#coyote has two hands

[keymintt]

a comic/zine about coyotes

[kcuf-ad]

Starrk is AroAce, but is dating Kyoraku and Harribel.

[trollbreak]

He has 2 hands and they’re both full but I think he needs to hold more and he’s patient he’ll figure it out

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

masterlist.

[writingdumpster]

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob. 

I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo

“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit. 

“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered. 

“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said. 

“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested. 

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman. 

“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback. 

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out. 

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted. 

“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said. 

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in. 

“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said. 

“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker. 

“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was. 

“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up. 

“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.

“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin. 

“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer. 

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you. 

“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.” 

“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed. 

“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife. 

“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked. 

“Y/N,” you told her. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.

“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it. 

“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.” 

“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back. 

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said. 

“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly. 

“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.

“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question. 

“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you. 

“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.  

“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster. 

“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back. 

“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked. 

“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet. 

“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out. 

“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled. 

“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained. 

“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained. 

“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said. 

“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry. 

“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face. 

“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home. 

“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base. 

“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered. 

“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said. 

“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted. 

“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”  

A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available

[princesssmars]

desert eagle

another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i

seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.

wc : 2.619

contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3

a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.

truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.

it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.

but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.

it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.

but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'

who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.

right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.

the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.

the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.

you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-

"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.

"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."

"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.

"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"

"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."

"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"

"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”

so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.

your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.

“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.

“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-

“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”

you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.

“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.

“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.

you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.

the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.

once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.

you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."

"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"

"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-

"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"

"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.

"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."

you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.

"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."

you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.

"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."

"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"

she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.

"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.

"ab's, fuck, please."

"please what? use your words, beautiful."

"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."

she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.

your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.

before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."

all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.

you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.

you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.

"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."

she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.

"whatever you say, bunny."

when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.

quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.

you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.

"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"

"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."

and right about now that didnt sound too bad.

[trickphotography2]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader, callsign Ladybug (story from Jake's POV)

Word count: 12.8k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: Jake's not entirely sure how the bet came about other than being too drunk and maybe a little bored at the Fourth of July party. But after shaking on it with Yale, he agrees to help the new WSO - Ladybug - out with her crush on Rooster and figure out how to get the two of them to the Navy Ball together. With four months to get it done, it'll be simple. But when the reserved aviator is harder to get to know than expected, Jake has to push her to get out of her own way.

Written for @sorchathered Rom-Com challenge, with a prompt of She's All That

Warning: This fic does include angst (mentions of drunk driving and the aftermath, PTSD, loss of consciousness, and toxic men) with fluff

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

---------------------------------------

The Hard Deck was busy for a Monday, which suited Jake just fine as long as he still had access to the dartboard and could flirt with some of the fresher faces while avoiding his previous mistakes. After a long day in the classroom, he was ready to let off some steam, and the pretty blonde thing by the bar looked like she’d do nicely. 

Downing the rest of his beer, he threw his last three darts, ending the game against Coyote with a decisive win and making his way to the bar. Yale and Omaha were there, but the rest of the Daggers were huddled by the pool table. As he passed, he could hear Phoenix telling everyone about the new WSO she was sponsoring that was finally arriving after her orders got pushed back - he still didn’t understand why she volunteered for the extra duty. Sponsors were great, but unless you had kids, getting established on a new base wasn’t hard - show up on time, figure out your housing, and report to command ASAP. There was no need to have someone hold your hand through the process. But that was just his opinion. If Phoenix wanted to spend her spare time being pen pals with folks moving to San Diego and running around to help them get settled, more power to her. 

Getting the blonde’s number was hardly a challenge, and she grinned at him while walking away to rejoin her friends. Jake motioned to Jimmy for another beer, and the older man quickly slid one over the counter. Moving closer to his fellow aviators, Jake leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. “Found yourself another tag chaser?” Yale chuckled, sipping his drink.

“Like shootin’ fish in a barrel,” Jake shrugged and smiled as the girl looked at him again. He threw a wink for good measure and saw how the friend group giggled.

The front door opened, and his eyes darted to the woman walking in. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her khakis, the god-awful birth control glasses that Bob also favored would have given her away as military. Jake let his gaze rake over the unfamiliar woman, clocking the double bars and wings as she looked around nervously. And then he heard Phoenix call out, and she looked up. 

Omaha looked up from his drink, tracking the woman as well. “Shit,” he hisses through his teeth before lifting his glass and taking a swig. “That’s Ladybug?” Twisting, Jake watched her reach Phoenix, who seemed to be introducing her to the rest of the crew.

“Ladybug?” Yale asked, straightening from where he leaned against the bar. His eyes tracked her as she moved, barely hiding a sneer behind his drink. 

“My new backseater,” Omaha sighed. Since Halo had gotten orders to Pensacola, the aviator had been waiting for his new WSO to arrive. 

“And would you look at that - girl’s swingin’ way out of her league.” Even from across the bar, Jake could see Ladybug blushing as she talked to Rooster and reached up to adjust her glasses. Phoenix, standing between them, caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Smirking, he turned away, his attention settling back on the table of women who weren’t subtle about their looking at him. Lifting his beer, he grinned around the mouth of the bottle before slapping the bar and pushing away from it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents - looks like I’ve got an audience.” 

It was still early when he closed out his and Kristen’s tabs, and Jake reflexively looked back toward where the Daggers hung out. Most were still there, but he noted that Ladybug had already left. The scowl Phoenix shot him when she sensed his gaze let him know he’d get an earful tomorrow about not welcoming the new kid, but he’d deal with it.  

“Ready?” Kristen purred, running her hand up his back as she came alongside him. Grinning down at her, he nodded before signing his receipt and shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

“Let’s get outta here.” 

Weeks bled past, punctuated by a party at Payback’s for the Fourth of July. As the married man in the crew, the Fitch family was always happy to host.

And while Jake wasn’t purposefully keeping tabs on Ladybug - “Bug is fine,” she’d told everyone - he started to notice her absence more. While in the Ready Room, she often looked out the window and listened to the radio chatter while others played foosball and messed around. Omaha said she was good but missed Halo and joking around in the cockpit. Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones to get her to open up and crack a rare smile. She didn’t join them at lunch in the cafeteria or for drinks at the Hard Deck. 

And every time Rooster got near her, she got flustered. Her usual reserve and cool seemed to disappear, and she either clammed up or rambled. 

So, seeing her show up at the party with a fruit platter was surprising. Payback’s wife, Maria, quickly offered her a drink, and Bug joined Phoenix and her girlfriend, Kerri. From the grill, Jake watched as she mingled, and he wondered how she was wearing jeans on a day when the temperature was already reaching the mid-80s. Most of the other women had opted for shorts or summer dresses - god, he loved summer dress season - but Bug’s only concession to the heat seemed to be a short-sleeved shirt and occasionally pressing her cold soda can to her neck.

“I gotta ask,” Kerri said, her arm looping through Bug’s as they walked into the kitchen to grab food. “What’s the story behind Ladybug? Nat told me there’s always a story behind the callsign.” While assembling his burger, Jake found himself listening to their conversation.

“I, uh… I worked with a lot of…new… pilots when I was starting. There were a couple of close calls and,” she shrugged. “Ladybugs are good luck.” 

“Shit,” Rooster said, glancing up from spooning pasta salad onto his plate. He grinned, a sunburn already appearing on his face. “I remember you on the Ford now - you were the WSO with the kid just out of FRS who panicked when his landing gear got stuck and nearly skidded into the ocean.” 

Bug’s eyes were big behind her glasses as she flushed, pouring chips onto the table when she missed her plate. Quickly, she set the bag down and cleaned up her mess while muttering, “Yeah.” 

“Damn. That was a bad one - thought he was gonna ram the back of the carrier at first.” Rooster put down his plate and lifted his hands to demonstrate. “I heard the pilot started descent without realizing his front gear wasn’t down, missed the tailhook, and almost didn’t accelerate fast enough to recover. They circled and had to dump fuel while they got the barricades up, but they came in too low and nearly clipped the back of the ship before finally skidding in.” 

“Jesus!” Kerri said, looking at Bug. “Seriously?”

“It was his first carrier landing,” the woman replied with a shrug. “He got better.” 

“After we all had to sit through a lecture on the basics of landing,” Rooster smirked while grabbing his plate and throwing a wink at Bug, who flushed bright red. “Didn’t you both have to sit front and center for that one?”

“It was a good refresher.”

“He still flying?” Jake asked, biting into a carrot stick. Bug’s eyes flashed with something before her gaze dropped to her plate. 

“Not anymore,” she said softly, quickly heading back outside with her plain burger and a handful of chips. He and Rooster exchanged glances as Kerri got a worried look on her face. 

The drinks flowed, and Jake enjoyed himself as he hung out with his buddies. As fun as it was to have Mav around, it was also really nice when the soon-to-be-Admiral chose to hang out with his wife and stepdaughter, allowing the younger crowd to cut loose. Payback and Maria had already offered anyone who'd drank too much a safe space to crash, and Jake would take advantage of it. He and Yale went shot-for-shot in beer pong, and his tongue was red from the jello shots he’d consumed. 

“She’s delusional,” Yale slurred, punching Jake’s arm and pointing to where Bug and Rooster were chatting. “Not hot ‘nough to pull an aviator.”

“She’s an aviator too, dick,” Jake rolled his eyes, watching as Bug pressed her cold soda can to her throat. The movement shifted her shirt, and he could see that she had the beginning of a sunburn on her arms. Squinting, he stared at the raised red line that reached the middle of her bicep, and, as though feeling his gaze, she looked at him. Her eyes darted down to her arm, and she quickly adjusted her sleeve to hide it, her face flushing. 

“Oooh, Hangman’s gotta crush on Bug!” He rolled his eyes at the immaturity, sipping his beer and anticipating the hangover he’d have in the morning for mixing alcohol. 

“You’re drunk. She’s a decent WSO and keeps Omaha’s dumbass alive.” And that was true. As much as he never wanted a backseater, he couldn’t help but notice how methodical Bug was. She was the first on the flight line doing her pre-flight checks, talking to the flight crew and mechanics about anything that felt off in the jet. She took thorough notes during a mission brief and conferred with the other WSOs to triple-check things before heading out. He knew that Mav was keeping an eye on her, probably vetting her for a reference to a test program. 

The conversation shifted, and Jake could feel his tongue getting looser the more he drank. That was how he was somehow talked into a dumb bet - that Bug would catch Rooster’s eye and go to the Navy Ball with him. 

And Jake would help.

Bug left the party before night fell, missing the impressive fireworks and sparklers they set off in the front yard. They had to brush debris from their hair and use the hose to put out minor fires in the grass, but thankfully, the only injuries were minor burns.

As he lay on Payback’s couch, Jake closed one eye to stop the room from spinning when his phone started going off. He ignored the few messages asking what he was doing and if he wanted to come over, wishing he was sober enough to drive home instead of listening to Yale’s snoring. 

As much as Jake wanted to forget his drunken bet with Yale, the other pilot was adamant they followed through because he’d shaken on it. And, never one to back down from a challenge, he reluctantly agreed. 

His first step was reconnaissance. With four months until the Navy Ball, he knew he had enough time to enact his plan once he figured it out. He knew Rooster and the type of women he usually dated. And it wasn’t that Bug was unattractive, just that she seemed not to give a shit what she looked like. Which wasn’t great because Rooster usually dated women who did. They wouldn’t have been caught dead in public without a perfect face of makeup, while Bug seemed content with eyeliner, not even bothering to hide the pimples that occasionally decorated her face. The few times he saw her off duty, she favored comfortable clothes over cute, and he never saw her hair out of anything but the regulation bun or a ponytail. 

However, Jake's most significant obstacle was her confidence. While Bug had no problems with her confidence regarding her job, the moment the conversation strayed outside anything to do with work, she seemed anxious. And if she was going to get Rooster’s attention, that would need to change. 

The first thing he had to do, though, was to gain her trust. Without that, she wouldn’t hear him out on any of his suggestions.

Which was why he found himself approaching her at lunch after seeing her sitting outside at one of the few tables under the trees that the smokers usually used during breaks. She looked down at her phone, occasionally tapping the screen as she picked at her lunch. “Mind if I join you?” Jake asked, not bothering to wait for her answer before tossing his heated-up chicken and rice onto the table and sitting. Bug gave him a surprised look but returned her attention to her phone, eyes occasionally flicking toward him as he ate and watched her finish her apples, cheese, and crackers. She blushed every time their eyes met, and he noticed she wasn’t tapping her phone as much. He was about to say something when she frowned, tossed her apple back into her lunch container, and tucked the phone to her ear.

“Hey, gimme a second.” With a tight smile, Bug gathered her things and shoved them into her lunch bag, slipping it over her arm before standing and walking away. 

Jake tried again the next day, only to find that Bug wasn’t at the table. Instead, he saw her walking around the building with her headphones in, her flight suit tied around her waist, and one of her sleeves pushed up. On the third day, he beat her to the table and saw her pause when she caught sight of him. “I don’t bite, Bug,” he called out and saw her shoulders tense. Her gaze was guarded as she trudged to the table and sat, not saying a word as she pulled out her container of apples, cheese, and crackers with flavored water. His eyes darted over her meal as she opened the container. “So what’d’ya think about the new group of trainees?”

Her hand froze as she dug in her pocket, eyes slowly lifting to meet his. “They’re cocky.” Her answer made him smirk as he reached across the table to grab a hunk of cheese from her lunch. “Hey!”

“We were all cocky when we got here. The instructors and Adversary students will beat it outta them.” Bug gave him an incredulous look as he popped the cheese in his mouth and grinned. 

“Clearly, they didn’t beat it out of everyone.” The steely look she gave him was the most animated he’d seen her. She slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a cracker. “You have your own lunch, Hangman.” 

“That’s not a lunch, Bug, that’s a kid’s snack. You need protein.” She ignored him and pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen. Chuckling, he opened his lunchbox and took out his meal, stirring the chicken and rice together. He watched her as he ate, smirking every time he caught her glancing at him and noting the rising blush on her cheeks. “Why do you hide out here?” he asked. 

“I hardly think sitting outside the office is hiding,” came her clipped response. 

“It is if you’re avoiding your squad.” 

“Maybe I just like peace and quiet while I’m eating.” 

“And scrolling social media.” 

“I’m not - ” Bug lowered her phone enough for him to glance at the screen, seeing it covered in text. “I just like to read in silence, okay? Do you mind?” Jake shrugged and didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finished eating, his fork clattering in the glass container as he tossed it down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“What are you reading?” 

“A book.” 

“Is it any good?”

“It’s hard to tell when someone keeps interrupting me.” 

“What type is it?” 

“An e-book.”

“No,” he chuckled. “History? Non-fiction? Biography?” The faded blush roared back, and she refused to meet his gaze. His grin grew as he asked, “Is it a sex book?”

Bug locked her phone and set it face down on the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin, lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want, Hangman?” 

“Nothin’. Just trying to get to know my new squadmate.” 

“You don’t have to know me,” she snapped, shoving her things into her lunch bag. “I already have a sponsor and a pilot.” Startled by her response and the tears glistening in her eyes, he pushed to his feet as she stood.

“Bug - ”

“Just leave me alone, Hangman.” 

For as close as the squad worked together, Bug was good at holding herself apart from the team. After slipping a note into her locker with a quickly jotted ‘Sorry’ and feeling like he’d regressed to high school, Jake left her alone. Losing a bet wasn’t worth being an asshole and causing a rift in team dynamics. 

