest.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Butterflies do cartwheels in your stomach, his hands hold you tightly, and every brush of your tongues feels like a promise for the future.

Jake groans, and you melt into him. An approaching car engine is ambient noise until applause and wolf whistles drown it out. Jake doesn’t release you until Coyote slaps him on the back.

Natasha steps out of the car, smiling happily, and Javy greets her with a sweet kiss.

“You missed it,” you tell her as she approaches. 

“Didn’t miss a thing,” she smirks, shaking her phone and showing you she’s connected to a video call with Javy. 

You should have guessed. You yank her into a too-tight hug, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head. “But you might not want to thank me yet.”

She walks back to the car and around to the trunk, where she pulls out a suitcase that Javy kindly takes from her and carries over to Jake. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, suspiciously. 

“I wanted more time with you at the hotel,” Jake explains. “I wasn’t ready for it to end, and I hate that it ended the way it did so,” he draws the word out, a hint of nerves in his tone. He slaps the front of the plane before flinching immediately. It takes half a second to realize that Mav is probably watching from somewhere - or at the very least, Jake can hear your commanding officer chewing him out for the inappropriate treatment of his aircraft. “What do you say to a week on my family’s ranch?”

The fact that you're standing beside Maverick’s P-51 means he’s already got the leave approved.

“I say,” you pause, keeping your face neutral just to mess with Jake a little longer. “Take me away, Cowboy.”

Jake’s smile beams brighter than you’ve ever seen. “My family are gonna love you.” 

End.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

Tags + Info

@alexxavicry / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess 

/ @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / 

@writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @genius2025

 @kmc1989 / @alipap3 / @emorychase

[floralfloyd]

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.  

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass.  A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission.  “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[floralfloyd]

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑺' 𝑬𝑽𝑬

summary - a witch and he-man... what an interesting pairing. (aka, jake is taking his niece trick or treating around his building and can't help knocking on your door.)

pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader

word count - 2.3k

rating - no smut, but 18+ anyways, mdni!

content warnings & tags - age gap (reader is in her early twenties, jake is thirty) / reader and jake are neighbors / no use of (y/n) / flirting / pre-relationship / fluff / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: anyways, i'm going to post this then go to a halloween party! hopefully i'll get a little tipsy and meet my own jake. here's a link if you don't know what he-man looks like. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Jake isn’t one to hesitate, certainly not in the sky and rarely on the ground. At least that's the story he's been telling himself until the sight of, 8F, your door numbers, have his knuckles pausing just before contact. Now, he’s reevaluating.

You're the one door that he's been simultaneously dreading and anticipating, the feeling swirling into an unidentifiable pit in his stomach.

It's early in the evening, and even though he definitely saw your apartment number on the signup sheet for the building's trick-or-treating, he's not entirely sure if you'll even be home. It is Halloween, and you're young, younger than him by probably a few years; there’s probably some big Halloween party that runs until dawn breaks that you're attending.

There's been plenty of nights where he's getting home from the Hard Deck to crash, having had probably one beer too many at his age, and your night is only just starting. Some skin-tight number riding up your thighs as you pass by him with a pretty smile that has his head turning. His drunken attention captured, eyes following you down the hall.

He's holding onto the hope that you're out as he knocks, hoping that you're not about to see him dressed up in this ugly little wig and red tighty-whities. Why didn't they give him a far more dressed reboot?

His hope is dashed as the door swings open, revealing your pretty face. 

You’re dressed as a witch, sort of. Really, you're just wearing a short black dress, a pointy hat, and matte red lipstick. Fairly minimal effort. But you look great and Jake is wearing a yellow wig that's basically a bowl cut, so...

Your eyes drag up Jake’s form, not entirely shy about checking him out in return, his heart picking up at the look there. Arms crossed, you lazily rest your upper body on the door jam with a charming smile. There’s a tease in your voice as you say, “Cute. Though aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?”

Quickly, he nudges his seven-year-old niece, Mia, out from where she’s shuffled behind his legs, shielding herself from view. Her winged gold She-Ra crown knocks slightly askew as she moves. 

She's shy in a way that Jake and his siblings were not at her age. His parents had to deal with three entirely fearless, entirely stupid children—an entirely different beast. His sister is hoping that trick-or-treating through his apartment building, a controlled foray into interacting with strangers will instill a little confidence in her. Her grip on his hand tightens as your gaze bounces down to her.

You straighten up, coyness softening into a genuinely kind, kid-friendly look. You glance back at him, a sympathetic pinch to your brow.

“My niece, Mia,” he unnecessarily clarifies. He’s sure his whole life screams bachelor to any woman looking. 

He thinks you have been. Flirty exchanges at the mailboxes, and dragging looks in the elevators, arms brushing as you lean on the back wall, standing closer than necessary as you exchange lingering small talk.

The lights in your apartment are low. Your living room is far enough down the hall that it’s blocked from view, but the wall behind you is illuminated by your TV screen, an unchanging blue glow. 

A young girl, probably only a year or two older than Mia, skids into the hallway, sliding in on her socks. She’s dressed as a black cat, with a little tail and ears, and feline-like face paint.

You turn to look at her. Her painted-on whiskers move as she asks you, “Can we play the movie?”

Your brow scrunches. Biting your lip, you hold up a finger to her, "One sec." You turn back to him. "My brother and sister and their kids are over. We're gonna watch Coraline. Would you and Mia wanna watch with us?"

He looks down at his niece. She seems apprehensive at the idea, her lips pressed tightly together as she looks up at you. He lightly tugs her hand, pulling her attention. Her eyes come back to him.

He gently inquires, "Do you wanna go watch a movie?"

She hesitates, and he's about to take that as a no when you drop into a crouch so you’re eye to eye with Mia. You lean in conspiratorially, briefly looking over your shoulder. "You know, Abby," you nod to the girl who's now tugging on her cat tail, “She's also a big She-ra fan."

Your niece waves at Mia at the mention of her name, brightening up a little at the idea of a shared interest. She unnecessarily raises her voice, like ten feet is a chasm she won't be able to be heard from, "I really like your costume."

Mia's grip tightens on his hand, but she looks up to ask him, "Can we?"

He's a little surprised by that, but then you smile up at him from your crouch, and he understands completely; you're persuasive, with your kind eyes and carefully chosen words. He thinks a siren would've been a more accurate costume.

He nods, "Sure, yeah."

You slap your thighs, hopping to your feet. Swinging the door all the way open, you gesture in, "Alright, great. Come on in."

Immediately, Abby is charging ahead, taking hold of Mia's hand and pelting her with questions as she leads her to the living room, a new friend acquired. She’s clearly unburdened by feelings of anxiety around new people. Murmurings of, Who's your favorite character? hit his ears.

You both just stand in the doorway for a moment as you watch them walk away. But then your eyes drop to his scantily clad state, humor quicking your lips. "How are you not cold?" You don't wait for his response. Continuing, voice dropping into something smoother, right back to teasing, “Bringing the kid as a front to flirt with me is kind of low, 8B.”

And while he didn't intend for his niece to be an in with you, this is sort of the moment he’s been waiting for since you moved in all those months ago—up close and personal. The thrill of it seizes control of his brain, rendering him unable to volley a flirtation right back. He’s blue-screened—a little icon circles as you shut the door behind him.

