#glen powell x oc

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 1

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: At Tanner Novlan's 4th of July barbecue, Gabby Summers finds herself unexpectedly face-to-face with Glen Powell—literally. What starts as a mishap quickly turns into something more as the two discover an effortless chemistry, sharing laughs, stories, and sidelong glances throughout the night. As fireworks light up the sky, Gabby wonders if their spark could be more than just a passing moment.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is my first fanfic that I've ever posted and there will be several more parts! Please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

The sky above Los Angeles was painted with the soft hues of an early July evening, just beginning to melt into a deeper blue as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Tanner Novlan's backyard was alive with a festive warmth that matched the holiday. Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft glow on the gathering crowd. Laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the faint melody of classic rock coming from a speaker nestled near the patio. The unmistakable aroma of barbecue wafted from the grill, where Tanner and Chord Overstreet stood, spatulas in hand, flipping burgers and ribs with practiced ease.

Gabby Summers strolled through the crowd, her nearly empty drink in hand. The warmth of the evening settled around her, making her feel slightly flushed, though she didn’t mind. She glanced around, catching sight of a few familiar faces mingling and laughing, each one immersed in the joy of the moment. 

It was her first time at one of Tanner’s famous Fourth of July barbecues, and she’d been thrilled to receive an invitation through his wife, Kayla. With the soft California breeze brushing her cheeks and the hum of excited voices, she felt like she was finally, truly part of the city's creative scene.

Just as Gabby was about to slip back inside to refill her drink, she collided with someone hard enough to jolt the cup in her hand. A splash of cold liquid hit her, and she instinctively looked down. The bright red punch from a solo cup now stained her white T-shirt, its American flag graphic damp and smeared with sticky crimson.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The voice was deep and genuinely apologetic.

Gabby looked up, meeting the gaze of the man she’d bumped into. He had striking green eyes that sparkled with both concern and embarrassment, and his tall frame loomed over her as he quickly took in the mess. There was something familiar about his face, but she couldn’t quite place it, her thoughts still on the vibrant stain spreading across her shirt.

He grimaced, wincing as he took in the mess he’d inadvertently made. “I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”

Gabby blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Yeah, I’m fine, just—" She looked down at the mess, managing a soft laugh. “Not exactly the look I was going for tonight.”

The man chuckled, his smile easy and a little sheepish. “I can imagine. Here, let me help you.” He held up his hand as if offering assistance, but hesitated, clearly realizing he couldn’t exactly clean the stain off for her. Instead, he gestured toward the house. “I think they’ve got some towels in the kitchen. Let me walk you over?”

Appreciating his awkward, sincere attempt to fix the situation, Gabby nodded, smiling as they headed inside.

Inside the kitchen, Gabby reached for a napkin to blot at the punch stain, though it did little to help. Tanner’s wife, Kayla, spotted them, her eyes widening slightly at the mess.

“Oh no, Gabby! Hang on, there might be a Tide to Go pen in the laundry room down the hall,” Kayla suggested, pointing in the direction of a nearby doorway. “Maybe that’ll do the trick.”

“Thanks, Kayla,��� Gabby replied, smiling gratefully before heading down the hall with Glen close behind.

In the laundry room, Gabby took the Tide pen from the shelf and dabbed it against the glaring red stain, trying not to laugh at the hopelessness of the task. The stain had already set, bright and relentless, covering most of the front of her shirt.

“Looks like that punch doesn’t give up without a fight,” Glen said with a grin, watching as she sighed, inspecting the damage in the mirror.

Gabby gave up, a chuckle escaping her. “Well, it’s safe to say this shirt isn’t going back to normal tonight.”

Glen looked her over with an assessing gaze, and after a second, he shrugged, starting to unbutton his short-sleeved shirt. 

“Here,” he said, sliding it off to reveal a fitted white tank underneath. He held out the shirt to her. “Take this. Your shirt’s basically a lost cause, and you probably don’t want to head back out there looking like… well, like this.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his offer. “Really? I can’t just take your shirt…”

“Sure you can,” he replied with an easy smile, urging the shirt into her hands.

Hesitantly, she took it, feeling a little self-conscious but grateful. “Alright, if you insist. Thanks.”