But while she was ignoring him, it was good to see that she was at least talking to Phoenix. And, every once in a while, Rooster, who still seemed oblivious to her crush. Jake tried not to look at Yale whenever the two interacted, not wanting to see the mocking eye-roll the other aviator would send his way. The way she’d blushed and tripped over her boots when Rooster patted her shoulder after a run where Omaha managed to get tone on him with her guidance was enough for Yale to go on a ten-minute tear about her at the Hard Deck.

Jake had walked away. He hadn’t even stayed long enough to pick someone up and went back to his apartment, wondering what the hell Yale had against Bug.

An August rainstorm drove Bug inside to the cafeteria, and Bob waved her over to join them. The only seat left was between Jake and Rooster, and she reluctantly settled between them and opened her salad. Jake was happy to see bits of grilled chicken in it but forced himself not to say anything. He was relieved that Yale, Harvard, and Fritz had decided to go to the food court for lunch so he wouldn’t have to witness how Bug kept herself apart, how she picked at her food, and how her eyes were downcast. When Phoenix mentioned the upcoming beach trip, she didn’t hear the offer to join until Rooster nudged her, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Yeah, sure,” she murmured, not seeming to realize what she agreed to. 

Later, when they were in the desk farm, Jake saw Bug jump out of her seat and leave quickly, phone pressed to her ear.

And Yale glared at her while looking up from his phone.

Bug needs help and you’re the closest. Here’s her address.

Jake stared at his phone as he sat at a red light. Halfway to the beach, he quickly flicked his blinker to pull a U-turn and head back toward his house. Bug only lived a few streets away from him, in one of the apartment complexes that had gone up over the last year.

He spotted her standing by her car, phone pressed to her ear and lower lip between her teeth. Jake frowned when he drove behind her, seeing the tilted vehicle. Rather than pulling into a spot, he parked behind her and hopped out to see that two tires were slashed. Her eyebrows rose behind her glasses when she saw him, and she quickly spun to avoid his concerned gaze, her floor-length floral skirt fluttering. 

“Whatever is closest, I don’t care,” she said, and he could hear the barely constrained tears in her voice. “Yeah, two tires…. Alright, thank you.” He crouched and ran his finger over the puncture mark on the back tire, glancing up to see that Bug’s shoulders were up by her ears. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I told Phoenix that I didn’t need anyone here.” 

“Someone slashed your tires.”

“It happened to a few people last night,” she shrugged, slowly turning to face him. “It’s an annoyance, but nothing I can’t handle on my own.” 

“Was that the insurance company?” 

“Yeah. They’re going to tow it to a garage for me.”

“Alright, how long are they gonna be?”

“They said an hour, which probably means two. You should go and enjoy the beach.” 

“I’m not going, Bug. Did you call the police?” 

“They’re the ones who let me know it happened. One of my neighbors called them after he came out and saw his slashed.”

“So you’ve got the report number?” When she nodded, he ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’m gonna move my truck.” 

“Hangman, I’m serious - ”

“So am I. I can sit in my truck or wait by your car, or we can go inside, but I’m not leaving until they get your car. And then we can go to the beach.” 

“I’m not going to the beach.”

“We’ll see.” Bug’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, hip cocking to one side. He smiled at the sight, eyes snagging on the red scar on her arm. With his sunglasses on, she didn’t notice.

Her apartment was nice, in the ‘recently moved in and haven’t fully unpacked’ way. As she grabbed some water, he looked at the cart of books sitting by her couch. One caught his eye, and he flipped to a random page. 

Patroclus is breathing harder than the effort to hold our princess down requires, and his cock is so stiff, it’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t come just from foreplay. It’s fine if he does. We have all of tonight and tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jake looked up from the book and grinned, holding it so the cover faced her. “I didn’t realize you were reading porn at lunch.” 

“It’s not porn,” she snapped, reaching for the book. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he held the book higher and read aloud. 

“I plan on tucking these two in for some rest after I fuck the worry out - oof!” He doubled over when her fist collided with his stomach, not enough to hurt but to startle him. Face bright red, Bug snatched the book from his hand and returned it to the cart, standing protectively in front of it. “That’s definitely porn,” Jake chuckled. “Good for you. Didn’t take you for a threesome kinda girl - ”

Bug let out a strangled sound before she lunged forward to press her hands to his mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up, Hangman?” Fighting back the urge to lick her palm, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth, unable to keep from grinning. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Bug. I won’t tell anyone that you avoid talking to us so you can spend your lunch reading sexy - ”

“Thanks for stopping by; now get the hell out of my house,” she cut him off, ripping her hand out of his hold and pressing it to his shoulder, trying to turn him toward the door. He shook her off, choosing to collapse onto the couch instead. She glared at him briefly before sighing heavily as he reached for one of the water glasses she’d dropped onto the coffee table. Sitting on the opposite side, she grabbed the other glass and ran her thumb through the condensation already forming on the sides. “You really don’t have to stay. The tow driver’ll take care of my car, and I don’t feel like going to the beach after this.”

“‘M startin’ to get the feeling that you don’t like us, Ladybug.” While his tone was teasing, Jake meant every word. “You don’t eat with us, you won’t go to the Hard Deck, and now you’re avoiding a beach day? Those are pretty much mandatory for the squadron.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Bug’s teeth dug into her lower lip. “I… I don’t dislike you guys. I just… there’s a lot of stuff that - ” Her cell started vibrating on the coffee table. Jake’s eyes shot to it, catching the name RISK and seeing a picture of a guy in a flight suit, smirking up at the camera and flipping it off. Bug snatched the phone up, eyes darting toward him. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Quickly, she stood while answering it and walking toward her bedroom. “Hey, how’s it - ”

The door closed, muffling her voice. Jake stared at it momentarily before pushing to his feet and walking to the fridge to get a refill. While the rest of the apartment was pretty bare, the refrigerator was covered in magnets from across the world, puns about books, a few bills, and a couple of pictures. He recognized the man from her phone screen as the one with one arm around Bug and her head on his shoulder as they sat in the shadow of an F-18’s wing, hair a tangled mess with her helmet between her knees and a pair of glasses with brown frames perched on her nose. They were there in a group, Bug laughing while sitting on his shoulders and his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady at an outdoor concert, the hem of her dress sitting on his head. There were pictures of a softball team, Bug grinning with a bat resting on her bare shoulder.

And Jake realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile like that. 

That thought irked him. And it definitely didn’t make him pay more attention to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Sipping his water, his eyes darted over her small, neat handwriting, and his brows furrowed. Risk’s PT. Deposition. PCP follow-up. Chiro follow-up. FS reassessment. 

When the bedroom door opened, he was back on the couch, reading one of Bug’s books. Her eyes were red when she stepped out, and he clocked the fake smile. “Tow truck driver just called and said he’s pulling in.” When her eyes landed on the book in his hand - the Kiss Quotient - color rose in her pale cheeks. 

“Good timing. We’ll get that taken care of and head out. Harvard’s already texted me a list of things people forgot, so we’ll grab those at the store on the way.” 

“Hangman - ”

“Bug.” It was his turn to cut her off, the playful tone absent in his voice. “Come on. Give us a chance. If nothing else, Rooster’ll be there.” 

“Why would - ”

“I’m borrowing this, by the way,” he added, raising the book and tucking it under his arm while walking to slip on his shoes.

“What? No - you don’t want - ” The front door shut behind him, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Bug open the door and call for him to stop. He ignored it, going to greet the tow truck driver. 

It was hard not to pay attention to Bug after that day at the beach. She’d declined every offer to play a game, instead sitting on her towel and reading. She didn’t even change into a bathing suit - choosing to wear that long skirt that covered all but the tops of her feet and a t-shirt that gave her a farmer’s tan. The most skin she showed was a flash of ankle when she walked along the water with Kerri, pausing to pick up shells occasionally as Rooster and Phoenix trailed them. Jake tried not to pay too much attention when, on the way back, Kerri and Phoenix pulled ahead, leaving Rooster and Bug walking side by side and chatting.  

But she stayed through the late afternoon retreat to the Hard Deck, sipping cranberry juice and ginger ale. When she stood beside Rooster as he pulled his usual party trick of playing the piano, Jake tried not to notice how her skirt and his hideous Hawaiian shirt almost matched and pay attention to the woman chatting him up. He saw Bug looking at her phone a few times but only slipped away twice before calling it a night. She declined his offer to drive her home when he managed to shake off the woman - Jackie? - for a few minutes, and said goodbye to everyone instead of disappearing as usual. 

And now that he was watching, he noticed how frequently she left work early on days they weren’t in the air. The occasional wince when she turned too quickly to look at something, and how she sometimes favored her left side toward the end of the day. The handful of over-the-counter painkillers she took after they did PT and drove home before hitting the showers. 

She didn’t join them at lunch every day, but she started to make appearances, even though she mostly stayed quiet and frequently left to answer a phone call before the end of the break. And Jake found himself seeking her out at the smoker’s table. After he returned her book, teasing her mercilessly about the explicit sex scenes in the story, she just put in her headphones and flipped him the bird before going for a walk. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but the book had been hot. And it made him wonder what else Bug was reading, face blank as she sat across from him. 

The only one who seemed unhappy about the change was Yale. Jake caught the aviator watching her through narrowed eyes a handful of times and noticed how she went out of her way to avoid him. When he asked Bug about it, she just shrugged and changed the topic. 

The only activity she had yet to do was a night at the Hard Deck, so Jake found himself standing at her front door, grinning at her confused expression. “We’re going out,” he said, reaching over her head to open the door wider and inviting himself inside. 

“What? No, bra hours are done.” Laughing, he kicked off his shoes and spun, planting his hands on his hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, making the thin material of her t-shirt cling to the swell of her breasts and a thin strip of skin appear over the waistband of her sweatpants. 

“Come on, Bug. You need to do a Hard Deck night with us. Everyone’s gonna be there in a few, and it’ll be fun.” When she stared at him, he forced his smile to not falter. “You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun the two times you’ve been there before.” 

“I…” she paused and took a deep breath, eyes pinching behind her glasses. “I appreciate the invitation, Hangman, but I want a quiet night. I’m exhausted and - ”

“Just a couple of hours. Have a few drinks, play some pool, and then I’ll bring you home. Promise.” The longer he looked at her, the more his smile faltered. So he played his ace - “Rooster’ll be there.” 

Her brows knit together for a moment before her expression cleared. “I’ll give you one hour,” she sighed.

“Three.”

“I’m not putting my bra back on for three hours. Two or no deal.” 

“You’ve got it. As long as you wear something other than jeans.” 

“What’s wrong with jeans?” she demanded, squeaking in protest when he pushed past her into her bedroom. He flicked on the light, glancing quickly at her unmade bed and rumpled sheets before moving toward her closet. “Do you even know what boundaries are?” 

He quickly flicked past her flight suits and uniforms, finding what he was looking for in the back of her closet. Grabbing the hanger, he grinned while turning to see Bug’s scowl. “Wear this,” Jake said, trying to hand her the hanger holding a sundress. She stared at it, eyes slowly raising to meet his.

“No.” 

“Come on.” 

“No.”

“You’ll look hot in it.” 

“I’m wearing jeans or nothing.”

“Not sure why you’d be naked instead of wearing a dress, but I’m not opposed.” She blushed, shaking her head. 

“Goodnight, Hangman. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m tired.” Jake sighed her name, making her eyebrows shoot up. He’d never called her that before, and he wasn’t sure why he did it now. She was always Bug or Ladybug. 

“Wear the dress. Come out and have fun with your friends. Please?” Their gazes met, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. And, after a long moment, she reached out to take the hanger. Their fingers brushed, and he tried to keep his eyes trained on hers but couldn’t help but notice how her breathing had increased. The slight tightness around her mouth as she blinked quickly. And the subtle way her body trembled. 

“I-I’m going to jump in the shower.” 

When the bathroom door closed, Jake had the urge to knock on it and tell her she didn’t have to wear the damn dress. That she could go in her sweatpants and he wouldn’t care. That he was an idiot for asking, Yale’s reminder about their bet ringing in his ears as he drove past her street. She didn’t have to wear a damn dress to get Rooster’s attention, and she shouldn’t have a crush on a guy who was so oblivious.

Instead, he walked back to the kitchen, opened the cupboards until he found a glass, and helped himself to some water. He stared at that picture of Bug on the man’s shoulders. Her eyes nearly closed behind her glasses with how broadly she smiled, one hand holding a cowgirl hat to her head, the other thrown out to keep herself steady with a beer clutched in her hand. 

Jake couldn’t believe that Rooster wouldn’t remember a girl like that. Even without the makeup and smiles, there was no mistaking Bug. Behind those birth control glasses, he could still see glimpses of that woman in the WSO. And it bothered him not to know what had happened to dim that shine. 

He was a few chapters into another book he’d plucked off the cart when he heard the shower turn off, the blow dryer starting a few minutes later. Jake glanced at his phone to check the time, ignoring the texts asking where he was and if he was going to the Hard Deck. Instead, he set his phone beside him. He settled on the couch, leaning against the arm and making himself comfortable as he read about a group of guys who got together and read romance books to save their relationships. 

Jake was lost in Gavin and Thea’s story when he heard a throat clear. Sitting up quickly, he spun in his seat, jaw nearly dropping at the sight of Bug. But not his Bug - the Bug from the picture, standing in her doorway with a teasing smirk on her red lips and uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted under his open admiration, hand lifting to adjust the glasses that she wasn’t wearing. “Let me guess, you’re gonna borrow that one too?” 

“I…uh… yeah,” he nodded, moving to stand before her. She hadn’t pulled her hair back into its usual bun or ponytail, leaving it down so it curled against her shoulders. Jake let his gaze dance down her body, and Bug’s shoulders pulled back under his blatant inspection, inadvertently drawing his attention to her breasts pressing against the sweetheart neckline of her dress. When she crossed her arms, his attention went to the raised red scar on her right arm, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing it with his fingertips. It was about the width of a pencil, curling from the top of her shoulder to the middle of her bicep. Sensing her discomfort, he tore his gaze away, allowing it to drift lower. Her dress skimmed the top of her knees, and he bit back a groan at seeing cowboy boots on her feet, red scars decorating the skin on display. 

Bug’s hand was clenched tightly around a jean jacket, and Jake could feel the discomfort radiating off her. But she met his eyes when they lifted. He wasn’t a makeup expert, but he could appreciate how her eyeshadow and winged eyeliner complemented her eyes, and he found it heartening that he could still see the little divot on her nose from her glasses. “Can you even see without your BCGs?” Jake asked after clearing his throat. 

The apprehension drained from her face at his gentle teasing, and Bug scoffed while rolling her eyes. “I hate wearing contacts, but I’ll put up with it for a couple of hours.” Shaking his head, he reached for her jacket and took it, holding it out to help her slip it on. His fingers accidentally grazed her neck, and he caught the subtle scent of something floral when she turned toward him. His eyes went to her lips like they were a painted target, and her voice was a little breathier than usual when she spoke. “I’ll meet you there?” 

“I’ll drive,” he answered, voice husky as he stepped back.

“I’ll drive so you can have a couple of drinks.”

He shook his head, digging into his jeans pocket for his keys. “You can be my WSO tonight and pick the music, but I’m driving.” That made her roll her eyes, and Jake had to force himself not to stare at her ass as she walked in front of him out of the apartment and down to his waiting truck.

In the dark interior of his truck, he could smell her perfume and gripped the shifter to keep from placing his hand on the expanse of her thigh that flashed in every streetlight they drove under. Seemingly oblivious to his struggle, she sang along to a 90s station about kissing in the moonlight. 

And, once they were outside the Hard Deck, she paused, her hand slipping into his for a fleeting moment. He could feel her shaking and squeezed her fingers before she let him go and stepped into the bar. 