A man's voice calls from the living room, cutting off the reply his brain was working at full capacity to form, “Who’s kid is this?”

You tug at his wrist, and he pliantly follows you to the archway of the living room, keeping just a step behind you. You thumb at him over your shoulder, "This is Jake and his niece, Mia."

Your brother gives him a brief nod of acknowledgment, almost entirely uncaring about his presence beyond confirming some random child didn't just stroll into your apartment. Rolling his beer bottle in his hand, he turns back to look at what seems like fantasy football scores on his phone.

He feels another pair of eyes drag over him; your sister sitting in an armchair has, an apparently genetic, shit-eating grin on her face. She covers the side of her mouth with her hand, but the angle she's sitting at gives him a full view of her mouthed words—the persistent smile on her face makes it clear she’s aware—as she questions you, “Hot neighbor?”

Something shoots from the base of his spine to his heels at the knowledge that you've, at the very least, mentioned him to your sister—enough that he's been dubbed 'hot neighbor'. You laugh wryly, shooting your sister a scathing look as your hand curls around his bicep, warmth soaking into his skin from your palm as you drag him off to your kitchen.

He can't help the smile that works its way onto his face.

Your kitchen is much the same as his, except for the rust-colored pot rack hanging over the island in the middle. There is a pumpkin-carving station set up there, newspaper set down with guts strewn around. A few pumpkins sit on your countertop, out of the way, with already carved faces.

You quickly pivot from your embarrassment to his. "So, the get-up is..."

"She insisted on cartoon accuracy. Don't let the doe eyes fool you; she's a little tyrant."

"I think you just wanted all the hot moms in the building to know that you have abs." You pivot before he can reply—you seem to have a tendency to do that—inquiring, "Do you want me to get you a robe or something?"

"Yes, please."

You disappear down your hallway. Jake, all the while, wonders how he can salvage his dignity. He slips the Little Lord Fauntleroy-esque wig off his head, leaving it abandoned on the counter. Running a hand through his hair, he finds a bit of sweat has collected on his scalp—probably equal parts from the suffocating wig and interacting with you. 

His eyes spot his reflection in the chrome of your fridge. He scrutinizes his appearance there, preening as he tries to put his hair back into some flattering form. It's not nearly as bad as helmet hair, but only by a slight margin.

You come sauntering back in just as Jake figures his hair is as good as it’s gonna get, robe and bucket of candy in hand. He gratefully takes the plush bathrobe from you, his thumb running over an embroidered insignia with a lion and a crown, Ritz-Carlton underneath. You're a robe thief. He probably shouldn't find petty theft as amusing as he does. wrapping it around himself.

“So what’s your poison?” You regard him, “Or are you one of those miserable people who don't eat candy on holidays?”

“I... am not one of those miserable people.” His fingers just barely close on the plastic of the wrapper before you flick your wrist, the candy flopping backward, just out of his grasp.

Batting your lashes at him, your voice drops, "I need to hear the magic words."

He rolls his eyes, the words coming out as a sigh though he’s enjoying the whole play of this, "Please?"

"Noo, by the power of...?"

He can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, regardless of the fact that you're having a laugh at his expense. His chin drops to his chest, shoulders shaking with it. He breathes the laugh out with a sigh, pressing his lips together to try to keep his smile from spreading, unwilling to let you know just how be-witched he is by you. It’s a poor attempt.

He recites the line, "By the power of Grayskull."

You seem overtly pleased by this. You smack the Kit Kat bar into his awaiting palm, and the slightest brush of your fingertips against his skin sends electricity shooting up his arm.

You hand him the candy, turning back to the fridge. A laugh lighting up your eyes, you casually throw over your shoulder, "You're obedient."

An hour later, he’s elbow-deep in pumpkin guts, clearing yours for you as you blatantly watch him, chin in hand.

It's clear that neither one of you really wants to go back to the living room yet; you're both just playing for time, trying to find a reason to stay in this bubble.

"If there weren't children present, what would you be watching in celebration of the holiday?"

"Probably 'The Thing'." Your eyes connect over the table, "What about you?"

“Shaun of the Dead, or maybe, Scream?”

You hum approvingly, and, again, he feels a little tickle of self-satisfaction work its way through him. 

He’s not really good at this—the flirting and winking and fucking he can do, no problem—but the seeing someone every day, the conversations, the connecting… he’s less good at. He’s been alone for so long that it's like an atrophied muscle, weak with disuse. 

But here, in your kitchen, as you pick a pumpkin seed off his shoulder, it feels less insurmountable. 

It's only hours later that he scoops up a half-conscious Mia, the night clearly over with the credit roll of Paranorman. Your brother scoops up and corralls his own out the door.

Your sister approaches him, handing him a slip of paper with her number on it. She smiles. "Not hitting on you. Give that to her mom, maybe the girls can have a playdate sometime."

She leaves him with a knowing wink as she shuts the front door.

Before this night, he was attracted to you, coy and pretty. But now, it might be a little something more. Because, as he's come to find out, you're also kind and generous and funny. You didn't need to open your home to him, could've just put some candy in her bucket and sent them to the next door. But instead, you went out of your way to broker a friendship between two kids.

The hall is quiet as you open the door for him. Warm light from the sconce-lined hallway settles gently over your features. He lingers at the entrance. He doesn’t want the evening to be over yet, but it’s close to his niece's bedtime, and he’s probably already overstayed his welcome. However, the silence that falls over both of you is calm. Not like you’re just counting down the seconds till he leaves.

He shifts his hold on his softly snoring niece, dropping a kiss to your cheek. Quietly, he can hear your breath catch. Pulling back, there's scant room between your bodies despite the blockade of his niece's slumbering form. Your lashes flutter open.

"Thank you for tonight."

Silently, with two fingers hooked on the handle, you return to him the plastic pumpkin bucket. It's significantly fuller than when they showed up to your door; you must've topped it up from your own stash before handing it back. 

You speak just a brush above a whisper, "Anytime. Don't be a stranger."

There's a beat of a shared smile before he turns, and all Jake can think as he ambles down the hall, back to his apartment, is, I won't be.

a/n: thank you for reading and happy halloween!

[floralfloyd]

Day Nine [Frozen]

Summary: Jake is so intoxicated he forgets he played a life-threatening prank on you. Leaving you to freeze, for hours.

Warnings: Violence. Violence against women. Drunk!Jake. Hypothermia

Word Count: 1.5k

Whumptober Prompt Day Nine: Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers have theorised that nightmares are the brain’s way of processing unsettling events of the past. Others believe nightmares are how our subconscious mind prepares us to deal with our real-life fears. Either way, they agree that nightmares are most commonly brought on by one thing…..

Stress. 

“Trick or treat Y/n,” Jake cooed as he cornered you in the hallways that led not only to the bathrooms of the Hard Deck, but also to the fridge, freezer and storeroom. 

“Not now, Hangman, I've got too much on my plate to entertain whatever stupidity is about to come flying outta your mouth,” You sighed as you pushed Jake away softly. It had been a long day and was about to be an even longer night. 

Halloween had the Hard Deck going crazy with costume contests, two-for-one specials, half-price beer and speciality spooky season cocktails. You barely had time to breathe, let alone entertain Jake's cheesy pickup lines. 