Glen stepped outside the laundry room to give her a moment to change. Gabby slipped out of her damp, stained shirt, and as she slid Glen’s over her shoulders, she immediately noticed the faint, rich scent of his cologne—fresh and woody with a hint of something warm and citrusy. She could pick out notes of bergamot and amberwood, leaving a soft, comforting mix of crispness and warmth.

The shirt was loose, the sleeves brushing past her elbows, and she buttoned it up, tucking it into her light-wash denim shorts to give it a bit of shape. She took a final glance in the mirror, adjusting the collar and smoothing the fabric. It wasn’t her planned look, but somehow, it felt effortless and casual, with a charm that almost suited her more than the original outfit had.

As Gabby opened the door and stepped out of the laundry room, she found Glen waiting just a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, and he straightened when he saw her.

“Thanks again for this,” she said, gesturing to his shirt with a shy smile. “I’m… well, I’m lucky you had a spare.” She paused, realizing something. “I just realized—I don’t actually know your name.”

He chuckled, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek as he extended a hand. “Glen. Glen Powell.”

The name rang a bell, but Gabby couldn’t place it immediately. She took his hand, her smile widening as his warm grip lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you, Glen. I’m Gabby—Gabriella Summers,” she replied, giving his hand a gentle shake.

“Gabriella,” he repeated, seeming to test the name with a slight smile.

She gave him a wry look. “At least I don’t look like I just lost a paintball match anymore.”

“Not at all,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her in his shirt. “In fact, I think you pull it off better than I do.”

Gabby laughed, warmth creeping into her cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you feel guilty.”

“Maybe,” he teased, shrugging. “But I mean it.”

They exchanged a smile, and for a moment, everything around them felt still, despite the faint sounds of music and laughter carrying in from outside.

“Shall we head back?” he asked, gesturing toward the door, though he made no move to walk ahead of her.

“Lead the way,” she replied, a hint of excitement bubbling up. She was starting to get the feeling that tonight might be more interesting than she’d expected.

As they returned to the party, Gabby and Glen quickly drifted back into the lively atmosphere of Tanner’s backyard. Glen stayed close by, occasionally stealing glances at her as she mingled with others, their earlier mishap now a quiet joke between them. Gabby found herself laughing more easily with each passing moment, almost as if the night had taken on a new lightness.

It wasn’t long before Tanner, who’d been tending the grill with Chord, noticed Glen’s unusual choice of attire.

“Glen! What’s with the tank top?” Tanner called over, smirking. “You out here trying to show off?”

Glen rolled his eyes, chuckling as he made his way over to where Tanner and Chord stood, flipping burgers and laughing amongst themselves.

“Long story,” Glen replied with a sheepish grin. 

He nodded toward Gabby, who was chatting with Kayla a few steps away, wearing his button-up shirt. “I, uh… spilled my drink on her by accident. Figured the least I could do was offer her my shirt.”

Chord raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Slick move, man,” he joked, nudging Glen. “Because that’s exactly how you impress a girl: by drenching her in fruit punch.”

“Smooth,” Tanner chimed in, barely holding back a laugh. “You should write that down. ‘How to win a girl over, Glen Powell-style: ruin her shirt, then offer her yours.’”

Glen gave a good-natured laugh, shrugging. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Chord squinted, giving him a skeptical look. “Did it, though?”

They all burst out laughing, Glen running a hand through his hair, looking both amused and slightly self-conscious. He glanced back at Gabby, who caught his eye and smiled, a hint of curiosity in her expression as she looked at him and then back at the three of them.

“Guess you’ll just have to see,” Tanner added, clapping Glen on the shoulder. “You should probably get back over there before she realizes you’re not really that smooth.”

Glen smirked, accepting their playful jabs. “You’re probably right.”

The evening slipped by in a warm, carefree haze as Gabby and Glen gravitated toward each other again and again. They’d drift off to chat with other guests, but soon, she’d feel Glen by her side, making some dry, witty remark that would have her throwing her head back, laughing. His charisma was magnetic; he had this way of drawing her in with just the right mix of humor and charm.

Their conversations flowed effortlessly as they started talking about film. Gabby mentioned how she’d moved to Los Angeles recently, hoping to get her start in the industry. Glen’s eyes lit up in genuine interest, sharing some stories about his own early days, bouncing between roles as an actor, writer, and even producer. His passion for his work was evident, and it sparked something in her, making her want to tell him more about her own aspirations, the kinds of films she wanted to make.