Everyone would have paused to witness the not-improved-by-different Bug if it had been a movie. But no one seemed to notice them enter, and Jake reclaimed her hand to help tow her through the weekend crowd to where he knew the Daggers would be waiting. And that was where Bug got the recognition she deserved, when Kerri catcalled her, making a flush rise on her cheeks as Phoenix’s girlfriend took her hand and dragged her from Jake, encouraging her to do a little twirl. He saw a couple of glances at her scars, but thankfully, no one said anything. 

And Jake spent the night catching men checking her out, but Bug remained oblivious. When he went to the bar to get them some sodas - he overheard a conversation from two pilots about not recognizing her. “Now that’s the Bug I remember,” Rooster said as he joined him at the counter, setting down his empty beer bottle. Jake glanced at his wingman and nodded as they watched her laugh at something Omaha said to her and Fanboy. 

“Hey, Jake,” a somewhat familiar voice said, and he felt a hand on his lower back. A woman slid into the vacant spot beside him, smiling coyly. “Long time no see. Wanna buy me a drink and catch up?” 

For his life, he couldn’t put a name to her face, but he was pretty sure they’d slept together. Beside him, Rooster snorted and ordered his beers. Jake tore his gaze away from the woman and caught Penny before she left. “I’ll get two Cokes, please.”

“That’s not my usual,” she giggled.

“No, it’s my friend’s,” he replied. He shouldn’t have enjoyed the shocked look on her face, but he felt relieved when her hand lifted, and she disappeared into the crowd. 

But when he looked over to see what Bug was up to, she’d also disappeared. When he returned to the group, Bob said she’d stepped onto the patio to take a phone call. Jake sipped his soda and tried not to keep glancing at his watch, but his eyes darted to the back door. Yale arrived, pressing a beer bottle into his hand as they played darts, and he didn’t think before drinking it. 

Forty minutes had passed when he finally decided to look for her. The late September night was still relatively warm, but it was breezy by the water. The laughs were loud on the patio, but he didn’t see her at the tables. The parking lot lights spilled out onto the beach, and Jake caught sight of a flash of color in the corner of his eyes. His feet moved before he realized it, shoes sliding in the soft sand. As he neared, he could see Bug had removed her boots, her forearm across her raised knees as she curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. “It’s okay, Risk,” her voice was soft, and he could hear her sniffle. The sound made him move faster, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he neared. 

Sensing his approach, Bug lifted her head, and his heart broke at the sight of tears on her cheeks as she talked on the phone. In the weak moonlight, he mouthed, “You okay?” She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head, letting her forehead drop back onto her arm. Jake hesitated a heartbeat before draping his jacket across her shoulders and sitting beside her. The sand was cool, and he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his wrist and trying not to listen to Bug’s call over the crash of the waves. 

“Risk, I… yeah. But it’s getting… I need to…” she heaved a weary sigh, digging her nails into her shoulder. “I’m going to go, alright? We can talk tomorrow and… I told you, I'm with some friends toni - ” The voice on the other side of the line got loud, and she lifted her head to swipe at her eyes. “No, I’m not fucking any of them, Risk.” The words made his blood boil, but Bug just sounded so tired. “I’ll talk to you - alright, good… I know you’re upset, but I ne - please don’t say that…Risk, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

They were silent for a long time, the only sounds were Bug’s occasional sniffles and the tide coming in. A weight hit his bicep, and Jake turned to see that she’d rested her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm, tugging her closer. She was trembling, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he didn’t push. 

“Risk is…was,” Bug said, voice rough with suppressed emotion, “my pilot before I got here. W-we were really close.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that didn’t give him a right to say that to her, but her next words froze him. “We were in a bad car accident coming h-home from my going away party.”

“How bad?” Jake asked, not wanting to know the answer. 

“Bad. We were t-boned by a drunk driver and - ” she gasped, letting him pull her closer when she started to shake. “Rolled a few times.” Her hand lifted to touch her temple. “I woke up, and everything was upside down. I hit my head so hard that my glasses broke. But I was lucky. Just had a concussion and cuts from crawling out of the glass. Risk wasn’t… he…he was turned to look at me when  we got hit, and he took the brunt of it.” 

“Is he okay?” 

Bug shook her head, tears dripping off her face as she stared at the water, her voice sounding distant. “Paralyzed from his chest down. The docs think he might get some feeling back, but he’ll never walk again. Never fly again. They’re med boarding him out for that and the TBI.”

“Fuck.”

“One minute we were having drinks and he was telling me he was in love with me, and the next everything was literally upside down.” It was his turn to tense.

“D-did… do you love him?”

“Like a brother.” Jake nodded, pushing away the feeling of relief at her words. His heart cracked when he heard her soft sob. “He’s so angry with me. He doesn’t remember the crash, but I do. I think I was conscious for the first two rolls, and…he was so still. I thought he died. I thought I’d lost my best friend and couldn’t do anything to help him.” Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his arms, her knees digging into the sand by his hips as he held her. He could feel her warm tears on his neck as his hand swept her back, holding her tightly. 

But while he half expected her to fall to pieces, Bug just let out these little hiccupping sobs that broke his heart. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, whispering her name as his lips brushed her hair. 

“I should have let them ground me.” The words were so quiet he would have missed them if they weren’t so close. “I had to leave the day after he woke up. I stayed as long as I could, Hangman, I swear. But the flight surgeon cleared me for duty, and I had orders. I had to come here.” 

“You had orders,” he echoed. “He can’t blame you for that.” When she nodded, he repeated himself. “He can’t blame you for that, Bug.”

“He feels like I abandoned him. That I left my wingman. I-I figured you all would feel the same way… Yale does.” 

“What does Yale have to do with this?” 

“He was in our squadron before he got stationed here.” A chill ran down Jake’s spine, bits of information slotting into place. It was quickly replaced with anger. 

Gently, he pulled away from Bug until he could meet her watery gaze. Her eyes were guarded, exhaustion etched in every feature as he ran his thumb across her cheeks to try and clear away the mess of her makeup. “You did nothing wrong, honey. And no one can blame you for what happened - the accident or you being here. Understood?” When her eyes lowered, unable to meet his, he cupped her cheek and raised her head. “Understood?” 

“Did you drink?” His stomach dropped, tasting the beer Yale had given him on his tongue, smelling it on his breath. 

“Just one.” Bug nodded, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pushing to her feet. It took everything in him not to stop her, his hands sliding to her hips as she looked down at him.

“I’m gonna get a car.”

“I can drive - ”

“No.” He let his hands fall to the sand, hating himself for forgetting his promise. “It’s fine. You should stay and have fun.” 

As much as it killed him, he waited with her in the parking lot for her car to arrive, wanting to pull her into his arms but resisting the urge. But when she tried to give him his jacket, he pushed it back into her hands. “I’ll get it later and grab yours before I leave.”

Bug nodded, saying as she slid into the backseat, “Thanks for tonight, Hangman.” He waited until the tail lights had pulled out of the parking lot before turning and making his way into the Hard Deck. 

He wanted to get the hell out of there and pushed his way to the counter to close out his tab. Bug’s jacket was by the pool tables, and he threw down the pen to retrieve it after signing his receipt. Fury rose in him as he spotted Yale laughing with Harvard and Omaha. Without thinking, he stalked toward him, shoving the other aviators out of the way to grab him by his collar and pushed until Yale’s back hit the wall. Jake ignored the ‘Hey!’s and ‘Whoa!’s, the hands trying to pull him away as he leaned close to hiss, “You leave her the fuck alone, hear me? Leave her alone, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

Hands curled around him, yanking him away, and Rooster banded an arm around his chest while Harvard stepped between them, holding back his pilot. The bar quieted in anticipation of a fight, but Jake only had eyes for Yale, who grinned. “Finally told you, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind.” 

Rooster pulled hard, Payback catching his arm when he raised his fist. “Come on, man,” Rooster grunted, hauling him away. “It’s not worth it.” 

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as he shook off the other men. Grabbing Bug’s jacket, he stormed out of the bar, avoiding Penny and Mav’s gaze and the whispers that followed. 

Bug’s jacket sat on his front seat as Jake drove into work on Monday. He’d texted to check on her over the weekend, but she told him she was okay and didn’t want to see anyone. His phone had been blown up with the other Daggers trying to figure out what happened on Friday, but Jake didn’t know how to tell them without sharing Bug’s story - and that wasn’t his to tell. 

The morning briefing was short, and they were dismissed to the Ready Room to prepare for their flights. Jake was going up in the first group. But before he headed out to the flight line, he stopped Bug on her way out of the classroom. “I’m fine,” she said, answering his unasked question. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and the silent request for him to not say anything. So he didn’t. Other than telling her that her jacket was in his car, Jake asked if she’d brought lunch or a kid’s snack. That earned him a tired smile, and she said she would have to buy lunch today. 

But they wouldn’t get that opportunity.

Bug went up in the second group, and Jake listened to the radio chatter while lounging on the couch. He was happy to have gotten tone on Yale and Harvard, pulling riskier moves that Cyclone wasn’t pleased with, but it had been definitely worth it to hear the asshole cursing him over the mic. 

Their flight started routine enough, and Jake was helping himself to a cup of coffee when he noted a change in Bug’s tone. “Hey Omaha, you with me?” she asked after he’d pulled a quick roll into a dive to avoid Fritz’s attempt to lock on them, climbing to regain altitude as they neared the hard deck. “Omaha?”

“Omaha, come in,” Fritz echoed. “Bug, his radio out?” Even though they were out of sight, flying over the desert, Jake’s eyes flicked to the window.

“Negative, radio’s fine. Omaha?” He could hear the tension in her voice. 

“Shit - level wings, Omaha.”

“He’s out!” 

“Inbound,” Rooster called. The Ready Room was silent, and Jake didn’t realize he’d moved closer to the radio until he felt the volume dial in his fingers, cranking it higher. 

“Bug - status?” the tower called. 

“Losing altitude. Fuck!” Hot coffee splashed over his hand as Jake squeezed the paper cup, and he quickly set it down, shaking away the burning liquid at the sound of her panic. 

“Omaha, recover!” the tower yelled. “Someone give me details. 

“55 nose low, 67 bank,” Fanboy called out. 

“They’re diving,” Phoenix breathed. Jake felt a hand on his shoulder but couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but listen to Bug’s panting breath over the radio. 

“Come on, Omaha,” Payback barked. 

And then Jake heard it - Bitchin’ Betty telling Omaha to pull up. “Punch out,” he whispered. His hand itched for the throttle and stick, adrenaline racing as he pictured the dive. As a backseater, Bug was helpless. There was no stick, no throttle. Just the radar, letting her know how close to the ground they were. Their speed. It was her pilot’s job to keep her safe. He was vaguely aware of Coyote coming up beside him, probably reliving his G-LOC blackout just a year ago. 

“Tone,” Fritz called. 

“8G, mach,” Fanboy called. “Alt 500.” They were nose down, headed toward the ground at the speed of sound. 

“Recover, Omaha!” Rooster yelled. But then one voice drowned all the rest, a scream that Jake would hear in his nightmares for years.

“Neil!” 

“Climbing,” Fanboy called.

“Back, I’m back,” Omaha panted. “Fuck.” 

“Knock off,” the tower ordered, scrubbing the rest of the exercise. “Alright, Omaha, climb back above 12,000.” 

“Payback, knockoff.”

“Fritz, knockoff.”

“Fuck, Bug, you good?” Rooster’s question went unanswered, so he repeated it. “Bug, status?” 

“Bug?” Omaha said. 

“9K and climbing,” came her shaky voice. 

“Rooster, knockoff. See you on the ground.”

“You good?” Coyote asked.

Twenty-seven seconds. Omaha had been out for the longest twenty-seven seconds of Jake’s life. 

“She’s good, Hangman,” Phoenix said. But he didn’t hear it. He focused on the radio, listening to the tower guide everyone back in. Rooster refused to land before Omaha, wanting to keep an eye on everything from the air. The room emptied, and he stayed there until Omaha alerted the tower that he was in the landing position. 

And then he bolted, sprinting past the others to the tarmac, barely restraining himself from running to the jet as Omaha landed and taxied. It took ages for the engines to stop and the canopy to lift. There wasn’t any movement for a long moment until Omaha stood, turning to look at his WSO. He extended his arm, and Jake was relieved to see her arm reach up to bump fists. His breath was sawing in and out of his chest as he raced toward her, barely skidding to a halt as the two embraced as soon as their boots hit the tarmac. “So fuckin’ sorry, Bug,” Omaha breathed. “Never happened before, and it - ”

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded, forcing himself not to shove the other man away, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to draw deep breaths. 

“We’re good,” Omaha answered.

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded again, gaze not leaving Bug’s wide eyes. Her face was damp, and he could see the imprint of her mask on her pale face, but otherwise, she seemed fine. 

“We’re good,” she repeated, her voice steady. But when he pulled her into his arms, he could feel that she was shaking hard and smelled the sharp scent of sweat. He was vaguely aware of the others arriving, their questions going unanswered as Bug rested her helmeted head on his shoulder, hiding her face from them.

“I’ve gotcha.” He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew they needed to make their way to medical. She and Omaha would need to be checked out and debriefed. Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him, and Jake made himself give her a reassuring smile as he reached to unclip her helmet. Her hair was sleek with sweat when he lifted it from her head, tucking it under his arm. 

“Hey,” Rooster said, appearing beside them, glancing between the two. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Bug nodded, stepping toward him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Rooster.”

“‘Course. You ready to get checked out?” She nodded, glancing at Jake. He handed her the helmet and tipped his chin to where the flight surgeon was already talking to Omaha. It hurt to turn away from her, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes as he moved away to shake Fritz’s hand. Rooster threw him a look before tossing an arm over Bug’s shoulder and walking her toward the doc, stopping so she could hug Payback and Fanboy along the way. 

They spent the rest of the day in the classroom, neither Omaha nor Bug joining them. When Jake left work, he saw that her car was already gone. There was talk of getting together to have a few drinks at the Hard Deck, but Jake had no interest in going - especially not when Bob had quipped about another lucky landing for Ladybug.

He’d planned on going straight home and having a glass of whiskey. It was his preferred way to wind down after a hard day, and this one hit harder than most. It wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost a wingman, and he knew it would take some time to shake, but this time was… different. 

This time, it was Bug.

Jake was parking at her apartment and knocking on her door before he realized it. His fist collided with the metal when she didn’t answer. “Bug, it’s me,” he called. She was there - her car was in its spot. But she didn’t answer. He banged again, then rested his forehead on the door, calling her name. When he heard the flick of the lock, he straightened. 

Bug’s eyes were red when they met his, her hair a tangled mess on her shoulders. She was still in her flight suit, the sleeves tied around her waist and her black undershirt discolored with sweat. They stared at one another for a heartbeat before Jake stepped closer, cupped her face, and kissed her. His lips were rough against hers, and he took advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen it. Her hand carded in his hair and he walked them into her apartment, pausing only long enough to kick the door closed. He moved his hand to curl around her neck, guiding her to just the right spot while his other hand slid under her shirt, wanting to reassure himself that she was alright. Bug moaned as his hand curved around her waist, fingers digging in and pulling her close enough to feel her heart beating against his. 

Jake tasted spearmint on her tongue and, when they broke apart to catch their breath, the salt on her skin as his lips sealed on her throat. His fingers curled in her hair, tugging lightly to encourage her to give him more access as he nipped and soothed the hurt with his tongue. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

“Don’t scare me like that, honey,” he whispered, relishing the soft whimper she let out. “Can’t do that to me.” 

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “It was just like the crash. I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His mouth covered hers, unwilling and unable to think about her being in situations where he couldn’t do anything to help. Standing by the radio and listening, being helpless, had been the worst kind of torture.

They froze when there was a knock on the door. And then Jake felt as though he’d been doused in cold water when he heard Rooster call out, “Bug?” He pulled away and stared at her, taking in her kiss-swollen lips and the red marks he’d left on her throat. “Bug?” 