“You wound me, Kerner, what's a guy gotta do to get a second of attention?” Jake followed you drunkenly down the hall as you made your way to the walk-in freezer. The kitchen freezer was running empty on fries and burger patties, so you offered to do a run to the bigger, more versatile freezer. 

“Find someone with attention to give?” You replied as you rolled your eyes. Jake stood right behind you as you unlocked the freezer door. He was standing so close that he could almost see the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “I’m really busy, Seresin, I don’t have a second to piss let alone stroke your ego tonight,” It was a little hash, but you and Penny were truly run off your feet. It was only that you were home visiting family that she’d asked you to work a few shifts. 

“Maybe you should take a break then?” Jake nearly hissed as the alcohol he’d consumed coursed through his veins. He’d been drinking nearly all afternoon with Rooster. “Even if it's just for five minutes?” He wasn't thinking straight. Hell, he couldn’t even see straight at the moment. 

“Jake, take a hint man–” You groaned as you slid open the door to the freezer. You handed him the lock and key as you stepped inside. The freezing cold air was harsh against your exposed skin. “I. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This!” You couldn’t deal with Jake and his incessant ability to get under your skin. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his normally flirtatious ways. “You can stay if you wanna help me carry these boxes out but–” 

“Take a damn break, Kerner,” Jake chuckled as he shut the door behind you. You didn’t even have a chance to finish your sentence before the door had rolled across its tracks and shut completely. “Trick it is,” 

“Jake?” You frowned as you tried to open the door as your own breath blew back into your face. You could see it bouncing off the door. “Jake open the door!” There was no answer, only the sound of the very lock you’d just given him, clicking back into its place. 

“Five minutes, Kerner,” Jake chuckled to himself as he pocketed the key. “Maybe a few minutes in the ice box will,” Jake paused as he found humour in his own actions. “Cool you off,” 

“JAKE THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” You panicked as you tried to open the door once more. “LET ME OUT!” As the reality of the situation hit you like a freight train, panic set in on a seismic scale. “OPEN THE DOOR!!” 

“I’m a catch,” Jake slurred to himself as he stumbled down the hall, barely able to stand straight in his American Pscycho-esk costume. “A damn catch,” 

“HELP!!!” The chill was all-consuming. “SOMEONE HELP ME!!!” You shouted as you hit your first against the sliding door, begging someone to help you. “JAKE! SOMEONE!” 

The burn was serial, it dug into every fibre of your being as you screamed at the top of your lungs. Your tears dried frozen on your cheeks the longer you stayed inside the walk-in freezer. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour. Two. Three. 

“I haven’t seen her, George, I swear! I’ve been wondering where the hell she is too,” Penny sighed as she looked around the Hard Deck. Her eyes immediately fell on the group of rag-tag aviators crowded around their favourite corner. “Hey!” She called out as her steps took her across the bar. 

“Penny!” Fanboy called out with a smile smeared across his slightly intoxicated self. “How’s it going!? Happy Halloween!” he cooed, somewhat captivated by the Leia costume she chose for the evening. “Woah, is Penny hot?” 

“Dude,” Rooster spat his beer back into the bottle he’d just sipped at the thought of his teammate having a crush on the woman who had become a second mother to him. “You just said that out loud,” 

“Has anyone seen my barback?” Penny sighed as she held her nose to ward off a headache. “I can’t find her anywhere,” She explained briefly as Jake shot out of the conversation he was having with another unsuspecting Hard Deck visitor. 

“Oh my god–” His eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he fished the key to the walk-in freezer out of his back pocket. “Holy fucking shit I didn’t mean to leave her in there,” 

“Leave who where?” Bradley asked as he followed Jake, all the colour had been wiped clean from his face as he made his way through the crowded Hard Deck. “Jake!” 

“It was an accident!” Jake’s drunken hands shook violently as he made his way to the freezer where he’d forgotten he locked you in. “I-I didn’t mean to–” 

“Oh my gosh,” Penny was in utter disbelief at what her brain was trying to put together. There was no way Jake locked you in the freezer. He wouldn’t? Would he? “Tell me you didn’t,” 

“Give me the key–” Bradley growled as he shoved Jake to the side. Jake immediately forfeited the key as he slid down the wall in unimaginable shame. 

“Kerner!?” Rooster shouted as he worked to unlock the sling door. He had known you for years, you were like a little sister to him. Always a pain in the ass but a good, genuine person. He’d lay down in traffic for you. 

But the minute Bradley saw you sitting up against one of the freezer shelves with blue lips and closed eyes, his heart stopped inside his chest. 

“Y/N!” Bradley panicked as he stepped inside. “Hey!” He slapped your cheek softly, but hard enough to gain your consciousness. “Hey! Y/n, you alright?” 

“Oh my gosh, she’s probably hypothermic, Rooster, I’ll call an ambulance,” Penny added as shock overcame her. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. 

“And the fucking police!” Rooster made sure he said it loud enough for Jake to hear. “Come on sweetheart, open your eyes, you’re alright, I’m here,” 

“I’m sorry!” Jake cried as he slumped over himself in the hallway. “Y/n I’m so sorry!” His apologies fell on deaf ears as Penny ran emergency services, one of them being the police. “I didn’t mean to forget!” 

Sometimes your worst nightmare comes true, but you find it’s really nothing to worry about. Occasionally, you discover what your dread is really a blessing. And your life is better because you persevere, despite your fears. 

“Rooster?’ You could barely speak as Bradley carried you out of the freezer to the shock and horror of the rest of the squad. “M-so cold,” 

“You look a little pale, Kerner, but you’re gonna be alright,” Bradley tried his best to sugarcoat the situation, but with every step he took, his heart broke a little more. He’d promised your dad he’d keep you safe, he just never thought he’d have to keep you safe from Jake. He’d let his guard down, never again. “I’m gonna burry him six feet under for this,” 

“He l-locked m-me away,” Sometimes your worst nightmare is truly scary. And it feels like it’s never going to end. “No one came,” That’s why support from friends and family is vital. 

“I did,” Bradley corrected you as he held you in his arms, warming you up as much as he could as sirens grew louder from the distance. “I came for you, I’m right here,” 

You only ever want to surround yourself with people who will wake you up from your nightmare……and bring you back to reality.

[floralfloyd]

When Duty Calls Part 2 | Cyclone x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You arrive at The Hard Deck, a place that was once like a second home to you.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, and Hangman being... Hangman.

Authors note: Life with a neurodivergent brain means I haven't updated this series since September but I managed to write this chapter in less than a day. Writers block be damned lol.

Read on AO3

It only took you twenty minutes to arrive at The Hard Deck, but another twenty minutes elapsed before you were able to convince yourself to open the car door.

You savor one last minute of air conditioning before willing yourself out of the car. Each crunch of sand under your shoes feels almost deafening but you push yourself forward, instead letting your eyes examine the scene in front of you. It’s early evening and a decent size crowd is occupying the parking lot while a slow moving but steady stream of people flow through the front door.

You join the back of the pack and slip your phone out from your back pocket. As luck would have it, your phone—unused since before you’d gotten in the shower—opens directly onto the text-that-shall-not-be-named. The panic inducing text bubbles have vanished and your initial message remains the last one sent between you both. Half of you is flooded with relief by the lack of response while the other half is more bothered by it than you’d ever care to admit.