From film, they moved on to travel, comparing notes on cities and countries they’d visited or dreamed of visiting. Both had a fondness for Europe—Italy especially. She talked about a summer she spent in Rome, completely absorbed in the art and food, and Glen shared his own story of wandering the quiet streets of Florence, charmed by the city’s history and beauty.

When they discovered they both had a love for cooking, Glen’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Alright, what’s your go-to meal if you’re trying to impress someone?” he asked, leaning in with an almost mischievous smile.

She thought for a moment, a small grin forming. “Pasta alla vodka,” she admitted. “I swear it’s the recipe my mom taught me, but I’ve added a few tricks of my own over the years. It’s usually a winner.”

He laughed, giving her an impressed nod. “I respect that. But next time, you’ll have to let me try it—then I’ll tell you if it really lives up to the hype.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Only if you make something for me, too.”

Their banter was easy, and each passing hour only seemed to make the chemistry between them more tangible. Gabby couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much in one night, and every time Glen flashed that confident smile, she felt her cheeks flush just a little more.

At one point, she found herself by Kayla’s side as they refilled their drinks. Gabby tried to keep her voice casual, but curiosity got the best of her. “So… what’s Glen’s story?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder where he was talking with Tanner and Chord.

Kayla immediately raised her brows, a knowing smile forming. “What, you interested?”

Gabby’s cheeks reddened, but she shrugged, trying to keep her cool. “He’s interesting, that’s all. I’m just curious.”

Kayla chuckled, giving her a look that suggested she saw right through her. “Alright, well… Glen’s been in the industry for a while. He’s one of those guys who can do a little bit of everything—acting, producing, even some writing. He’s kind of having a moment right now. He’s been good friends with Tanner and Chord for years; they’ve worked together on a few projects. But as far as relationships go, let’s just say he hasn’t really been looking for anything serious lately.”

“Oh.” Gabby tried to mask her disappointment, even though a little twinge of it crept in.

“But,” Kayla added with a wink, “that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time. And, well, judging by the way he keeps glancing over here, I’d say he’s at least a little interested.”

Gabby felt a mix of excitement and caution. Maybe Glen wasn’t looking for anything serious, but that didn’t mean tonight couldn’t be fun. After all, she’d just moved to LA and was open to meeting new people and making memories.

Meanwhile, across the patio, Glen was in the middle of a conversation with Tanner and Chord, but his gaze drifted toward Gabby as she laughed at something Kayla said.

“Alright, I’ve got to know,” Glen said to Tanner with a smirk, nodding in Gabby’s direction. “Who is she?”

Tanner glanced over, recognizing the interest in Glen’s voice. “Her name’s Gabby. She’s friends with Kayla. They met through a mutual friend and hit it off. Why? Interested?”

Glen laughed, but there was a spark in his eyes. “Not sure yet.”

As the night went on, Glen and Gabby found themselves side by side again. The conversations continued, but there was an added warmth between them now, a spark that lingered as they shared subtle glances and soft smiles.

As the evening began winding down, the air filled with a new kind of energy as Tanner announced that the fireworks show was about to start. Guests began to gather on the lawn, chairs and blankets spread across the grass as they looked up in anticipation. The barbecue’s earlier lively chatter had softened, replaced by a hushed excitement as everyone waited for the first burst of color to light up the night.

Glen spotted Gabby not far off, standing at the edge of the group, her eyes turned toward the sky. Without even thinking, he drifted over to her side, catching her eye just as the first fireworks burst into a spray of red and gold above them.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” he murmured, glancing at her.

She smiled, nodding, her gaze never leaving the display above. “It’s beautiful. And the perfect way to end the night.”

They stood side by side, close enough that their arms brushed as each firework exploded overhead. With each burst, the colorful lights reflected in Gabby’s wide eyes, casting her face in an ethereal glow that held Glen’s attention longer than he’d planned. He found himself caught up in her quiet awe, as if he were seeing the fireworks for the first time himself.

Another firework burst overhead, this one in a brilliant shade of purple, and Gabby looked over at him, catching his gaze. Her expression softened, and she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“What?” Glen asked, smiling.

“Nothing,” she replied, her voice warm and teasing. “I just didn’t expect tonight to go like this.”

“Me neither,” he admitted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not exactly how I usually try to make a first impression.”