“J-just a minute,” she called back. The glint in her eye dimmed slightly as he stepped away, dropping his hands from her body. Jake ran a hand down his face before licking his lips, savoring the taste of her mouth, tongue, and lip balm before he cleared his throat while continuing to back away.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“You don’t have to - ”

Jake didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, turning on his heel to open the door. Rooster took a step back, surprise written across his face, as he pushed past him and hurried toward his truck.

He’d fucked up, and he knew it. 

Jake hated himself, but he wasn’t sure what for - kissing Bug or leaving her. Probably a bit of both. 

But he definitely hated himself for going out of his way to avoid her. For seeing the hurt in her eyes, knowing that he caused it, and doing nothing to make it better. Actively making it worse when she sought him out - avoiding her at lunch and flirting with a woman the night Bug surprised everyone by showing up at the Hard Deck. He knew it was a dick move to walk the woman to her car, leaving her disappointed when he said goodnight without so much as a peck on the cheek. Jake knew what it looked like when he climbed into his truck and drove away rather than going back inside. He spent the rest of the night alone in bed, trying to forget the taste of Bug’s skin, only to paste on a fake smile and whistle as he strode into work the following morning. Bug hadn’t looked at him all day, but he’d definitely caught angry glances from the others.  

It had taken everything in him not to stand on the tarmac the first time she climbed back into a jet and watch the entire flight. Instead, he forced himself to play foosball with Coyote and pretended not to listen closely to her on the radio.  

If there was a benefit to Jake denying himself her company, it was that Bug was getting closer to the rest of the squad. She was eating lunch with them when he dodged her, eating outside or in his truck. She was joining them at the gym instead of sneaking away. The first day he saw her in running shorts instead of pants, Jake wanted to go to his knees in front of her and kiss every scar on her legs to let her know how gorgeous she was. 

And she’d agreed to take the last open seat at their table for the Navy Ball. 

Jake wasn’t sure if he would go until a few hours before it started when Phoenix texted that she’d castrate him if he skipped. So he ironed his dress blues and shaved, promising to leave right after the ceremony and dinner. He didn’t even get his truck washed before heading to the hotel, tossing his keys to the valet, and going straight for the cash bar. 

Phoenix and Kerri were getting pictures taken, and Jake spotted Payback and Maria chatting with Mav and Penny. Fanboy and Bob were mingling, and he didn’t want to sit at the table by himself, so he decided to circulate as well. He’d never enjoyed these nights but knew it was important to get his face out there and show that he was a good sport, especially since he’d be pinning on his gold oak leaves in a few months when he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. 

One more step toward his goal of being an admiral. 

When he was almost finished with his whiskey neat, Jake made his way back to the bar for another but decided to wait until dinner. But as he walked away, he heard someone call him, turning to see Yale motioning him over. “What?

“Just thought I’d rub it in your face that you lost our bet,” the other man smirked, pointing behind him. Jake glanced over his shoulder, watching as Rooster led a woman to their table and pulled out her chair before collapsing into the one beside her. His arm went around her shoulders, and he tugged her in to kiss her temple. “Looks like you didn’t get Rooster to pick Bug after all.” 

“Our bet was over months ago, asshole,” Jake spat. 

“You sure about that?” 

“It was stupid to do in the first place.”

“What, you betting that you could get Rooster to be attracted to Bug?” He frowned as Yale looked over Jake’s shoulder and winked. 

“You what?” 

He closed his eyes, wishing that it wasn’t her. But when he turned, Bug stood there, shock and hurt written across her features. She looked gorgeous in a tight, floor-length navy blue dress with some type of short, glittery sleeves. He could just see the scar on her arm peeking out, and he ached to press his lips to the curve of her neck. “Bug - ”

“A bet?” 

“Yup,” Yale said, clapping a hand to Jake’s shoulder that he quickly shook off, fists clenching. He couldn’t punch him here, not in front of all the officers, but he wanted to. “All a bet.”

“It wasn’t,” Jake said, reaching for Bug. She stepped back, her red lips pressed into a thin line. “It started out that way but - ”

“Just - ” she cut him off, lifting a hand to stop him. “Just stop, please. Don’t ruin tonight for me. At least, not more than you already have.” 

“Bug - ” But she was gone, pushing through the crowd and exiting into the hotel's main lobby. Turning, he faced Yale, who smirked into his highball glass. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” The other man shrugged. 

“You ever think I’m doin’ you a favor? That Ladybug might not be a good luck charm but a curse? Look at the other pilots she’s been involved with - I mean, fuck. Omaha’s never G-LOC’d before, and a couple of months with her as his WSO and suddenly he’s almost crashing?” 

Aware of the eyes on him, Jake forced himself not to lift his clenched fist as he stepped closer to Yale. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Gentlemen,” Cyclone said, appearing beside them. “You’re blocking the bar.” Jake lifted his chin and stepped back, feeling the air boss’s eyes on him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll get out of your way.” His eyes darted across the room and saw Rooster standing up from the table. Angry, he followed the pilot, intercepting him on his way to the men’s room. “Hey!”

Rooster startled at Jake’s bark and raised an eyebrow. “Hey?”

“Why didn’t you come with Bug tonight?” 

“Bug? Why would I come with her?” 

“Because she likes you, you jackass!” 

“Me? Bug doesn’t like me, jackass. At least, not like that.” 

“Yes, she does. She’s had a crush on you since she got here.” 

“Aren’t you two dating?” The question brought Jake up short. “Everyone’s kind of thought the two of you were together.” 

“No… no, we’re not. She’s not - she likes you. We’re just friends.” 

“Wow,” the other man said, crossing his arms and smirking. “I didn’t realize what a fucking idiot you were. Bug and I are just friends - you two aren’t friends. Or, at least, not just friends.” 

“But…”

“Wow. Phoenix is gonna love this,” Rooster laughed, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta piss and then get back to my date. Maybe you should go find yours.” 

Jake stood there for a long moment, playing the last few months over in his head. It had been a while since he’d seen Bug blush whenever Rooster looked at her. And, if he thought about it, she’d always looked confused when he mentioned Rooster being somewhere as an incentive for her to go out.

And she’d kissed him back. 

Maybe…maybe what he’d taken for an adrenaline crash on her part had actually been… 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing that maybe Bug did actually like him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d caught feelings over the last few months. And she thought he’d only talked to her because of a bet. 

She ignored his phone calls, and he couldn’t find her anywhere in the hotel. He was about to get his car back from the valet and drive to her apartment when he saw her walking back into the ballroom and had to force himself not to run after her. Bug settled at their table, taking a spot between Kerri and Maria. Both women looked at him as he stood behind Bug’s chair and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Can I talk to you?”

“No.”

“Please?” When she turned away from him and started talking to Maria, he bit back a groan. He sighed her name and watched as a blush rose on her cheeks. 

“Maybe you should sit down, Hangman,” Phoenix said, smirking as she nodded to the seat directly across from Bug. Their squad had thrown in together to get two tables, and he was relieved to see that Yale was sitting at the other one. “Speech is about to start.” He sighed, rubbing a knuckle along Bug’s shoulder and watching the goosebumps rise. She ignored him, and he retreated to sit between Bob and Rooster’s date. Bug continued to ignore him as he stared at the pretty blush that stretched from her cheeks to her chest. He was paying so little attention that Bob had to elbow him when the color guard entered, and he saluted, not watching the guard but instead watching Bug as she stood at attention with her back to him. 

If asked, he couldn’t tell you a damn thing about what the keynote speaker said over their 45-minute speech other than hazarding a guess that it had something to do with the Navy and Marines celebrating their birthdays together. Instead, he watched Bug turn in her seat, occasionally facing him as she sipped her water. During the short break, he stood and tried to catch her before dinner was served, but she looped arms with Maria and retreated to the ladies' room.

“Didn’t think tonight would have a show with it,” Payback chuckled, sipping his beer and setting a glass of wine by his wife’s plate. 

“This is perfect,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her rum and coke against Fanboy’s. 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. When Maria and Bug came back, Maria tucked herself under her husband’s arm while Bug checked her phone. He caught the way her brows furrowed, and her shoulders slumped, finger hesitating over the screen before tapping it and returning it to her clutch. When her eyes lifted, they met Jake’s before flitting away to focus on the floral centerpiece. 

The same thing happened as they ate dinner. Jake had never realized how hot it could be to watch someone eat… that lipstick smudge on her water glass. When they cleared away dinner and cut the birthday cake, he grabbed them both a piece and fantasized about smearing the icing on her collarbone and licking it off. 

The DJ kicked off the music, and as soon as Bug put down her fork, he pushed to his feet and circled the table. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand over her shoulder. She ignored him, as expected. Her skin was warm under his palm as he rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “One dance, and I’ll leave you alone. Promise.” Bug sighed, and Jake grinned when she grabbed her napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table. He pulled her chair back, chuckling when she ignored his offered hand. 

“One dance,” she said, holding up a finger before walking to the dance floor. She waited expectantly for him at the side, and he took her hand, leading her to the middle of the floor where they could hide in the crowd from their friend’s prying eyes. But even as she stepped into his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other in his, she didn’t look at him. 

“Bug, I’m sorry.” When she didn’t say anything, he forged ahead. “The bet was stupid, and I made it before I really knew you.”

“When?” 

“What?”

“When did you make the bet?” 

“The Fourth of July.” He watched her lips press into a thin line as they swayed to an old song, her eyes fixed on his medals rather than meeting his eyes. Jake sighed, “We were drunk, and it was stupid, and I don’t even know why I did it. And it was before I knew that you and Yale even knew each other before this. But, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m sorry that I made the stupid bet, but I’m also not.”

Bug pulled them to a stop, anger flashing in her eyes as she finally looked at him. “You’re not sorry?”

“No,” he smiled, applying gentle pressure to her lower back and pulling her closer. She resisted. “You promised me one dance, Bug, and it’s not over.” Reluctantly, she stepped closer and resumed their awkward dance. “I’m not sorry, at least not entirely, because I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to talk to you if I hadn’t been tryin’ to set you up with Rooster. You’re not the easiest person to get to know.” 

“Are you blaming me?” 

“No, just stating a fact. You avoided talking to any of us about anything other than work. If it wasn’t for the bet, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you - I’d only know Ladybug.” 

“I am Ladybug.” 

Jake smiled while saying her name, his hand lifting from her waist to trace the scar on her arm. “You’re more than Ladybug. Ladybug doesn’t read sexy books over lunch or think that apples, cheese, and crackers are a meal. She doesn’t play softball or answer her friend’s call even knowin’ he’s probably gonna hurt her. That’s all you, honey. Ladybug’s great, but I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

Bug stopped for a second time, her red lips falling open as she looked at him. “What?” 

“I said, I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

“Even though you were trying to set me up with your friend?” she asked after a moment. 

“If you think about it, I wasn’t really trying too hard.”

“You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

“‘Cause I didn’t want to see you with him, but I want you to be happy. And if you’d be happier with Rooster, then I guess I can figure out some way to break up him and - ”

“Are you serious right now?” her voice was getting louder, and they were starting to draw attention. Noticing this, Bug squared her shoulders and stepped out of his arms, storming off of the floor. Jake hurried behind her, heart in his throat as they exited the ballroom and entered the hotel lobby.

“Bug, please - ” Spinning on her heel, she marched back toward him and poked his chest. 

“You… you jackass!” 

“I’m hearing that a lot tonight.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“Heard that, too.” 

“You don’t tell someone that you ‘think you’re falling in love with them’” - she made air quotes while throwing his words back at him - “and then try to set them up with your friend.” 

“How am I supposed to know? This is the first time I’m doing this.” 

“This is - ” Bug paused, ruby lips falling open as she let out a little gasp. Crossing her arms, she cocked a hip and pinned him with a glare. “This is the first time I think I’m falling in love with someone, too, and even I know that, you idiot. It’s pretty common sense.” 

Jake’s grin was blinding, and he hesitantly reached out to wrap a hand around her waist, stepping into her space. Bug tilted her chin to meet his eyes, her lip twitching as she fought a smile. “You think you’re fallin’ in love with me, Bug?” 

“Maybe.”

“Well… maybe I don’t think I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I know I’m in love with you. I think,” he leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he stared at her lips. “I think maybe I knew when you nearly burned in.” 

“Maybe I knew it then, too.” 

Jake’s nose brushed hers before he kissed her. This time, it was soft. Teasing. Testing the waters. They pulled away to stare at one another for a heartbeat before Bug threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to lick into his mouth. Jake smiled, his arms going around her waist and pulling her close, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. And then, just like before, they were interrupted. But this time, it was by a catcall. 

“Finally!” Rooster laughed. 

“Get a room, you two!” Phoenix ordered before kissing her girlfriend’s cheek. 

Bug and Jake looked at one another, and she reached up to wipe the red lipstick from his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she said, “I do have one… a room. Here. If you wanted to.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned. “Let’s go.” Her blush deepened as she pushed onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

“So… you should know that I’ve only slept with one person. And only once. Just in case it’s not…so you don’t get your expectations too high.” 

Jake stared down at her, forcing his jaw not to drop. “Bug, please tell me he at least made you cum.” Rather than answer, she pressed her lips together tightly, and he groaned again. 

“I have so much to teach you, honey. Starting tonight. Let’s go.”

“My key’s in my clutch. At the table.” 

“Right.” He nodded, bending to kiss her again. 

“It might, um…have been a while. But I’ve read a lot,” Bug said, as though trying to assure them both. And Jake couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I know. I’ve read some of your sexy books. Want me to reenact them for you?” Bug’s breath caught, and he chuckled, pecking her lips. “Be a good girl, and wait here for me, honey.”

There was some good-natured teasing when Jake hurried to their table and snatched Bug’s clutch. He ignored it all, wanting to get back to her quickly.

But he did detour to the cake table, picking a slice with extra frosting. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: This one really got away with me, and I was shocked that I managed to write it in about 2 days. A huge thanks goes to May for beta'ing this for me and making sure that Jake still felt like Bug was interested in Rooster throughout.

I love the idea of Jake reading romance novels because his girlfriend likes them. Three that were mentioned here (in order) are: Wicked Beauty by Katee Roberts, The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang, and The Bromance Bookclub by Lyssa Kay Adams. You know that he would absolutely lovingly tease his partner about reading them, and then be blown away by just how much one can learn from reading smutty literature. There are definitely some book shopping trips he'll be treating Bug to in the future.

Ladybugs have historically been seen as a sign of good luck. I liked the idea of Reader having that as a callsign, as she wouldn't have anything to do with piloting the plane, but could serve as good luck for her pilot. Even in scrapes, she's there to help them out. For Risk, on his first carrier landing, she was able to keep him calm, and later in the accident, she was able to keep him stable until help arrived. For Omaha, she was able to snap him out of G-LOC by screaming his name. And for Jake? Well, ladybugs can also mean luck in love and expanding family.

A bit about the trauma in the story. Bug would meet the diagnostic criteria for post-trumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and probably should have been grounded for a little while. But disassociation from the traumatic event can help someone compartmentalize their trauma and get back to work (can attest to this from personal experience) - she was medically cleared by the flight surgeon and was back on duty. As of this posting, the Air Force is the only branch with a policy that allows aviators to get 60 days of mental health treatment without needing a return to duty waiver/clearance. Bug would have benefited from treatment, which might have further delayed her PCS and made Yale not hate her. She's not "cured" of PTSD by falling in love, but hopefully there's some therapy in her future to help her process the traumatic events. As for the G-LOC, there is no way for a WSO to take control of the aircraft, and the F-18s haven't been retrofitted with the technology to have autopilot reengage when the pilot loses control.