You peer around the man in front of you, hoping to find a spot to slip through, but to no avail. From where you’re standing, you’re granted a perfectly framed view of The Hard Deck’s sun washed coastal siding against the blazing blue sky. It is a view that fills you with both comfort and nostalgia.

The nights you’d spent at this bar were among the few memories you let yourself get lost in. Quarters in the jukebox, the feeling of salt and sun making itself home on your skin, Clinking bottles and cans together after a job well done, the biting taste of whiskey on your tongue while venting frustrations. All things that drove you away, yet they kept you going when you needed it most.

Your spiraling thoughts barely register when you remember the phone still in your hands. You hurriedly lock the screen and slide the device back into your pocket. You far from expect anyone peering over your shoulder to piece together exactly who had left you on read, but your instincts tell you that you can’t be too careful. You’ve seen first hand how people here ensure that even the most baseless rumors spread quicker than wildfire. The last thing you need is to be pulled into an office and reprimanded before this mission even begins.

You were now second place from the entrance, so you capture the remaining moments and stomp out the last bit of anxiety left in your gut.

You cross the threshold in one quick step, your eyes already scanning the room and taking note of how many of the faces in this bar were completely unfamiliar. Whoever had sent the summoning text you’d received roughly two hours earlier chose to leave out who or what you should be looking for, so you instinctively set off towards the bar. ~ There wasn’t an empty barstool in sight, so you stay on your feet and shoulder your way through the rowdy servicemen until you can lean your elbows against bar top. Your chosen attire of light wash jeans and a brown tank top is nothing special, but your actions have earned more than a few glances, and you felt myself wanting to shrink under their eyes. You push your insecurities aside just in time to spot the woman you’re looking for.

“Penny!” you call out, raising your arm above your head in a lazy wave. She pivots instantly at the sound of her name and freezes briefly as her eyes land on you. A wave of memories—both wanted and not—wash over you in the time it takes her to abandon the towel and glass she’d been drying and pace over to you.

In a past life, you’d spent the majority of your free time helping out behind the bar or escorting Amelia and her friends around town. Penny was like a sister to you then, and both her and Amelia had been two of the hardest people to leave behind.

“Now that’s a face I didn’t expected to see at my bar again.” Penny says bluntly, but you can see the tell tale signs of a smile threatening to shine through.

“It’s good to see you too, pen.” You say with an easy smile.

“I assume you got called back too?” she asks. You give her a curt nod in response.

“Well then it seems like your friends got the party started without you.” She says while signaling towards the pool table on the far side of the bar.

“Friends is a strong word.” You say dryly.

“Well, in that case,“ She starts, only to pause and crouch down behind the bar. “Go easy on them.”

She finishes her sentence with a soft laugh and slides a can across the bar towards you. You wipe the ice and condensation off the rim and crack open the soda. The action is so familiar you don’t even give the can’s label a glance. You make sure to take a long, dramatic swig in the process.

“Thanks.” You say, tilting the can towards her while simultaneously breezing past her comment.

“I mean what I said. I obviously don’t know what’s ahead, but I get the sense that they don’t either. Hold your cards close to your chest around them.” She warns.

“Yes ma’am.” You affirm.

The area around you has cleared a bit which gives you some much appreciated breathing room. Over Penny’s shoulder you watch yet another man approach the bar, only this time it’s a face you’re anything but excited to recognize.

Of course Hangman would be back too.

You fight back the urge to grimace as he calls out to Penny, who quickly acknowledges him before turning back to you.

“Do you still have my number?” She asks.

“Always.” You answer, which earns me a soft smile from Penny.

“Good. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That we do.” you agree, trying your best to mask any lingering unease about what the following weeks had in store.

You take your time circling the bar, and keep your eyes on Hangman as Penny serves him another beer. You have half a mind to ask him if he has any idea why we were all called back, but the thought dies the minute he makes an painful show of checking you out.

"Hangman." You say with the fakest smile you can manage.

“Just when I’d thought you were gone for good…” he says while dragging his gaze slowly up your body until he reaches your eyes.

“I knew you’d be bored without me.”

Jake laughs while you take a sip of soda and swallow down the anger building inside you.

“Aw, how considerate.”

“We can’t all be complete assholes, so…” You respond pointedly.

Hangman gears up in rebuttal just as Penny calls out your name and waves you back over. He turns to make his leave—and you’re almost shocked he’s accepting defeat—but the shock instantly becomes irritation when you both back away while throwing each other equally unkind hand gestures.

Turning towards Penny, you let her take your free hand in hers and give it a sisterly squeeze. An uncomfortable silence lies between you, and you can practically see the wheels of contemplation turning in her head.

“Have you… talked to him?” She queries in a low voice.

You don’t know what your face betrays, but hers instantly fills with a look of regret. You change your grip on the soda can, the chilled aluminum suddenly searing against your fingertips. You open your mouth to answer but can’t find the right words. Thankfully, she seems to take the silence as a hint.

“Well, I hope to see you both around more often.” She says quietly. Her words are simple and pleasant, but you can’t help but feel the urge to read deeper into them.

“Yeah, me too.” You breathe.

She squeezes your hand once more, and you all but cringe as the vulnerability in your words and voice rings loudly in your ears. After the unfortunate events of the last ten minutes, you’re quick to follow Hangman’s path towards the pool table. ~ You can feel eyes on you as you drop into one of the surrounding barstools, but make no effort of acknowledging them. The game plan you’d written earlier in the day flashes through your mind, and you know you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself than necessary. You chose to sit and observe for a while before briefly catching up with old friends from your first time at Top Gun over a few rounds of pool. Soon after, you use the uncomfortably tense exchange between Hangman and Rooster as cover and slink onto the stool next to Phoenix’s new backseater.

You quickly learn that as quiet as he may be, the WSO—who’s stationed out in Lemoore and has the name and callsign Bob, according to your former wingman Natasha—Is more than happy to engage in a bit of gossip. Something which you’re happy to do as you watch the last several aviators file through the door.

It is only when you rise from your seat to refill Bob’s bucket of peanuts that you notice the awkward hush falling over the group. It wasn’t hard to decide that if the already heavy dose of tension was anything to go by, this mission—and the complete lack of details as to why any of you had been called back here in the first place—has everyone feeling shook up.

Bucket in hand, you skim the outskirts of the group. And quickly share a collective double take with Harvard, Yale, Omaha, and Fritz. You know the same question weighing heavy on your mind is doing the same to theirs. Yet before you can ask, the sound of Phoenix’s voice commands everyone’s attention and breathes life into one of the many questions you are all dying to ask.

“Everyone here is the best there is. So who the hell are they going to get to teach us?”

Taglist: @katesmadness @natasharomanoffisbaebby @nobody7102 @idiomaticpunk @thebeckyjolene @paintballkid711 @barbiewritesstuff @bbooks-and-teas @starshipfantasy @saramaple @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @katesmadness @shakira-sasha @xoxabs88xox @nyx2021 @qardasngan @fanboyluvr @bellamy1998 @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @autumnleaves1991-reads @dozcan123 @noxytopy @accio-boys @the-winter-marvel33 @justameresimp @abaker74 @starlightmoon2020 @comfortzonequeen, @flrboyd @heyitskay-21 @kmc1989 @kkrenae

[floralfloyd]

When Duty Calls Part 1 | Cyclone x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Your return home brings you inner turmoil, prolonged typing bubbles, and what may turn out to be a chance to mend what you broke.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, a lot of internal thoughts/monologue, implied non-platonic feelings (if you squint).

a/n: This took a bit longer to get out than I’d hoped, but I’m so excited to have gotten the ball rolling!

Read on AO3

In your experience, one of the hardest parts of being back stateside is the noise. Both the quiet and the loud.

Your former home — An aircraft carrier somewhere in the middle of the Pacific — was by no means quiet, but each sound, each movement, each person, had its purpose. the low hum of radio chatter or the sound of planes taking off overhead had become a strange comfort to you. You were one of the lucky ones who quickly found where you belonged amongst that noise. Now after years spent painstakingly carving your name into the Naval history books, you were far from just another officer. And yet, in some twisted way, that glorious reputation of yours is exactly what brought you back here in the first place.

Exactly 23 hours ago you were still stationed on that aforementioned aircraft carrier, completely unaware that you would soon be summoned and informed — albeit with more eloquent verbiage — that you were to pack your things and head back to TOPGUN. A thousand different questions brewed inside you, but you were well aware that the Navy has never been the place to voice them. Instead, you honored each following set of instructions with nothing more than a simple "Yes sir, no ma'am".

The subsequent hours were filled with personal chaos and three different modes of transportation. Luckily, not much could phase you at this point. At least not enough for anyone to pick up on your external cues of panic. Contrary to the aviator stereotype, you liked to think of yourself as level-headed with a strong preference for flying under the radar, both in a literal and figurative sense. You'd weathered through everything the last 24 hours had thrown at you without so much as a snide remark. You kept your calm when the airline briefly lost your single piece of checked luggage. You even brushed off each lingering stare and every all too frequent ask of "So, Is your husband/brother/father/next-door neighbor in the service?". Yet, approximately three and a half minutes ago, something in you started to crack. Logic told you that this was just your nervous system coming to terms with what the next several weeks would entail, but an increasingly large part of your mind knew that that was only half the story. But seeing as you currently found yourself frozen in the back of your Uber, gripping the door handle as if your life depended on it, these facts were neither here nor there. As the latest wave of anxiety runs its course you suppress a shudder and call on your now-sapped willpower. Logic once again tells you that fresh air helps in these situations, so you force your pointer finger out and roll the window down. You hold the button until the window is right above halfway down. Just far enough to let the bright San Diego sunshine in while still allowing you to lean your head against the cool glass. After a few deep breaths, you run your tongue along the outside of your lips. The air is laced with the familiar taste of sea salt. If your memory served you right, you were just under a mile from the ocean and no more than three from base. The thought had barely crossed your mind before the pang of countless different emotions hit you. You silently curse your faultless sense of direction. In sudden need of a distraction, your free hand reaches into your bag and pulls out your phone. You blink away the dryness in your eyes before shifting your attention to the small screen which only takes a halfhearted tap to flash to life. You swipe through your notifications before tapping on the message that's been lingering in the back of your mind since the early hours of the morning.

I'm assuming you've been made aware of your latest assignment. received 7:13 am. — followed by — We hope your trip back goes well. received 7:26 am.

I landed about an hour ago, you text back. Headed home now.

It didn't surprise you that Warlock would be the first to reach out. Given his rank and location, he probably knew all about the mission. Plus, if you knew anything about the man, it was that he's always been the diplomatic type. From the stories you heard of their younger years, a part of you has always wondered if this is why his friendship with Cyclone worked so well.

Speaking of Cyclone, you click the back button and select his contact. Your last conversation with him — dated just one day before your deployment — quickly appears. God, had it really been almost five months since you last spoke? At this revelation, you sit staring at the screen for a few beats. You knew him and his personality far too well to expect him to welcome you back with open arms, but that didn't make the radio silence hurt any less. You want nothing more than to reach out, but with a shaky breath, you remind yourself that he's a horribly busy man with fewer personal relationships than you can count on one hand. However, this doesn't stop a flash of sadness from coursing through your body.

Exiting the text thread, you click on the only other new message. It's from an unsaved number and its contents inform you that everyone who's been called back is meeting up tonight at the Hard Deck. Just as you are about to send back a quick "thank you. Who is this?", something else pops into your mind and grabs your interest entirely. You quickly back out and tap on Warlock's contact. You read his second message again, Then at least five more times after that.

We hope your trip back goes well.

We?

You weren't one to get into the semantics of things, but the ambiguity of his word choice hung heavy over you. There was a possibility that he was innocently referring to himself and his wife. Yet there was an equal, and far more electrifying, chance that he was talking about himself and Cyclone. It was no secret to Warlock that the pair of you were, at least at one time, immensely close. That familiar itch returned to your fingertips, though this time you feared it would be here to stay. Over the last five months, You've been down this path countless times before. Yet each time it got harder and harder not to simply dial his number and ask about his day as if no time had passed at all. Reminding yourself that the chances of him picking up were firmly in the negative, you looked from your phone entirely and instead redirected your sights to the world outside. As you look up, The car rounds one last corner and the familiarity of your surroundings kicks into overdrive. The lump in your throat grows as both the ocean and your house come into view. Your heart swells as you realize your neighborhood hasn't changed a bit. You were fully prepared for your homecoming to be emotionally taxing, but what you hadn't prepared for was just how right it would all feel.

You come to a stop at the curb directly across from your house. You thank the driver as you exit, and a moment later your feet hit the concrete. Your hands are surprisingly steady against your luggage. The car slowly pulls away. You are left standing in your yard, phone in hand, staring up at your long-established home. The walk up the driveway is one you've made at least a thousand times. And something in you knows that it's the bittersweet familiarity of it all that finally allowed your one inescapable urge to take hold.

The rational side of your brain — the one you should be more inclined to listen to in this situation — told you that he's probably terribly busy doing all those terribly important Vice Admiral things he spent far too many hours a day doing. But the emotional side — the one that above all else, won't let you forget your history together — told you that all you really wanted was to hear his voice again. Or at very least get a few words of blunt (and often trenchant) encouragement. Your suitcase rolls over polished hardwood as you close the door behind you. The only thing you're greeted by is a stale silence. Your friends in the area had been kind enough to stop by while you were gone to ensure remained in working order, but that didn't make the stillness any easier to swallow.

Surely there's no harm in simply reaching out, right?

It was in that moment, standing with your back against the front door, that you hoisted up your white flag of defeat. Almost instantly your fingers were fast at work typing out your message before your conscience could reckon with how bad this idea was. Your words of choice were innocuous enough, yet you feel nothing but anguish the moment after you hit send.

Hey there. I know it's been… a while. You probably know I'm back in town on orders. If you have the time, I'd love to catch up. Sent >1min ago.

You kick your shoes off with a frustrated huff and immediately head for your bedroom. For what you lacked in the typical aviator ego, you made up for tenfold with split-second impulsiveness. On the bright side, you at least had the sense to leave the "I miss you so bad please respond" part unsaid. It's a short walk, and you toss your phone onto your bed once you're there with the full intention of taking a quick shower. Only, your phone lands face up. Leaving you watching in horror as your still unlocked screen proudly displays the typing bubbles on his end slowly appearing and disappearing.