Risk would undergo the medical discharge process - "med board" - to be separated from the military with an honorable discharge following the accident, as he would be unable to preform the duties of his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). I don’t imagine him as a bad guy, trying to hurt Bug, but traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) can cause emotional dysregulation and aggression that can be hard to deal with.

If you're interested, this is the dress that I imagined Bug wearing to the Navy ball (not representative of how I think she looks).

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

Tag list: @shanimallin87

@roosterforme

@kmc1989

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[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Hangman Trying To Convince You To Go Out With Him

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Beer, flirtations, and teasing

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/N:) Wow! Look at me having a Top Gun idea in what seems like forever! I always love going back to movies I wrote so much for! But sometimes it takes a hot minute to get imagine ideas, but I had this idea a few weeks ago and it's been a little bit of a pain to get it from my brain into a post. But I finally succeeded and hopefully this makes the Hangman/ Glen Powell fangirlies happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Taglist: @chaoticcassidy, @the-marshals-wife, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

The Hard Deck was more rowdy than it had been in awhile. With the Top Gun pilots celebrating a hard won victory, them and everyone on base had came in to celebrate. It was busy enough that Penny called in backup to help serve the rambunctious pilots who deserved every drink they ordered. It wasn't often that she called you in, but when Penny did you knew that the night was going to be a crazy one. You had a reputation amongst the pilots, as being no nonsense and out right refusing any advances towards you before the navy men even finished a sentence. While the rumors kept the majority of would be suitors away, it only made the top pilots in Top Gun more bold.

With drink orders coming in so fast that you were barely able to keep up with them. Penny stayed close by picking up the orders you couldn't handle and ringing up tabs. You didn't pay much attention to the people that came to the counter until a familiar uniform caught your eye.

"Give me just a second and I'll be right with you," you handed off two beer bottles before setting into opening several more.

"I'll wait all night for you if that's what it takes," the pilot replied.

You stiffened, recognizing that voice. He was a notorious flirt and never knew when to take no for an answer. It wasn't your first time dealing with him and this moment would not be the last either. No matter how many times you shot him down he always kept coming back, always cocky and sure of himself.

A few moments ago...

Hangman didn't know the definition of the word defeat and he had his eye on the prize. And that was taking out the most difficult female bartender in the Hard Deck's lineup.

"Dude," Coyote tugged on Hangman's arm stopping the pilot in his tracks. "When are you going to give up? She's shot down more pilots than Maverick has and Rooster crashed and burned just last night with her."

"That's Rooster," Hangman scoffed. "I'm different."

"No you're not. What is this the third time you've tried?"

"Fourth."

Coyote rolled his eyes but watched Hangman walk away.

Now....

"Oh great," you sighed, "it's you again."

Hangman chuckled leaning against the counter, trying to get as close as possible. You took a step back, removing the last bottle cap a little violently and passing the drinks out. Grabbing more you glared at him sending a cap flying in his direction.

"Aren't you glad to see me," Hangman asked.

"Not particularly. I don't have time for you."

"And here I thought that the whole world had time for me," he smirked.

Rolling your eyes you turned away, another group of people calling for your attention. But still though you had walked away, Hangman stayed. His eyes never leaving you, watching you closely. You tried ignoring him, but when that didn't work, you glared. That only made his grin widen and he gave you a little wave. You slammed glasses down a little harder than necessary as your patience was wearing thin.

"Why do we have to do this every time?"

"Because," Hangman purred, "I don't like taking no for an answer."

"I noticed."

Watching you intensely while you grabbed another bottle of beer, you removed the cap and took Hangman's hand. His fingers immediately curled around yours and you slapped them back open, causing him to jolt before you placed the cold glass bottle in his palm, then wrapped his fingers around it and waved your hand in a 'shoo' motion. Digging some money from your tip jar, you put the cash into the register, 'Shoo. It's on me. Have a nice life Bagman."

Hangman laughed, defeated once more but not done in the slightest as he made his way back to the pilots crowding into one corner of the bar. Laughing at him and pointing fingers in his direction. What they didn't know was he was wounded, but not crashing and burning just yet. He saw that glint in your eyes and he had to sink the hook in a little more and he would have you.

Hours later and Penny flipped the sign and locked the door. You were finishing cleaning up the last bit of the bar when a check was waved in front of your face.

"Thank you so much for coming in and helping out," she said taking a seat.

"No problem," you replied putting the check in your pocket.

"I see Hangman has taken quite a liking to you," she grinned mischeviously.

"Ugh," you rolled your eyes, "don't remind me."

"He's not a bad guy."

"Sure if you like egotistical pilot maniacs. He's very obnoxious."

"Isn't that what makes him charming?"

"Absolutely not!"

Penny laughed before taking the rag from your hands, "Go on and go home. It's getting late."

"Let me know whenever you need help again."

Penny waved and you made sure to lock the door behind you. She wasn't lying that it was getting late as the sun had long ago set and quiet had settled over the beach. It was always a little creepy, especially the walk to your car. Normally you weren't scared but it was just a little off putting when no one was around and anything could happen.

"Leaving already?"

A voice sounded close by your shoulder causing you to jump and spin around. Hangman started to laugh at your startled expression, causing you to start punching him in the shoulder.

"Don't do that to me!"

"I was hoping you'd jump into my arms instead, I wasn't taking into account that you're a fighter. Can you please stop hitting me now?"

"Depends," you were fuming, "are you ready to stop being a jerk?!"

"Not particularly."

"Then I'm not done beating you yet!"

He let you get in a few more whacks before grabbing your fist and keeping a firm grip on it. You sucked in a breath, gaze flickering from his face to your joined hands back again to his face. He never stopped smiling.

"C'mon let me walk you to your car," Hangman cut the silence. The tension eased from your body and you tried yanking your hand away, only for him to tighten his grip. You huffed but relented, though you did start to protest when he intertwined your fingers together.

You could admit to yourself, that you did feel better that you weren't walking alone in the dark. Hangman had been waiting, not wanting to give up just yet as he really did like you. He just enjoyed aggravating you because you were so easily riled up.

"If you felt uncomfortable walking alone you could have said something to me," he mumbled rubbing at his neck.

"I appreciate it," you looked away squeezing his hand. "Maybe you aren't that major of an egotistical jerk."

Hangman laughed, releasing your hand so you can grab your car keys. "That makes me feel better then."

You unlocked the door and he opened the driver side door before you could even reach for the handle. Ushering you in he closed the door, letting you get buckled before leaning against the door. You rolled the window down and he stuck his head in.

"Thank you," you picked at the threads on the steering wheel.

"You're welcome," he tapped his fingers against your arm. "Does this mean that I'm growing on you?"

"Possibly."

"Think you could stomach a date with me?"

"I'll think about it."

"A kiss for your knight in a pilot uniform," he pointed to his lips.

"Absolutely not," you laughed rolling the window up causing him to hurry up and yank his head out. You backed up leaving Hangman in the headlights as he waved at you. For such a smug Top Gun pilot he could actually be really sweet. He wouldn't give up and you could respect that so for the first time you broke down.

Quickly rolling the window back down as you drove away you yelled out the window.

"Hey Bagman! Pick me up here tomorrow evening and buy me dinner!"

He laughed loudly, "It's a date!"

"Sure it is!"

You drove off, leaving an extremely happy pilot behind.

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 2 of 3

Part 1

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: A week after Ace's near-fatal crash, she finally wakes up in the hospital, recovering from her injuries. Rooster, who has avoided seeing her since the email debacle, finally gathers the courage to visit her. Their conversation is tense and filled with unresolved emotions, as Ace confronts him about the betrayal she felt after discovering he was behind the anonymous flirtatious emails.

This chapter contains themes of emotional conflict, betrayal, and recovery from a near-death experience. Expect tense dialogue and unresolved emotions.

The sun cast a golden glow over the runway as the Daggers prepped for another intense day of training. Jets roared to life, ready to take off into the clear sky. The Dagger Squadron was assembled, but there was a noticeable shift in the air.

Ace, usually vibrant and at the centre of their group, had been distant for the past two months. Ever since the email incident, she’d cut ties with Rooster, Phoenix, not really Hangman as he was her wingman so she forgave him, steering clear of their usual hangouts at the Hard Deck and avoiding meals with the squad.

Now, she focused solely on her flying. Her interactions were brief, professional, and limited to the cockpit. As she strapped into her Dagger and prepared for the upcoming dogfight training, the silence between her and the rest of the squad was deafening. Today’s exercise was set: a mock dogfight in the air, with Ace flying solo against Coyote in his own Dagger, while Payback and Fanboy flew as a pair.

The jets ascended into the sky, climbing higher until the blue expanse stretched endlessly beneath them. The radio crackled with orders as they spread out, the simulated combat about to begin.

"All right, Ace, you’re up. Let’s see what you got," Coyote’s voice buzzed through the comms, a hint of competitive energy in his tone.

Ace’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her fingers gripping the controls as she scanned the sky for her opponents. She banked sharply to the left, cutting through the clouds as she trailed Coyote from above, attempting to line up her shot.

"You’ve gotta be quicker than that, Ace," Coyote taunted, pulling into a sharp climb to shake her off.

She smirked, pushing her Dagger to match his altitude, refusing to give him an inch. Behind them, Payback and Fanboy weaved through the air, keeping their distance while searching for an opening to strike.

The chase was fast and relentless. Ace and Coyote danced through the sky, trading sharp turns and evasive manoeuvres. The thrill of the hunt filled the airwaves, with each Dagger trying to gain the upper hand.

Then, without warning, Ace’s jet jolted.

"Warning: Engine failure. Malfunction detected," the voice in her cockpit announced in a cold, mechanical tone.

Her heart rate spiked as she checked her instruments. Something was wrong. The controls were sluggish, her jet unresponsive to her commands. She tried to stabilize, but the Dagger began to spiral out of control.

"Ace, what’s going on? You’re dropping altitude!" Coyote’s voice crackled over the radio.

She fought against the controls, panic clawing at her as the Dagger dipped into a sharp nosedive. The ground rushed toward her, but her body felt heavy, her vision blurring at the edges. She was slipping into G-LOC—G-force-induced loss of consciousness. Her breath became shallow, her body unable to react.

"Ace! You need to eject!" Payback’s voice boomed over the comms, urgency bleeding through the static.

But no one saw her eject. Her Dagger spiralled, falling faster as she lost the battle to stay conscious. On the ground, the entire squad was glued to the monitors, watching the terrifying descent. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, and the others stood frozen, their eyes trained on the screens, waiting for the tell-tale flash of her ejection.

But it never came.

"Come on, Ace… pull the damn handle!" Rooster muttered under his breath, his fingers white-knuckled around his headset.

"She’s not ejecting. Is she unconscious?" Phoenix asked, her voice tight with fear.

Coyote pulled his Dagger up beside Ace’s, trying to get a visual. But it was too late. Her jet continued to plummet, the altitude rapidly decreasing.

"Mayday, mayday!" Coyote called out, desperation lacing his voice as he watched helplessly.

From the ground, they saw her jet spiral down until it disappeared from the screen. Silence filled the control room, the team paralyzed with shock as the realization hit.

"Did she—" Hangman started, but his words were caught in his throat.

No one saw her eject.

Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback, who had been up in the sky with her, were immediately recalled back to base. The radio buzzed with orders.

"Coyote, Fanboy, Payback—return to base. Now," the voice over the comms was firm, but there was no mistaking the urgency.

"Roger that," Coyote responded, his voice unusually sombre. He felt a weight pressing against his chest. None of them had seen Ace eject, and the sinking realization of what that might mean gnawed at him as he flew back.

The three Daggers touched down swiftly, their wheels skidding across the runway as they taxied to a stop. Before they could even unstrap from their jets, the rest of the squad came running, concern etched on their faces.

Rooster was the first to reach Coyote, grabbing his flight suit as he yanked him toward him, eyes wide with fear and questions. "Did you see her eject? Did she make it out?"

Coyote shook his head, face grim. "I didn’t see anything. I tried to get close, but she wasn’t responding. I couldn’t—"

Rooster let him go, stumbling back slightly as his mind raced. "No... no, no, no..." he muttered under his breath. Phoenix and Hangman rushed to Fanboy and Payback, their faces pale, voices rapid with questions.

"How low was she?" Phoenix asked, her voice trembling. "Did she even have time?"

"She was already in a nosedive when I saw her," Fanboy said, his hands shaking slightly. "It happened so fast."

Payback wiped his face with his gloved hand, trying to steady his breathing. "She didn’t respond to any of the comms. I don’t think she had time to eject."

Behind them, Maverick appeared, his expression stern and focused. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, he headed straight for the medical search plane, already prepared to take off. Without a word, he boarded, motioning for the search crew to follow.

"Let’s go. We need to find her," Maverick ordered, his voice commanding, though there was a heaviness to his tone that wasn’t missed by the others.

As the search and rescue plane lifted off, the remaining Daggers were left on the tarmac, standing in a tense, suffocating silence. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob all stood in a loose circle, watching the horizon, their minds racing with the possibility of what they might hear next.

Minutes passed like hours. No one said a word. The weight of what might have happened to Ace settled over them like a heavy blanket, each of them replaying her crash in their heads, trying to make sense of it.

Finally, the radio crackled.

"We’ve located her Dagger," a voice came through. "Wreckage is extensive... no sign of an ejection. We’re sending in the medics now."

Rooster clenched his fists, trying to hold himself together. Phoenix closed her eyes, a silent prayer forming in her mind. Hangman paced back and forth, unable to stand still, his face tight with worry.

Maverick’s voice came next, calmer, but tense. "We found her. She’s alive, but barely. She’s in bad shape. Get the medics ready at base—she’ll need immediate attention."

The relief was immediate but short-lived, crashing against the rising tide of panic. "Alive" didn’t mean safe. Rooster stepped closer to the comms, trying to catch every word, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Severe condition," Maverick continued. "Multiple injuries, possibly from G-LOC and impact. We’re stabilizing her now, but it’s critical. She needs to be flown out immediately."

Phoenix covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with tears she fought to hold back. Fanboy turned away, unable to face the others as the reality hit. Hangman stopped pacing, his fists clenching by his sides. The usually cocky pilot was quiet, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his posture was clear.

The medical team on base was already on standby, rushing toward the landing area as the search plane prepared to return. The remaining Daggers gathered near the runway, standing in a tight group, waiting for any sign of Ace. Each of them wrestled with their thoughts, guilt creeping into their minds—wondering if there was something they could have done, something they missed.

Minutes later, the medical search plane landed with Ace on board, strapped to a stretcher and surrounded by medics. They worked quickly, moving her onto a gurney as they rushed toward the base’s medical centre. Maverick followed closely behind, his jaw set, but the worry was clear in his eyes.

Rooster watched, his heart pounding in his chest. The brief glimpse he got of her was enough to make his stomach drop—she was pale, her body bruised and battered, a mask over her face supplying oxygen. It was clear she was hanging on by a thread.

"Is she going to make it?" Hangman asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

No one had an answer. The squad stood in stunned silence, watching as their teammate, their friend, was whisked away to the medical wing, her fate uncertain.

Phoenix swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "She has to make it. She has to."

-

Ace was rushed through the hallways of the base’s medical centre, her stretcher surrounded by a flurry of medics shouting urgent commands. The sound of her ragged breathing through the oxygen mask was barely audible over the hurried footsteps. Her face was pale, her body still and battered from the G-LOC and subsequent crash. The medics moved with precision, wheeling her straight to the emergency trauma unit.

“We need to get her into surgery now!” one of the medics yelled, pushing open the doors to the operating theater.

The surgeons were already scrubbed in, awaiting her arrival. IV lines were attached, monitors were set up, and the sound of beeping machines filled the room. Her vital signs were weak, teetering on the edge of stability. The head surgeon quickly assessed her injuries, noting the signs of severe trauma from both the high G-force and the crash impact.