Somewhere between bolting back out of the room and spending 45 minutes under the ice cold water coming out of your shower head, you pulled together a crude course of action. For the duration of your time here, you will do nothing but keep your head down, execute the mission, and be the Navy's perfect little flying angel. Somewhere between the lines of the damp post-it note you jotted this down on are the words "and no more attempts at reconnecting with the people you left in the past.". though even you know that even your best attempt at following that step will wind up unavailing at best. Post shower and with a slight semblance of a plan in place, you were already starting to feel like yourself again. Like every other mission, your ability to execute the plan would make or break you, and If the secrecy surrounding why exactly you were called back to Top Gun was anything to go off of you would have to be entirely focused and at your most cutthroat.

Exiting your room, you made your way to the front door where you quickly pulled on your boots and grabbed your keys from the dish in the entryway. The route from your house to the Hard Deck is one that's permanently etched into your mind. This wasn't the time nor the place to be making friends and in all honesty you wanted nothing more than to stay in and order takeout. However, you knew that you needed to scope out your competition as soon as possible.

You check the entryway mirror one last time before turning the knob and passing the threshold. You square your shoulders as you make the short walk to your car while also doing your best to ignore the growing feeling that the first of many wrenches is about to be thrown at your freshly made strategy.

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @katesmadness, @natasharomanoffisbaebby, @nobody7102, @idiomaticpunk, @thebeckyjolene, @paintballkid711, @simpledyiing, @barbiewritesstuff, @bbooks-and-teas, @starshipfantasy, @saramaple, @marchingicenotes7, @bayisdying, @princessofglitterland, @katesmadness, @shakira-sasha, @xoxabs88xox, @nyx2021, @qardasngan, @fanboyluvr, @mrsjaderogers, @bellamy1998, @alexxavicry, @madamemelancholysstuff, @autumnleaves1991-reads, @dozcan123, @nani-kenobi, @noxytopy, @accio-boys, @the-winter-marvel33, @justameresimp, @abaker74, @starlightmoon2020, @comfortzonequeen, @flrboyd, @heyitskay-21, @kmc1989, @kkrenae (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[floralfloyd]

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Three

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. Isaac Cassidy's gang is still hanging about, stirring up trouble in the name of their fallen leader. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Content Warnings: Talks of business, Talks of unsavory characters, Flirting, Jake being a menace, Bradley being kind of cute, Feelings of being watched, Paranoia, Thunderstorms, Reader gets scared, Cuddling, Talks of the future, and a Proposal. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist 1 || Playlist 2

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say?” You asked Benjamin as he shoved a wad of shirts into one of his suitcases. Rolling your eyes, you stepped into his room, removing the shirts to fold them neatly into a pile as he started in on his pants. “Would you stop shoving everything in? You’re going to have wrinkles in everything by the time you get there.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes, setting his pants down on the bed before crossing his arms over his chest.

“You nag just like Mother used to,” he grumbled. You shot him a dirty look before dropping the shirt in your hands and moving towards the door. Benjamin let out an exasperated growl before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Please help me pack.”

You let out a humph and a roll of your eyes as you continued to fold his clothes neatly for him.

“Now why must you go off to San Francisco so suddenly?” You prodded.

“It’ll be good for the business,” he explained. “Mr. Kerner has invited Maverick and me to join him at his firm to go over the essentials and to tour other mines so that we might see how the operations work. Maverick won’t join us until later, but I’ll go ahead to get some of the legal proceedings outs of the way.”

“You’re a lawyer,” you hummed, a frown tugging at your lips, “so why the sudden interest in investing in a gold mine?”

“It’ll be good money, Scout,” he insisted. “It’ll set my children and even yours up for life. Hell, this could be an addition to our legacy, to the life we’ve started out here.”

Financial security was tempting, especially in uncertain times, and while the ranch itself was making money, there was no promise that it would tomorrow. You supposed that it was wise to venture into other pursuits—just in case one of them ended up a failure.

“I can see by the look on your face that you don’t agree,” Benjamin hummed, pursing his lips.

“No, it’s not that,” you grumbled, shaking your head. Benjamin arched a brow in your direction in a silent question, and you let out a long sigh before continuing. “I’m concerned about the safety of this town. News of gold is going to draw in all sorts from all over, and only a fraction of them will have good intentions. Did you consider that?”

Benjamin didn’t respond right away, the thoughts racing through his head almost visible in his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head, moving across the room to gather a couple of items from his dresser.

“You worry too much.”

You scoffed. “You worry too little.”

“That’s why we’re such a great team, baby sister,” he grinned, spinning back around on his heel to face you. “Together, we worry just the right amount.”

You glared at him, though there was no real heat to it.

“Bad things are bound to happen anywhere,” he reasoned with a sigh, plopping down on the bed beside you, arms outstretched across the width of the mattress. “The country is expanding west, Scout. There were already unsavory characters here, as you very well know.”

You did know, the memory of Isaac’s cold, black eyes flashing in your mind and sending a shiver up your spine.

“That doesn’t mean we need to give others more reason to follow suit,” you muttered, picking at some non-existent lint on your skirt. Benjamin let out a long sigh before turning his head to look at you.

“You know,” he drawled thoughtfully, “you could just seduce them all like you did Seresin. I mean, it worked out pretty well last ti-”

Benjamin let out a startled squawk as you brought the pillow down on his face, his arms flailing as he scrambled to sit up as you reared your hand back to hit him again.

“I did not seduce him,” you hissed, trying desperately to hold back your laughter as Benjamin nearly collapsed onto the floor in his frenzy.

“Well, you certainly didn’t stop him,” he snickered, dodging your next blow just in time, cowering as you advanced on him. “In fact, there’s been more than one occasion where I’ve walked in on the two of you engaging in-”

The next blow had him stumbling on his feet. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, the heat running down your neck and to your ears. Benjamin rubbed his jaw, pulling his fingers back to inspect them.

“Kissing,” he said, glancing over at you. “I was going to say kissing. Your guilty conscious gets the better of you, Scout.”

You scowled at him, raising the pillow once more, only stopping once he raised his hands in surrender.

“I yield,” he chuckled, dropping his hands as you dropped yours. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, you know.”

“I’d rather you didn’t say anything,” you retorted, setting the pillow back in its proper place.

“I think it’s good you’ve found happiness out here,” he continued, ignoring your comment. “I’m happy that you’ve managed to find someone who makes you happy rather than someone who you think would make our father happy. Jake is a fairly decent step up from Henry Cargill.”

Your lips puckered at the name. You would have lived comfortably had you chosen to stay behind in Maryland and marry Henry as your late father would have wanted before his death, but you knew you made the right decision in choosing Jake.

Even if he still hadn’t proposed after all these months.

“I have to go run a few things to Penny,” you announced, making a beeline for the door.

“Sure you do,” Benjamin scoffed. “Give my regards to Jake, then.”

The fan in your hand did little to quell the heat of the changing seasons. It was early spring, a time where it was too hot for your winter wardrobe, but still too hot for your summer clothes. Your arm was beginning to hurt from how hard you were fanning yourself, and you closed your eyes to give them a rest from the glare of the sun overhead.

You hated the heat.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

You pried an eye open to see two green ones already on you. You straightened up, turning to face Jake fully as he smirked down at you.

“Jake,” you nodded, managing to keep the eager smile at bay as you batted your eyes up at him.

“You look like you’re roastin’, honey girl,” he chuckled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Why’d you wear this if it’s gonna have you miserable?”

“I’ll be too cold in my summer clothes,” you explained with a sigh. Jake’s eyes twinkled as his smirk grew lascivious.

“I can think of a few ways to keep you warm,” he purred, a different heat rising to your cheeks at his words. You swatted him with your fan as you glanced around to see if anyone had heard him.

“Behave,” you warned, snapping the fan shut and tapping the end into his chest. He pouted, placing a hand to his chest in faux hurt.

“Me?” He asked, batting his lashes. “You’re accusing me of misbehaving? Well, now I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you are,” you snorted, withdrawing your hand to continue fanning yourself. Jake watched you for a moment, drinking you in as sweat ran down the column of your throat, his eyes following it down and continuing on as he took in the rest of you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted, and you shot him a glare.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snapped, drawing his attention back to your face, a sheepish look gracing his features at having been caught.

“Like what?”

“You know damn good and well what you were doing,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’re not a married couple, and people already talk.”

“Let them,” he said, leaning forward. You pushed at his chest, a thunderous look on your face as he chuckled. “We’re practically married, anyway.”

Your temper simmered beneath your skin as you replied, “Not without a proper proposal and ceremony, we’re not.”

“All good things to those who wait, honey girl,” he smirked once more. You pursed your lips, lifting your chin as you watched the people of Maverick pass by.

“The butcher’s son asked me for my hand again yesterday morning,” you mused. “If you don’t get your act together soon, I’m going to let him start believing it’s a possibility.”

“Honey girl, you best watch it now,” Jake warned, eyes growing dark as a glint shone in his eyes.

“Or what?” You challenged, lifting your chin in defiance. Jake’s frown turned into a dangerous smirk. He squared his shoulders, taking a step closer to you before leaning down close enough for you to inhale the scent was so distinctly him. He leaned in, the heat rolling off of him and causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Your hand came up to brace yourself against his arm as his other wound around your waist, squeezing slightly.

“Or,” he purred, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “I’ll put you over my knee and leave your ass so red and raw, you’ll be shifting in that pew at church Sunday morning.”

You let out a shuddering breath, chest heaving as he pulled away, a smug smirk sat firmly on his lips as he shot you a wink.

“You look flustered, Scout,” he grinned, golden hair shining in the sunlight and creating a halo effect that had you gaping. “Looks like you might need to sit down before you faint.”

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled, shooting him a half-hearted glare. He chuckled and leaned down to peck your cheek.

“Takes one to know one,” he murmured as you swatted at him again. He dodged you, hopping back.

“Jake!”

You turned to see Bradley standing on the porch to the Hard Deck, posture nervous as he shifted on his feet and his eyes darted around. Jake sighed and let out a long sigh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He peered over at you as the other man gestured towards the blond to come over.

“I gotta go, honey girl,” Jake said, pursing his lips as he shot Bradley a glare. “Bradshaw wants to make sure his costume is perfect for the play in a couple of days, and I somehow got roped into helping.”

“Will you be by for dinner?” You asked. “I’m making dumplings.”

Jake let out a moan as he fixed you with adoring eyes. “I swear to god, I’m going to marry you.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you teased, a smile playing at your lips.

“Jake!”

“Jesus, Bradshaw! It’s a costume for a school play, not life and death,” Jake snapped over his shoulder. “Give me a damn minute!”

You snickered as Bradley rolled his eyes and stomped back into the saloon. Jake grinned down at you as he toyed with a strand of your hair.

“When’s Benji goin’ to be home?” He purred, eyes lidded as he looked you up and down once more.

“He won’t,” you told him, and his attention snapped up to you. “He’s going to San Francisco for business.”

“He what?” Jake asked, frowning. “He’s leaving you on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s only for a few weeks, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Jake.”

You looked to see Javy now standing on the porch, hands on his hips as he nodded at you.

“Come on,” he hollered across the street, peering over his shoulder for a moment to see into the saloon. “Bradley’s freaking out. You can canoodle later.”

You looked back at Jake who looked like he was going to lose his temper at any moment, bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“He’s coming!” You hollered back, a smile on your face as you rested a hand on Jake’s chest. You lowered your head to try and meet his gaze. “Canoodle?”

“I don’t know where he hears these words,” he griped, shaking his head. “You’d think the damn world was ending with how Bradley’s going on about this whole thing. It’s a play, for Christ’s sake.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you shrugged. “He and Birdie are cute together.”

Jake hummed but didn’t answer, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll see you later tonight?” He asked, backing away slowly. You nodded barely hiding your smile behind your fan as he grinned, turning and trotting over towards the saloon. You watched silently, and with one last wave, he was inside.

You let out a sigh, wondering just when exactly you had become so lovesick as to miss him already. A tingle shot up the base of your neck, and you whipped your head towards the end of the street, the feeling of being watched suddenly prominent. You frowned as your scanned the street, shaking your head as you saw no one or nothing out of place. That was happening to you a lot recently, the feeling of being watched. You always managed to chalk it up to residual feelings from your encounter with Isaac not too long ago.

The bell to the door of the general store rang out, startling you out of your thoughts as Hondo grinned down at you.

“Well, good afternoon, Miss Scout,” he grinned, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in. “Have you been waiting long? I didn’t think I’d take so long getting that shipment ready.”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head and the rest of the worrying thoughts out of your head. “Not at all. Do you have anything new in today?”

It was late, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. The ranch hands had retired to their own homes only an hour before, and you had finished cleaning up from dinner not long after. Jake hadn’t shown up, and you were sure that Bradley’s panic induced state had something to do with that.

The wind had been picking up steadily over the course of the past hour, and the sound of distant thunder rolled into the confines of your home. You usually found the sound of thunder soothing, but for some reason it had you on edge tonight. The rain had started off as a few scattered sprinkles and then quickly dissolved into a downpour, the wind howling and rattling the windows. You had taken up purchase on the sofa, needlework in hand as you attempted to occupy your mind with anything other than worrying thoughts that nagged at you.

The fireplace crackled, casting a soothing heat that helped to ease your mind some, but you quickly set your needlework aside to get up and make yourself some tea.

The kitchen was dark save for the candle you had lit to allow yourself some light, the light from the flame flickering and casting ominous shadows in your usually cozy home. The panes of the window rattled as another gust of wind rammed into the house, and you tapped your finger on the countertop as you chewed on your bottom lip. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and your heart stopped as your eyes caught the shadow of a figure by the barn. You narrowed your eyes, trying to peek through the darkness and into the shadows. Surely no one would be standing out in this weather. And looking into your house of all places? Still, a sickening feeling boiled in the pit of your stomach, and adrenaline started to course through your veins.

Another crack of lightning crashed in the night, startling you enough to jump, but one look toward the barn had you letting out a shaky breath. There was no one there this time, and you were starting to wonder if there ever was to begin with. Were you going crazy?

The creek of the floorboards behind you coupled with another peel of thunder had you whirling around, a scream caught in your throat at the sight of a shadow in the doorway.

“Scout?”

It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but the sight of Jake standing in front of you had a wave of relief washing over you, a tear escaping the corner of your eye unbidden.