"She’s got multiple fractures, possible internal bleeding, and signs of severe G-LOC trauma," the surgeon announced, as they began prepping for surgery.

The doors to the operating room swung shut, and the medics filed out, leaving Ace in the hands of the surgical team.

-

In the Hallway

Outside, the Dagger Squad sat in the waiting area, the tension suffocating. None of them had said much since Ace was wheeled away. Rooster leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground as if trying to make sense of the last few hours. His mind was racing with worry and guilt. He’d been tough on Ace, both in the air and on the ground, and now she was fighting for her life.

Phoenix sat next to him, her foot tapping nervously against the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn’t shake the image of Ace’s jet spiralling out of control, nor the sight of her pale, motionless body when she was brought in. "Come on, Ace," she whispered under her breath.

Hangman paced the length of the hallway, his usual bravado completely absent. His jaw was clenched, fists balled tightly at his sides. He’d been the one who set up the whole email situation, thinking it was just some harmless fun. Even though she forgave him, they still weren't back to normal. Now, guilt gnawed at him with every step he took.

"She’s tough. She’ll pull through," Hangman muttered to himself, but it sounded more like a prayer than a statement of confidence.

Coyote sat further down the row, staring blankly at the door leading to the operating room. He replayed the training flight in his head, going over every detail, wondering if there was something—anything—he could have done differently to prevent the crash.

Fanboy and Payback sat together, whispering to each other every now and then, though their voices were low and full of worry. Bob, the quietest of the group, sat against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mix of worry and helplessness.

The minutes dragged on. Every time a nurse or doctor walked through the hall, the squad straightened, hoping for an update, but the news never came. The tension was thick in the air, each of them lost in their own thoughts, consumed by fear for their friend.

Maverick entered the hallway, his face a grim mask of calm. He had been overseeing the rescue efforts, but now that Ace was in surgery, there was nothing more he could do but wait. He exchanged a few silent nods with the group before sitting beside Rooster.

“How is she?” Rooster asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Maverick replied, his tone steady but strained. He knew better than anyone how critical the situation was, but he didn’t want to add to their already overwhelming fears.

Hours seemed to pass as they sat in silence, the only sounds in the hallway being the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the distant hum of medical equipment. No one knew what to say, and the weight of uncertainty hung heavily over them all.

Every so often, one of them would glance toward the operating room doors, hoping to see a doctor emerge with good news. But the doors remained shut, and the tension in the room grew thicker with each passing second.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. The squad all turned toward the noise, holding their breath. A nurse approached, her expression neutral, but the look in her eyes was serious.

“The surgery’s still ongoing,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s going to be a long one. She’s stable for now, but it’s critical. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

“Stable,” Phoenix repeated, the word a fragile lifeline she clung to. “That’s something.”

The nurse nodded. “It is. But it’s still touch and go. We’ll keep you updated.”

The squad nodded in unison, though the news wasn’t as reassuring as they’d hoped. The wait continued, with everyone’s minds now filled with images of Ace in the operating room, fighting for her life.

Each of them sat, stood, or paced, trying to pass the time, but every second felt like an eternity as they waited for any sign that Ace would be okay.

----

One Week Later

The sterile scent of the hospital room lingered in the air, blending with the steady beeping of the machines that monitored Ace’s vitals. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Ace lay in the bed, her body still aching from the injuries she’d sustained, but she was finally awake. Her head throbbed faintly, and her muscles felt weak, but she was conscious—and alive.

It had been a week since the crash. A week of surgeries, recovery, and slowly regaining her strength. The Dagger Squad had visited her throughout the week, offering support and well-wishes, but Rooster hadn’t shown up once.

She wasn’t surprised. After the email situation, their relationship had soured more than ever. The betrayal she’d felt after realizing it was Rooster on the other end of those flirtatious emails still stung, even more so after the crash. She had expected him to stay away.

As she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, the door creaked open. She looked over, and her eyes widened slightly as Rooster stepped inside, his expression uncertain.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a little rough, like he had rehearsed what he was going to say a thousand times but still wasn’t sure how to begin.

Ace tensed slightly but didn’t say anything right away. Her eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and something else—resentment, maybe—but she masked it quickly, keeping her face neutral.

Rooster took a few hesitant steps toward the chair by her bed. He looked uncomfortable, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his flight suit as he stood awkwardly by the door, unsure if he should sit or not.

“I—uh, I thought I should come by,” he continued, finally deciding to sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar nervous gesture she had seen countless times before, but now it felt different. “It’s been... a lot.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, though the movement sent a dull ache through her head. “A lot,” she repeated, her voice flat.

Rooster winced at her tone but didn’t back down. “I know I should’ve come sooner. I just—didn’t know what to say after everything. After what happened with the emails and then... this,” he gestured vaguely toward her, indicating her injuries.

Ace remained silent, her eyes focused on him but her face giving nothing away. She wasn’t ready to make this easy for him, not after everything that had happened between them.

He sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know I screwed up with the whole email thing. I didn’t mean for it to... go the way it did, I didn't know it was you at the start either. It was supposed to be some dumb fun, but it hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Ace’s jaw tightened, her mind flashing back to the moment she had discovered Rooster was the one behind the anonymous emails. The betrayal still felt fresh, even after weeks of avoiding him.

“You have no idea,” she said quietly, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You have no idea how much that messed with my head, Bradley.”

Rooster flinched at the use of his first name, a sign of how serious things had gotten. She almost never called him that. “I know. I get that now.”

“No,” Ace interrupted, her voice stronger now, though strained from disuse. “You don’t get it. You thought it was a game. I thought... I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that. You led me on, Rooster. And for what? A joke? Some sick competition?”

Rooster looked down at his hands, guilt written all over his face. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just got out of hand.”

Ace clenched her fists beneath the hospital blanket, frustration bubbling up inside her. She had spent weeks—months—trying to figure out why she had been so blindsided by him. It wasn’t just the betrayal, it was everything leading up to it—the animosity, the tension, the constant bickering. And then, suddenly, the emails had made her think there was something different, something more.

“Out of hand?” she echoed, her voice bitter. “You humiliated me.”

Rooster’s gaze shot up, his expression pained. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ace exhaled sharply, leaning back against the pillows, exhausted from the conversation but too frustrated to stop. “And then you didn’t even come to see me. Not once. I almost died, Rooster.”

He looked like he had been punched. “I know. I was... I didn’t think you’d want to see me. After everything.”

“That’s your excuse?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “I’ve been lying here, dealing with all of this, and you just couldn’t be bothered to show up because you were afraid?”

Rooster opened his mouth to respond but stopped, realizing there was nothing he could say that would make it right. He couldn’t take back what he’d done, and he couldn’t fix the way he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “For everything. For not coming sooner. For the emails. For being an idiot.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between them. Ace watched him, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn’t know if she could forgive him—not yet, maybe not ever—but part of her was too tired to keep fighting.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Rooster added, his voice almost a whisper. He looked at her with genuine concern, the guilt and regret clear in his eyes.

Ace didn’t respond right away. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Rooster.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I get it. I won’t push you. But I’m here if you ever want to talk. I mean it.”

Ace opened her eyes, watching him as he moved toward the door. He hesitated for a moment before glancing back at her. “Take care of yourself, Ace.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts, the weight of their conversation settling heavily on her shoulders.

Please comment, like and reblog!

[maybefae]

Messages From Your Guides

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: Queen of Wands (Justice and Nine of Wands), The Sun (Four of Wands), Six of Pentacles (Six of Swords), Seven of Cups (Two of Cups)

Bottom of the Deck: Two of Swords, Strength, The High Priestess, Ace of Swords

This guide can be a more motherly figure or a very ancient deity that appears more feminine. It almost has a “Crone” energy.

It’s okay to be happy after you have had to put walls up against a certain person, people, or your family. It’s okay that you are happier after establishing boundaries, my love. Compared to what they have done to you, no matter how minimal it could seem, your act of standing your ground and standing up for yourself is justified. It’s okay to be happy. The scales of justice have tipped in your favor. You’ve always questioned why you had to suffer, that the ones who have wronged you seem to always be able to get away with things. But now that you get to be happy once, you feel guilty when you should feel like the weight is lifted off your chest. The shackles they had put on you, the thoughts they put in your head to make you stay small, are a far greater harm than you standing up for yourself.

It’s okay to walk away. You may regret staying as long as you did, taking care of people wishing to receive it back but never getting it in return. But don’t. Your heart and your love is a great power. It is something that makes you strong. You loved yourself enough to finally walk away. And there will be another that shares the love you have, all you had to do is walk away from the people who didn’t. 

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, Five of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Ten of Wands, Six of Cups, Eight of Wands 

Bottom of the Deck: The Hanged Man 

This is a very masculine feeling guide. “Great Oak” energy, strong and warm. This could honestly resonate with people who picked pile 2 from my recent week ahead reading. This is a very father-like energy, built like a brick house and someone who does everything with love. A full heart and very, very protective. You could have seen him as a kid? Maybe in a dream or you actually saw his spirit. He could come around as a certain animal you see whenever you are going through something, or it’s like you are the only one that sees this animal and no one else sees them around. He gives off the energy of a bear, coyote, fox, tortoise. Orange daylilies. 

This guide isn’t really one for words but for actions, so I will do my best to describe what he’s showing and making me feel. He didn’t like that he had to keep his hands out of a situation that left you defeated and heartbroken, because his instinct is to keep you behind him and deal with your problems so you can keep living your life with as much peace and happiness as possible. However, he is showing me that he was told not to intervene. 

But just know, he walks beside you on your new journey. He is very adamant on making me tell you that he’s extremely proud and you’re doing a great job. He just nodded and gave a few claps. Don’t let the fire in your heart die and keep your “childlike wonder.” “Everything you thought as a child is true…you are just looking in the wrong places/looking too hard.” The journey ahead is great and filled with merriment despite the lack of coins in your pocket. There will be another great shift that will happen in your favor but keep on trucking. All that work will pay off and you have friends to enjoy the journey with. 

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: Seven of Wands, Ten of Pentacles, The Spirit Plane, Ace of Pentacles, King of Pentacles

Before I pull any cards, you have a guide or guides that come off as very ambiguous. They come off as very angelic or air/light fae, sylphs. I just see light creatures/beings and hear giggling. They are very lovely and they can be tricksters, but don’t cause much harm. They are light-hearted and like to keep the energy of fun around. Now I see them dancing with each other. I also see an expanse of field.

Another note: Since you probably believe in them if you picked this pile, I have a gnome friend who also wants to say something. 

I just have the top row of cards out and they all want to talk. They already have a flurry of messages. They want to say that, yes, you did see/hear from them and you aren’t crazy despite what others have said. They see you as one of them and as a good friend. You probably don’t feel human most days and become very confused/distressed from the way life is in this realm. You operate more in their realm of living. They are also telling you that you are far more rich because of that. 

They just wanna tell you that you aren’t crazy, they keep repeating that. Your view of the world is most likely correct. Nothing makes sense, what you believe should be makes sense though. And there is also a warning here that all beings of this category aren’t happy. In fact, they are actually really angry. “Something’s coming.” They won’t expand on that but they want you to know. You will be protected from your guides! And it will seemingly feel like everyone around you is effected but you. And throughout your life, you may have felt very lucky because things may have felt like were dropped in your lap or life has been pretty easy and it’s because of them. They don’t know if they want thanks or not, but they will take your gratitude in the form of gifts/offerings!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, The Dungeons and Dragons Tarot Deck by Adam Lee and Fred Gissubel, Cosma Visions Oracle by James R. Eads

Dividers: @inklore

[teapartyprincess4two]

nick x yapper!bsf!reader is a must

Talkative- N. Sturniolo

pairing: Yapper!reader x BestFriend!Nick

classification: platonic SFW head cannons

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing (bitch is said too many times)

inspiration: request^^

summary: head cannons of Nick with a yapper bff!

Talkative- M. Sturniolo (Matt’s Version)

Talkative- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

—

☆SFW

Nick loves to talk, everyone knows this to be a true fact. No one has been able to keep up with his talkative persona, but when he met you, he met his match.

☆ You have a habit of barging into Nick’s room unannounced with your phone in hand, a bag of snacks in the other.

☆ “BITCH, YOU WON’T GUESS WHAT I JUST HEARD!” you announce, throwing yourself on the bed next to Nick.

☆ Nick rolls his eyes but despite your rude intrusion, he can’t even be mad. He’s desperate for the gossip, “I’m not guessing, just tell me.”

☆ “Actually… wait, let me guess.”

☆ You love teasing Nick about how handsome his brothers are. You don’t even have a real crush on either of them, it’s just fun to watch his reactions.

☆ A straw rests in your mouth, your eyes trained on the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen across the food court. You’re practically drooling.

☆ “Girl, what the fuck are you looking at?” Nick asks, following your gaze.

☆ “Oh just the sexiest man I’ve ever seen… well, after Matt of course,” you reply, a sly smirk on your face.

☆ Nick doesn’t respond, eyes squinting in annoyance.

☆ “Chris can get it too with that long, sexy hair. Oh, and Matt with his tattoos. I swear if they weren’t your broth—”

☆ Nick cuts you off before you can finish, “BITCH, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!” You burst out in laughter.

☆ You’re the only person, other than Matt and Chris, that can make Nick completely crack up with your witty jokes.

☆ “Holy shit, you’re actually insane,” Nick wheezes, wiping the tears.

☆ He’s clutching his sides, the laughter overtaking him completely.

☆ Your entire friendship is full of love, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not ready to playfully roast each other.

☆ When the roast is especially true, he shoots you a middle finger.

☆ “Fuck you,” he laughs, never taking anything you say too seriously.

☆ Sometimes you say things that Nick completely disagrees with, but he never shuts you down because he loves a good debate.

☆ “Nick, that’s literally wrong! How would the chicken come before the egg?!” you exclaim.

☆ “Where would the egg come from without the chicken?!” he’s getting excited, scooting closer as the debate progresses.

☆ “You’re so wrong, dude. Just admit it.”

☆ “IT’S LITERALLY THE EGG!”

☆ On the rare occasion that you two are fighting, he’s not in the mood to hear anything unless it’s an apology.

☆ His fingers are pinched together, the pinkie and pointer finger straight up in the air. “Quiet coyote, Y/n. Quiet coyote.”

☆ “Boy, shut the fuck up,” you laugh, shoving his hand away.

☆ He eventually gives in, rolling his eyes and preparing to listen to your rants.

☆ When you’re hanging out with a group of friends, it quickly turns into you and Nick talking over each other to tell a story.

☆ “Nick, shut up! Let Y/n speak!” Matt shouts, becoming tired of the constant interruptions.

☆ Nick pauses completely, side eyeing Matt in annoyance. You stop talking too because it’s not as fun without Nick’s energy to bounce off of.

☆ The two of you stay awake past midnight almost every night, your phones illuminating your faces as the FaceTime call enters the fourth hour.

☆ It’s just you two in your own rooms giggling and whispering through the phone.

☆ Eventually, when one of you gets tired, the other has to pull a conversation topic from the depths of your mind to keep the other awake.

☆ “You did not just say that,” you gasp, in shock at Nick’s statement.

☆ “Bruh, what you just said was worse,” he replies, a dumbfounded look on his face as he point to you with his hand.

☆ “Oh true.”

☆ You’re constantly interrupting him to take pictures for social media photo dumps. Whether it be off guards or full on photo shoots.

☆ “WAIT SHUSH! POSE FOR THE PICTURE!” you exclaim. Nick rolls his eyes, pausing mid yap sesh.

☆ Nevertheless, he puts on a smile and poses.

☆ “Let me see,” Nick yanks the phone, examining the pictures. If he doesn’t like it, he simply hands the phone back to you and poses again.

☆ Just like everyone else, the two of you have bad days sometimes.

☆ “Hey…” his voice is quiet, his head peering through your cracked bedroom door.

☆ You’re curled up under the covers, small sniffles escaping every so often.

☆ “How are you, bae?” Nick asks, throwing in a corny nickname to make you laugh.

☆ Your response is sarcastic, “Never been better.”

☆ “Bitch, fuck you,” he chuckles, but there’s no true anger in his voice. He kicks his shoes off and joins you under the covers, ready to listen to you recount your day and your troubles.

☆ Nick is ready to defend you no matter what.

☆ If he ever hears anyone talking badly about you, or even mention your name, he’s interjecting the conversation.

☆ Sometimes he doesn’t even know the previous context, but he’s ready to fight whoever is talking shit.

☆ Nick never turns down the chance to talk, even if he’s really busy.

☆ “I can call back if you’re busy.”

☆ “No, bitch! Tell me!”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: this is short, mostly bc it doesn’t have a NSFW section like my other head cannon posts (for obvious reasons). But I hope you still like it!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @hearts4chris @maryx2xx

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twelve

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None! Familiar faces return to Velaris and Y/n finally gets a chance to explore the city...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

I’ve been dreaming again. Dreaming of him. 

Thanatos. With his milky pale skin the color of bleached bones. Bold brush strokes of black ink mark his clothes and paint his hair and his marble eyes. I should feel unsettled when looking into the face of death. But I don’t. I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to see his true face and I don’t know why. He doesn’t understand it either, and it frustrates him to no end. 

He’s almost as curious as I am. Almost. 

He came to the cabin again today, carrying that black lit candle between his spindly fingers like he believed in the Mother and was prepared to pray and sing to her like the rest of us. He says he likes to hear me during the service, tiny and informal as it is, but really I think he’s here because it irks me, and because I’m some tapestry he can’t seem to unravel.

He asked me again whether I’d call upon the Mother for him. He says he has a question that needs answering, and once he has his answer, he’ll be able to tell me how we can defeat Koschei. If it’s even possible. 

But I don’t believe that male for a second. He’d sooner carve the world to bits and devour the scraps before helping us like the coyote he is.

Rest assured I will never agree to his bargain. It will take more than that to turn Bethsevah Mordeigh.  

Although he said something strange that night, when the candles had dripped and left their waxy marks on the altar. 

“You were made to ruin me, Beth,” he said, “And I will let you do it a thousand—a million—times over.” 

He spoke in a dozen different voices, but I can’t deny I liked how the sounds came together and became his own. 

You jerked awake with your hand still cradling the book against your chest. 

Bethsevah Mordeigh. 

You had a name. 

You had a name! 

You burst out of your room. 

“Az! Az! I’ve got something.” You beat your fist against his bedroom door. “Az!” There was silence. 

The kitchen was empty, dirty dishes scrubbing themselves clean in the sink. A glance at the clock above the oven told you you’d slept in a great deal.

You took the steps two at a time, sprinting down the hallway towards the west wing. The training arena took up most of the second floor stocked with enough weapons to outfit a small army. Wood and stone knobs stuck out from the wall at extreme angles as part of the climbing gym. The ceiling dipped up and down like draped fabric. On any other day you would have seen Valkyries with rippling arms and backs making their way up to the green flag pinned directly above the room’s center point, bodies straining against the pull of gravity. But not today. 

Two of the three mats spaced across the room were occupied and you heard the beat of Illyrian wings before you even opened the double doors. 

Feyre and Nesta stood against the side wall bracketed by racks of steel swords, glistening throwing knives, and an Illyrian bow as long as you were tall. 

Feyre licked her lips, greedily tracing Rhysand’s powerful form as he went toe to toe with Azriel. You couldn’t help but stare as well as they leapt around the ring in a blur of wings and shadow. You’d never seen Azriel shirtless but… well… it was a sight you could get used to. 

It was a dance — a dangerous, deadly dance — and although the language of violence wasn’t one you were familiar with, you could read the display well enough to know that Azriel would win this round. 

Sweat glistened on his skin, slipping down the curves of his back where leathery black wings fused with his shoulder blades. Tattoos wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest, pulsing with a life of their own as Azriel cleanly side stepped one of Rhysand’s kicks. There was the faintest crease in the High Lord’s brow to let you know he was getting tired. 

But Azriel was just getting started. And now that he knew you were watching? He wanted to make it worth your while.  

Rhys gritted his teeth, launching out with a strike quicker than lightning. Someway, somehow, Azriel was faster. He dipped to the side, Rhys’s knuckle just kissing his cheekbones and came up for a counterstrike, slamming his fist so hard into his brother’s cheek that he staggered back. 

That was unnecessary. Rhys snapped his jaw back into place.

Azriel grinned. Fatherhood suits you. But I can’t let you get soft.

There was a roll of violet eyes. Sure. That’s why you’re trying so hard right now.

Rhys snatched Azriel’s leg out of the air, rolling onto the ground in a move that sent the Shadowsinger twisting in a graceful arch that had your breath catching in your throat. He broke free of Rhysand’s hold, leaping onto his feet like gravity didn’t apply. 

You met his eyes, heady and dark, and could have sworn he winked. But it may have just been a trick of the light. 

You ducked your head, hurrying across the room towards Feyre and Nesta and hoping they wouldn’t comment on the flush creeping up your neck.

“Fey—” you began urgently.

The High Lady held up a hand and you fell silent. There was a sheen to her eyes that let you know she was honing in on Rhysand’s moves with more than just her eyes. 

Nesta smirked at you as you blushed. You struggled to keep your gaze from drifting back to the powerful display, even as you caught glimpses of Azriel’s tan body out of the corner of your eye. Rippling, bold, strong. 

“Don’t worry about staring,” Nesta said with a wicked glimmer. “The boys admire us. We admire them. It’s an even exchange.” 

One mat over Cassian was sparing with a new female you’d never seen before. Illyrian, but there was something wrong with her wings. They were held strong and proud above the ground, but they dragged in places where Cassian had control over every minor movement. If you concentrated closely enough, you could make out the thin, shiny scars that had snipped the tendon closest to the apex of her wings, just by the arch of her claws. 

Your stomach dropped with horror.

Her wings had been clipped. 

She held her own against the Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian might have had the advantage of experience and his longer limbs, but she moved with a daring determination. She dodged every blow by the narrowest margin, conserving her energy so when she was able to slip close and find her opening, she slammed her elbow up and into his nose with a sickening crack that echoed throughout the room. 

You winced, hands flying up to your face at the same time that Cassian’s did. 

“FUCK!” He roared. 

“Whooo! THAT’S MY WIFE!” A gorgeous, curvy blond hung off one of the ring posts, legs propped up on the tensioned ropes. 

There was only one member of their family that had ever been described as sunlight incarnate. That had to be Mor. Which meant the striking female currently giving Cassian hell on the mat was Emerie.

Emerie blushed, stealing a heavy look for long enough for Cassian to snap his nose back into place. He ducked down and swept her legs out from beneath her, wrestling her to the ground in a tangle of leather and wings. But Nesta didn’t let him have the advantage for too long. 

Cassian choked on the teasing words he’d prepared for Emerie when Nesta sent him a particularly candid image of herself in a strip of black fabric. 

For later tonight. She whispered down the bond.

Damn it Nes.

Emerie smashed her forehead into his already swollen nose, then her knee surged up with enough strength to crack ribs. She braced her foot against his chest and flipped him over her head and onto his back, wrapping her powerful legs around his neck and pinning him to the ground with his arm forced back in his socket. Finally he tapped out. 

“Poor Illyrian baby,” Nesta crooned as Emerie pulled Cassian to his feet. Despite the blood that dripped from his nose, he was glowing with pride at Emerie. “Better luck next time.”

Mor grasped Emerie by the front of her training gear and yanked her close for a long kiss that left the Illyrian stumbling back with red lipstick smeared over her lips and a dark blush across her caramel cheeks. 

Nesta yelped when Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground with one arm like she weighed nothing.

“We could try that move tonight. Your legs, my face? But this time I won’t tap out.” Cassian winked and Nesta leveled a sultry glare in his direction, eyes lingering on the sheen of his muscular chest with unabashed heat. 

“Get a room,” Mor called out and Emerie threw a towel in his direction. It landed over his shoulder with comical perfection. 

“Says the pair that had to disappear to another continent after their wedding ceremony.” 

Mor flung an obscene gesture his way and Cassian returned it with equal fervor. “Says the pair that made Azriel run for the hills when he was left to chaperone.” 

“Hey! That’s on Rhysand. He never should have left us with a chaperone at all.” Nesta cut in. 

“You rang.” Rhysand appeared sweaty and spent behind Mor’s shoulder and slung his arm around her. The bruises on his cheeks were turning darker by the second.

Azriel hovered on the edges of the crowd, glancing at Mor and then at you. He was mildly disappointed that you’d been too busy watching Cass and Emerie to see him win at the end of the fight.  

“Gross, get off of me.” Mor shoved her cousin away. 

Rhysand’s shoulders shook with laughter. He smiled at you, eyes gleaming with happiness. It had been so long since he’d last seen his cousin. 

“Mor.” He gestured to you, “Meet Y/n—” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I think I just realized I don’t know your last name.” 

“Halwynn.” You offered up your mother’s last name. Even though you technically didn’t have any right to it as a bastard, it’s the name you’d gone by your whole life.

“Meet Y/n Halwynn,” Rhysand finished. 

“The resident intellect,” Mor said, caramel-brown eyes shining. “Well thank the Mother, you showed up when you did.” She looped her arm around yours easily and you caught a whiff of the perfume she’d dotted against her collarbones — amber and vanilla. A ruby the size of your thumb hung from a gold chain, following the dramatic dip in the front of her scarlet dress that left little to the imagination. You thought she might just be the most gorgeous female you’d ever seen. 

“We’d be absolutely lost without you. I hope the Library is up to your standards, although let’s be honest, it probably isn’t.”

You agreed a little too quickly. 

“Bethsevah Mordeigh.” Rhysand turned the name over in his mind, testing its familiarity and coming up empty. “Any takers?” 

You all stood around Rhysand’s desk, the book propped open beside bottles of jet-black ink, eagle-feather pens, and neat stacks of parchment paper.

Everyone shook their heads. 

“Fair enough.” He looked disappointed, but not surprised. “We’re only separated by a few thousand years, give or take.”

You paced in front of the windowsill, nervously picking at your fingernails until they were under threat of bleeding. Azriel noticed and one of his shadows gently wrapped around your wrists and pulled your hands apart. You looked at him gratefully and stuck your hands in your pockets.

“The oldest text I’ve seen dates back twelve-thousand years,” Feyre offered. “I’ve also asked Gwyn and Clotho to begin searching.”

“What about the Day Court?” Azriel looked at you.

“I can ask Helion to search the archives. But I’ll warn you, records dating back that far are few and far apart. And priestesses back then were less keen on recording the movements of their members. But we might get lucky with some of her descendants if they ever joined the order. Work our way backwards through history.”

Mor shot Rhysand a look. “Why ask me to come back here now? I could have been of better use searching for this information on the Continent.”

“Now is not the time for you to be traversing foreign lands. Not with Koschei at risk of being let loose.” 

You shook your head. “And it wouldn’t matter. Bethsevah wouldn’t have been born on the Continent. If she ever went, it would have only been to trap Koschei. Our best bet is to search for information about her down south.”

The others stared at you in confusion. You blinked as if the answer was obvious. “Organized religion surrounding the Mother emerged in Southern Prythian and her priestesses didn’t spread out to Hybern or the Continent until the Insynthian Age.”

“Your point being?” Nesta folded her arms over her chest. When it came to the specifics of Prythian history, she and Feyre were about as useful as a glass rod in a lightning storm. 

“The bit about the candles is a very, very old ceremony. People would write their prayers in blood and have a priestess burn them on a candle made with a strand of their hair woven into the wick. If Bethsevah was a priestess performing this ritual, she would have been an early member of the order. Before the Insynthian Age.” 

“That would narrow things down significantly.” Rhysand nodded in approval. “I’ll reach out to Lucien, see if he’ll be able to find anything out for us.”

You pulled a sheef of paper out from your pockets and Helion’s pen. You scribbled down a note to him about what you’d discovered and within five minutes the words were racing south to the Day Court. 

“How on earth do you know this?” Mor asked incredulously, looking at you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

“I’m a Librarian.” She looked unimpressed by that statement. “I had a religious phase.” You smoothed your thumb over your necklace, feeling for your mother’s seal — a flowering heather and fountain pen crossed over in an “x”. 

“A religious phase?”  

“Yes.” 

She clicked her tongue, red lips turning up in a smirk. “You Day Court fae are certainly something.” 

You blushed. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything else.” You went to grab the book, but Mor’s hand slapped down first, pinning it to the table and you with a stare. 

“Nope. Work is for tomorrow,” Mor declared, eyes glittering with fondness. “Today, I want to see my city with my family.” 

You tapped the book through your robes, counting the rhythmic swings against your hip like a metronome. One. Two. One. Two. One-

Cassian leaned down to whisper, “You’re doing great,” before waving to a male with ash-blonde hair standing beside an apple cart. 

Pink ladies, honeycrisps, and ambrosias were piled high into luscious clouds. Two gestures and a flick of a coin through the air later and Cassian was shoving a small, flimsy basket in your hand. Roasted apples covered in burnt sugar and drizzled with caramel seeped into the wax paper. 

One. Two. One. Two. 

It was still too early for most of the Night Court, but the hustle and bustle in the Palace of Bone and Salt was unperturbed. Now was the time for the owners of small shops to haggle for prices without interfering with common business. The apple cart you just left had a new customer already — a wispy female with candy-floss hair lugging a basket on wheels capable of carrying three bushels for the bakery two streets over.

“Would you like some?” You held the food up to Azriel, but he only stumbled over a crack cobblestone street before shaking his head no. 

He was being awfully quiet today. Quieter than usual. 

Maybe he’s sick? You thought to yourself. He hadn’t eaten lunch either, but maybe that was just because he disliked the sandwiches you’d made. Or maybe it was because of a certain blond-haired female who kept giving him side glances with questions eating at her from the inside out.

“Come on,” you encouraged, nudging his shoulder. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Azriel looked at the apple slice you held out for him like it was a personal torture.

Cassian grinned and slung his arm over your shoulders, peeling you away from Azriel’s side to his relief. The weight was a comfort coming from him and you felt that thrill in your stomach whenever any member of the Inner Circle touched you. 

“Azriel won’t starve. I promise, Y/n.” 

Nyx thought he might starve. He was a growing boy, and had a stomach to match. He tapped your elbow and you wordlessly passed over the basket to him, but not before snatching a piece for yourself. The sugar crackled, then melted over your tongue, the sharpness from the apple cutting through caramel in a burst of tartness. 

“How is Helion doing by the way?” Mor dropped the question casually. “Rhys says you know him well.” 

You blinked at her. What did she care about Helion? “I’ve worked on a few projects for him before this one. And he’s doing as well as he can be, I suppose. Things aren’t exactly perfect in the Day Court right now.”

“Ah, Helion,” Mor breathed out, almost wistfully, “He was one of the few good males I ever slept with.” 

You choked on your food, sputtering and coughing for long enough that Cassian started to slap your back. You felt your bones shake with each blow.

So… Mor had slept with your father… figures.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you said meekly. You shoved more food in your mouth before anyone could ask any further questions.

Azriel felt that familiar pool of jealousy bubble in his stomach at the mention of Helion. You kept rubbing that necklace of yours, Helion’s seal displayed prominently like he’d personally stamped you as his. 

He allowed himself to get close enough to brush against your shoulder and a few of his shadows creeped onto your body, weaving themselves into your hair. You looked up at him and smiled. 