“Honey girl,” he cooed, walking forward, his arms reaching for you, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, a hand over your mouth as you pushed the sob working its way up back down. Jake was soaked from head to toe, droplets dripping onto the floor as he rubbed your arms in a soothing motion.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. “What’s going on? What has you so worked up?”

You felt stupid. The shadow you saw must have been Jake checking on the horses. Yes, that had to have been him. You were letting your paranoia get the better of you.

“You’re dripping water all over my floors,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes widened, looking from you down to the floor before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, “I would have been here sooner, but-”

“You’re here now,” you said, moving past him and towards the laundry you hadn’t had a chance to put away yet. “You need to change or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Scout,” he started, voice wary as he watched you scurry about. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

You stood up, a clean shirt clutched in your hands as you looked back at him. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He studied you for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive,” you corrected. “Now go and get changed. I’ll warm up some food for you.”

Jake didn’t take long, changing and eating quickly as you took care of the odds and ends around the house. Neither of you spoke a word, but Jake’s eyes watched you as you pointedly refused to meet his gaze.

The two of you retired to the parlor, Jake reading as you started to doze. He reached for you, pulling you across the sofa and into his arms as he let out a contented sigh. You chuckled, shaking your head as you practically burrowed into his side. His fingers stroked up and down the length of your arm, adding to the calm that enveloped you even as the storm raged outside.

“You ever think about what our life together is going to be like?”

You hummed, lifting your head to peer up at him through sleepy eyes. “I do.”

“You ever think about what kind of house you’d want?” Jake continued, staring into the fireplace.

“Sometimes,” you nodded slowly. “I’d like a house big enough for our kids and grandkids to play in. Somewhere we can grow old in.”

“I’d like that too,” he murmured, hands moving down to play with your fingers absentmindedly. “I want a large house with enough land to support ourselves. Nothing like the amount of land Benji’s got himself here, but enough that we wouldn’t have to struggle.”

Silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You soaked up the feeling of the moment, mind drifting towards sleep as Jake continued to play with your fingers.

“I’m going to build us a big, ol’ house,” he continued quietly. “I’m going to build you the kitchen of your dreams and set up your own little garden while I’m at it. You’re not going to want for anything, Scout.”

You hummed, feeling the touch of cool metal slide onto your left ring finger, a furrow in your brow as your brain tried to claw its way back to the land of the conscious.

“I can’t give you all these fancy jewels or take you to Paris and London for holidays, but I can give you my heart and my devotion. You’ll never have to question me or my loyalty to you, honey girl.”

You pried your eyes open, gasping at the diamond that now glittered on your hand. Jake brushed his lips against your temple, breathing you in as you struggled to catch up with what was happening, tears filling your eyes as a smile curled on your lips.

“Scout,” Jake started. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A/N: I missed these two so much oh my goooooooood. And how about that ending, huh?? That's crazy lol Anyway, I'm hoping to have some time to work on a few more updates for next week, but we'll see. I'll run a poll for the next update, but let me know thoughts! Both on the next update and what you thought of this chapter!

[floralfloyd]

Can I request from the cozy list ⋆ cuddling under a blanket and ⋆ lazy days in with Jake? With a cozy vibe please and thank you.

Five More Minutes | Jake Seresin

spooktober masterlist

synopsis: Jake takes a moment to remind himself of how glad he is to be home

warnings: mentions of loneliness on deployment, i guess. Other than that, none.

Rain beats along the glass, droplets racing each other towards the wipers. There’s a lump in his throat and the finishing chords of a Red Hot Chilli Peppers song on the radio. It’s a dark and dreary late October, and there’s a lot on his mind. 

Jake Seresin has spent sixty-five percent of the last four years away from home. He’s still getting used to the routine that comes with this new assignment. Early starts, sure — but there’s security. There are days like today, where he gets to park his truck in his own damn driveway and listen to the end of his favourite song.

He scrubs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw and looks towards the front window of his home, thinking of what he gets next. He gets to walk through his front door and follow the sound of a movie, searching room to room until he finds what he’s looking for. You.

“Well, don’t you look cozy.” 

Breaking away from the opening credits of your movie, you turn your attention to the doorway and blink. Your brows knit together as you start to feel around for your phone. He’s not due to be home for hours.  

Standing in his uniform, looking every bit as edible as he usually does, your fiancé offers you an amused smile. He raps his knuckles against the wooden doorframe as he wanders into the living room.

Droplets of rain leave spots of darkness on his khaki shirt, his hair a little damp, his boots left neatly by the front door. The rain picks up, whistling against the windows, a heavy storm rolling in from over the ocean.

You hadn’t even heard his truck pull onto the driveway over the sound of the rain hitting the windows and the TV playing.

He sees the confusion on your face.

“Got sent home. Shit weather, bunch of guys couldn’t make it in and everybody’s grounded.” His first point of call is to lean over and press his lips to your forehead, just like he had when he had left for work in the early hours of this morning, while you had still been curled up in your shared bed. 

Jake’s new assignment means that he has to be on base pretty much by the time the sun is rising. He hadn’t ever struggled to get up early, until it had meant leaving you in bed by yourself.

Smiling now, he takes advantage of the way you’re curled onto your side and smooths a hand over your ass, giving it a soft squeeze as he peeks over his shoulder towards the television.

“What are you watching?”

“Hocus Pocus. I was going to have a movie day.”

The house smells like vanilla and sugar, candles burning and casting a soft orange hue across the living room. It’s a nice day for it, and Jake can’t remember the last time he had gotten to lay around and do nothing. 

“You can still have your movie day, sweetheart.” He murmurs, patting your thigh softly as he stands back up. “You mind if I join?”

You peer up at him, brows raised. “You want to?”

“Of course I do, don’t pause the movie — I’ll be right back.”

It’s borderline unfair that he comes back in your favourite of his pairs of gray sweatpants, and the best fitting of his white t-shirts.

“Scootch.” Patting your thighs, he maneuvers over you and twists himself around until he can lay comfortably behind you. Draping one arm over your middle and the other under your head, he presses himself against your back.

You turn your face towards his outstretched wrist, breathing in the smoky scent of his lingering cologne. 

He wriggles, settling his head against the mass of throw pillows that you like to fill this couch with. It almost makes your lips quirk. He complained in the store but he seems pretty happy with them now.

He has spent plenty of time on old ships that rattle and groan, smelling like nothing but rust and harsh chemicals. Plenty of time sleeping in rooms by himself, reading every book he can get his hands on, pressing his pillow over his head to block out the sound of a dozen men snoring.

It’s easy to forget.

Since he got home, he has really thrown himself into his work. Leaving early, getting home late. Sitting in planes with the weight of the world dragging against him, or stiff office chairs, or benches in locker rooms. 

His body thanks him as he eases into all those damn throw pillows, pulling your body against him to feel your weight against his. Anchoring you to him by tightening his hold, closing his eyes — just for a moment.

“‘M glad you’re home.” Your lips brush against his wrist as his other arm gives your middle an affectionate squeeze. He watches as you adjust your blanket to cover him too, squeezing closer to fit the both of you under it. 

“Me too.” He mumbles, his throat dry. He presses a soft, slow kiss to your clothed shoulder and then rests his chin against it. 

Those scented candles flicker around him, the movie hums on, and your heart beats steadily against his chest. Man, he’s glad to be home.