“You’re in a good mood today.” Azriel’s hazel eyes were brighter in the morning light, flecks of green poking through the amber. “You’re smiling.” 

And what didn’t you have to be smiling about? You were finally exploring Velaris. Mor, Cassian, and Nyx had touched you, albeit through the fabric of your robes, and you hadn’t been overwhelmed. And you’d finally been able to take knowledge from the book.

 It had been a pinch of information as potent as saltwater. You had gotten a name, and names held power. 

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with quiet delight. 

“I’m just happy,” you said. “I think things are getting better, with—” You glanced down at where your arms swung side by side and you reached out a finger, allowing it to gently brush against the scars at the top of his left hand. You curled your fingers around his for the briefest moment before letting go. “And… you know.” You shrugged. 

Azriel stopped walking abruptly and everyone turned to stare at him. The Shadowsinger was strung taughter than an Illyrian bow. 

Mor raised her brow in open appraisal. There was a flash of something like shock in her eyes and then she was buried in Emerie’s hair, whispering something into the female’s rounded ears that had her dark carved eyebrows flying up to her hairline.

“Az?” Rhys asked cheekily, “Everything alright?”

Cassian chuckled and even Nesta smirked.

Last year he was giving Elain and Gwyn the bedroom eyes, and now he short-circuits because Y/n brushes her hand against his? I don’t believe what I’m seeing, Cass.

Some females like their males a little pathetic and lovesick. 

You would know. 

Cassian chuckled, looping his arm around her waist and burying his lips in her hair. He twirled the face framing pieces between his fingers like he always did, and Nesta tried not to think about how she’d first started leaving them out after meeting the Lord of Bloodshed. It would seem she had once been a pathetic and lovesick fool herself.

I love it when you tease, Nes. 

Maybe she still was. Nesta couldn’t help but lean into his touch. 

They do make a good couple. She admitted and Cassian was in agreement.

Feyre was thinking the same thing as you twisted towards him, hand still outstretched like there was a string tying your fingers to his. You couldn’t help but want to drift towards him as surely as gravity makes rain fall to the earth. 

Does she know? Mor grasped Rhysand’s arm, eyes wide and staring. Does she know they’re mates? 

Not yet. 

Mor groaned. Are you fucking kidding me?

I wish I was.

Damn you, Azriel.

Azriel shook his head and forced his body to move forward. The world had stopped when you touched him, and it was only just starting to pick up again. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

Nyx munched on his apple slice, staring at you both curiously before following after his mother and father.

“Did you hear something?” You stayed by his side, no longer interested in the aromas fluttering in the air from the bakery, the soup shop with its stone vats bubbling in the back, the smokehouse with its slabs of bacon crackling on grease. “From your shadows?”

“No. Why did you think that?”

“You had a look in your eye, like you weren’t quite there for a second. My mother used to say that I looked like that sometimes when using my powers. Like for a moment I was untethered from the earth and at risk of floating away.” 

Azriel saved that piece of information, storing it away in his mind next to the knowledge that you had always wanted a dustbear for a pet because they were such simple, mindless creatures and you never felt overcome in their presence. 

“I do feel that way at times.” He waited until your little troupe passed by the spice shops. The particles in the air always made Cassian sneeze. “But not now.” 

Everyone dipped into a paisley blue building, the bell ringing with a soft clang to announce their presence. 

“Right now I feel… settled.” 

You grinned at him brighter than the sun, moon, and stars combined. “Good.” 

You followed after the others, and while your back was turned, Mor took her opportunity. She clawed the back of Azriel’s leathers, hauling him down the alleyway before anyone could notice. 

Azriel’s eyes blew open in surprise when Mor shoved him up against the wall hard enough for a rain of petals to fall over their heads from the second floor balcony. It would have been romantic if it weren’t for the incredulous look in Mor’s eyes and the fact that Azriel was still caught up in your smile and the feeling of your skin against his. Gods he wished you were the one pressing him against this wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about that hug in Rhysand’s office. He wanted to feel the softness of your body against him once more. 

“You idiot!” Mor slapped him across the face and it shocked him back to the present. “Why didn’t you tell me you found your mate?” She hissed. 

Azriel looked frantically back to the street, half expecting you to be standing there with your inquisitive eyes. It was still a jolt to his system whenever anyone used that word: mate. Equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. It was such a fragile word, and the others tossed it around so dangerously. 

“I didn’t—” Azriel stammered. Mor and Emerie’s arrival this morning had been unexpected for everyone except Rhysand and Feyre. “There wasn’t time.” “So?! You should’ve made time.” Mor stepped away, letting the Shadowsinger back down onto his feet. He had the good sense to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck while Mor tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed pink, tanned and freckled from her time on the Continent. 

Azriel felt that familiar coil of guilt building in his stomach and he tried to remember the apology he’d been preparing for this exact moment when he and Mor would be alone. 

He cleared his throat and bowed his head to the ground in a picture of reverent apology. “Mor, about what I said—”

She crashed into him again, arms looping around his neck and squeezing him so tightly he felt his ribs crack. And she was… laughing?

“You have a mate!” She giggled through happy tears, bouncing on her feet. Her heels clicked against the granite tiles. “My best friend finally has a mate!”

She kept repeating it over and over again, like she couldn’t quite believe it herself. 

“Mor, please. Keep it down.” They were attracting attention and Azriel wordlessly summoned his shadows to hide them from view.

Mor finally let him go, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry I just—” She squealed. 

Azriel let out a long, heavy sigh. This was closer to the reaction he should have had when Mor and Emerie announced their engagement. Instead he’d gone cold and silent. 

He should have known Mor preferred females, and maybe he had known all along that Mor could never love him the way he’d once loved her. But he’d done what he always did when it came to love and ran forward with a blindfold on, hoping his aim was true but never bothering to check. 

Mor furrowed her brows. “Are you upset by this? Why do you look like that?”

“What?” Azriel hissed like the question physically hurt him. “No. No! I’m not upset, I’m—” He clenched his fists and said in a small voice, “I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” He took a deep breath and winced, “And I’m thinking that you must have felt similarly when you got together with Emerie, and that I royally fucked up by reacting the way that I did.” 

He could picture it clear as day — Mor’s radiant smile slipping off her face, left hand dropping behind her back to hide the glittering ruby, the tears that gathered in her eyes when all Azriel did was remain stiff as stone before dropping off the balcony at her engagement party. 

Mor hesitated then tucked her honey-gold waves behind her ears like she did whenever she was uncomfortable. “I should have told you sooner.” Azriel knew she was referring to more than just her relationship with Emerie. “I knew you loved me and I let you believe for so long that there might be a chance I could return those feelings. But I was scared because… because I wanted to know there would always be someone waiting for me if…” She pressed her hands over her stomach. The nails may have disappeared from her body without a trace, but they’d been hammered elsewhere in her soul and she hadn’t managed to take them out just yet. “It was wrong of me to use you like that. To keep you waiting for so long.”

Azriel rubbed her shoulders. “I think you gave me more than a few hints that it wouldn’t work out. Chief among them, Cassian.” Mor’s gaze dropped to her feet, but all Azriel did was press a gentle kiss to the crown of her forehead. “I still love you, Mor, and I always will. It’s just a different kind of love now. I’m happy for you and Emerie. Truly.” 

“Yeah?” She looked up hopefully. 

Azriel nodded. He pulled Mor close, wrapping his wings around her to block out the sounds of bartering happening in the square. They stayed like that for a long while, until the shadows on the wall had dropped another inch. 

Mor sniffled and pushed him away. “Ok, enough of this now.” She carefully brushed away at the corner of her eyes, “You’re ruining my makeup.” 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Mor noted how it seemed to come easier to him now.   

The whole day you’d felt that something was amiss, but it wasn’t until a flustered artisan carrying bolts of spider silk fabric crashed into you that you realized what it was.

You stumbled into Azriel’s sturdy arms, feeling the strength and power beneath his leathers as he propped you up against his side. 

“So sorry, miss. Please forgive me.” The artisan blubbered. His cat eyes glowed a pale orange as they flickered over you from head to toe, “Can’t see with this.” He lifted the bolt. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you, like he was searching for something. Like he was hungry. Or scared.

“It’s alright.” You adjusted your clothes, tucked the book behind your back so it was pressed up against Azriel’s hip. 

That look in his eyes disappeared and he huffed in relief before continuing down the cobblestone streets, too much in a hurry to notice the Shadowsinger glaring at him.

“Are you ok?” He let you find your footing, keeping his hand at the small of your back. 

You stared at the male’s retreating form. “He didn’t… he didn’t bow to you. To any of you.” You blinked at Feyre and Rhysand.

She wore no crown, no jewelry except the ring on her finger and the diamonds in her  ears, but the male must have known he was in the presence of his High Lady. And there was no mistaking Rhysand and his brothers.

“Like Azriel said when you first arrived here, we take the casual approach.” Feyre said, and as if to make the point, Nyx shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side in a manner so like Rhys that Azriel and Cassian burst out laughing. Rhys looked down fondly and brushed back his hair. 

Feyre drifted to your side, watching with amusement as Nyx disappeared into the forest of color that was the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Every inch of fabric was too precious to be wasted, and so the weavers collected the scraps and tied them together, end to end, until they became one long chain. They hung from the entrances of shops, from the arches criss-crossing overhead, and from hand-painted signs. They wrapped around doorways and caught on the shoulders of passerbys, whispering of the time and effort spent crafting them.

Nyx weaved in and out of these strands, chased by Cassian and Azriel as they pretended to be tricked by the little boy’s lithe footsteps. You gasped as he turned invisible, then reappeared four inches to his left, jabbing at Azriel’s side before disappearing again.

“He can wrap light around himself as much as he can weave darkness,” Feyre explained, staying close to your side, “I think he might have gotten some remnant of the Day Court’s power from me. It made him an absolute nightmare for about three years when he couldn’t control it. Can you imagine having a toddler waddling around and wreaking havoc that you can’t even see?”

Nesta let out a sharp breath of laughter. “I think that’s an experience unique to you, Fey.”

You had to agree. You’d never turned invisible as a child, although you had to admit it would have been a very useful power to inherit from your father.

“Gotcha! You little rascal!” Cassian said triumphantly. 

You heard Nyx shriek with laughter. Cassian and Azriel both had one arm raised above their heads and with a little shake the boy came back into view, dangling upside down from his ankles.  

“Don’t break the boy, Cass.” 

“I won’t break him, Rhys. Gotta let him grow old enough to beat all those bastards at Windhaven, don’t I?” 

Rhys and Feyre’s smiles slipped ever so slightly. 

Nyx was lowered to the ground. He kept his arms out and balanced on his hands for a brief moment before walking over onto his feet with a flourish. 

“Gwyn taught me that last week. She’s part river nymph. Very flexible.” He brushed invisible dirt from his shirt and continued on, leading the way towards the Sidra like he owned the place — which in some respects he did.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Just another little chapter with more slowburn antics between Y/n and Azriel! And! Mor and Emerie are here! I am slowly but surely collecting characters like pokemon cards because you know I want to have my favorites in Velaris when shit starts to go down...

[simpforrooster]

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

[princessmisery666]

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

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[goodnessgraves]

This is my first time writing a fic, go easy on me!! (please ignore any errors in any of the parts in spanish, i promise i tried 😭)

Valeria Garza/F!Reader, Praise, Literally the slightest degredation, Power play if you squint, Age gap if you squint, Vaginal fingering (reader receiving) Let me know if I missed anything!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT! 18+ MDNI!!! 🩷

You’ve always had a crush on your boss, how could you not? She was everything you liked in a woman. She was taller than you, shockingly strong, beautiful, and absolutely fucking terrifying. But, she probably doesn’t like women. (You convince yourself of that, anyways.)

The office is dark and cold as you step inside, the interior is surprisingly comfortable and homely. The woman in the chair doesn’t say anything as you walk in, just letting out a soft grunt as a greeting, she’s working on something.

“Excuse me, Ms. Garza?” She raises her head, a slight annoyed but still attentive expression on her face.

“Sí?” She says, looking up at you, who’s standing there nervously with a manila folder in your hands.

“I have the files you asked fo-“ You start to speak but she cuts you off before you can finish.

“Sit, chiquita.” She says, clearly not asking but commanding. Her expression goes from annoyed to something you can’t quite pick up on as she watches you sit and place the folder on her desk.

She quickly snatches the folder up, opening it and examining it. She sits there silently, reading through all the files and diligently taking note of the color coding.

“Good work.” She places it down and looks at you. You know it shouldn’t affect you like that, but even the slightest of praise makes you weak in the knees.

“You know, cariño,” She lets out a soft sigh before continuing, “You’re doing so good.” She softly smiles at you before looking you up and down, almost sizing you up.

Her eyes are filled with a hunger you haven’t seen from her, you feel like a prey animal encountering a coyote, or a cougar.

“Thank you, ma’am, I really try my hardest.” You smile at her, ignoring the feeling of arousal seeping deep into your bones.

She stares at you with an increased hunger, feeding off the blush littering your cheeks, nose, and ears.

“You’re too pretty for a life of crime, you know? Podrías ser una modelo.” She says, matter of factly, watching the way you look away out of embarrassment.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, muñeca. I only have two rules, look at me when I’m speaking, and listen to me when I’m speaking. I would hate to have to punish you for disobedience.” Her expression slightly darkens, reaching over her desk to grip your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“There we go, esa es una buena chica.” She coos at you, mockingly. You squirm at her touch and her praise, feeling nothing but pure arousal at her actions. She pulls back softly and leans back in her chair, patting her lap, gesturing for you to go sit.

“Come on, don’t be shy, chiquita.” She encouraged, watching you get up from your seat to brush out the wrinkles in your skirt before walking over to her, your heels clicking softly against the floor.

You climb onto her lap, straddling her as her hands grip your waist, she’s smiling up at you.

“I normally don’t let people bother me in my office, but I’ll make an exception for you, hermosa.” She whispers in your ear, feeling you shiver as her breath tickles your neck, and she takes that opportunity to lean in and plant a soft bite on your earlobe, listening as a soft whine leaves your lips.

At this point, your brain is completely useless, this beautiful woman has you in her lap, grabbing your hips, all while teasing you. You feel like you’re in fucking Disneyland, this is the greatest place on earth.

“Ma’am?” You manage to mutter out, despite how flustered you are.

“Mmhm?” She lets out a soft hum, pulling away from your neck to look at you, ready to answer her question.

“Can I have more?” You ask quietly, your voice almost a whisper. You feel like you could die right there out of embarrassment. She interrupts your extremely cloudy train of thoughts by letting out a dark chuckle, eyeing you up.

“You know, when you wear skirts and dresses like that, I can’t keep my eyes off you, princesa. Do you know what you do to me?” She murmurs seductively, moving her hands down from your hips to your thighs, massaging them roughly for a moment before speaking up.

“Stand up, bend over my desk. Now.” She commands and you quickly oblige, knowing she wants you as bad as you want her makes your heart beat faster and your pussy flutter.

You’re bent over her desk, as she stands up and positions herself behind you, one hand on your back, holding you down, and another one teasing you through your panties.

“So wet already, all for me? Such a needy girl, huh? So needy and I’ve barely even touched you.” She smirks while taunting you, listening to you whine.

Eventually she hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties down, taking them and putting them in the drawer of her desk. She tells you it’s a keepsake, a trophy of sorts, but you’re only half listening.

She says something you don’t quite hear before pushing a finger inside your aching pussy, you yelp, not expecting that. She tuts at you.

“Niña tonta, what did I tell you about listening when I speak, huh?” She teases as she pushes another finger in, making you writhe under her as she laughs.

“Chica patética.” She coos at you, her voice dropping to make fun of you while thrusting her fingers in and out of your cunt.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times you’ve came on her fingers. All you know is that this is something you could definitely get used to.