Her laughter mixed with the faint crackle of the fireworks, and Glen felt something shift between them, a quiet understanding as the night grew darker and the crowd grew quieter. When the final firework exploded, painting the sky in shimmering gold, he leaned just a little closer.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching her attention once more. “Would you maybe want to go out sometime? You know, somewhere that doesn’t involve me ruining your clothes.”

Gabby laughed, the sound easy and genuine. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“I think I’d like that,” she replied, a smile lingering on her lips as the last of the fireworks faded into the night sky.

As the last guests began drifting out and the night turned quiet, Gabby made her way back through the house to say her goodbyes. She found Kayla near the patio, chatting with a few friends, and hugged her, thanking her for the invitation and a night she wouldn’t forget. After bidding farewell to Tanner and a few others, she turned to head out, only to find Glen standing nearby, as if he’d been waiting for her.

“Heading out?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes warm.

She nodded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, it’s getting late, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Mind if I walk you to your car?” Glen offered.

Surprised but pleased, she smiled. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They stepped out into the cool night, the hum of conversation fading as they moved away from the house. The quiet of the street was a stark contrast to the party’s earlier energy, and as they walked, Gabby felt the weight of the evening settle in—a mix of exhilaration and curiosity about where this unexpected connection with Glen might lead.

When they reached her car parked a few houses down, she turned to face him, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, thanks for walking me.”

“Anytime,” he replied with a slight grin. “By the way... about that date we talked about—mind if I get your number?”

She could feel her cheeks warm as she pulled her phone out, exchanging numbers with him, their hands brushing briefly as they made the switch. Just then, Gabby looked down and realized she was still wearing his shirt.

“Oh, I almost forgot—do you want your shirt back?” she asked, tugging at the collar, her smile sheepish.

Glen just shook his head, grinning. “Nah, keep it. Gives me a reason to see you again.” His voice held a playful note, though his gaze was sincere.

She chuckled, glancing down at the shirt she now realized she’d probably end up wearing to bed. “Alright, then. Guess I owe you one.”

As they stood there in the quiet night, an unspoken warmth lingered between them, both hesitant to let the evening end. Gabby took a small breath, then stepped forward, her movements soft but deliberate. She wrapped her arms around Glen, feeling the warmth of his frame envelop her in return. He held her gently, his hands resting on her back in a way that felt both natural and steadying.

The embrace lingered a little longer than a simple goodnight might warrant. She could feel the beat of his heart against her, steady and strong, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. The scent of his cologne, warm with hints of amberwood and bergamot, was even more noticeable now, filling her senses and adding an unexpected intimacy to the moment.

Glen’s hand slid just slightly, almost protectively, over her shoulder as they held onto each other. Gabby felt herself relax against him, the shared silence feeling more like an unspoken promise than a goodbye. As they finally pulled back, his hands stayed on her arms for a beat longer, as if reluctant to fully let her go.

“Goodnight, Gabby,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth she hadn’t heard before.

“Goodnight, Glen,” she replied, her gaze lingering on his as a small, shy smile spread across her face.

She took a step back, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch even as she opened her car door. He gave her a small wave as she settled in, his expression holding a softness that told her he’d felt it too—the spark of something just beginning.

[genrockstar]

Under the Midnight Sky

pairing: glen powell x oc

summary: glen and his co star have spontaneous night out

author's note: scroll down and listen to the song while reading!!

The moon hung high and full over the Santa Monica Pier, casting a silvery glow across the ocean. Glen Powell leaned against the railing, taking in the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. He was in LA for a break between filming, and the night had felt perfect for a spontaneous getaway. Little did he know that the evening would turn into something he hadn’t quite expected.

He glanced at his watch, wondering if she'd arrive soon. He had invited her on a whim, intrigued by their previous conversations and a spark of chemistry that seemed undeniable. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find a text from her.

“Hey! On my way. See you soon. :)”

Glen smiled, his nerves easing. He turned his attention back to the ocean, the cool breeze ruffling his hair. He was lost in thought when he heard a soft voice behind him.

“Is this seat taken?”

He turned to see Lily, a vibrant woman with a warm smile and eyes that seemed to hold a thousand stories. She was dressed casually, but there was a grace to her presence that made the evening feel even more magical.

“Nope, all yours,” Glen said, stepping aside to let her take a seat on the bench next to him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Lily sat down, her gaze drifting out to the water. “It’s beautiful here. Thanks for inviting me.”

They spent a few moments in comfortable silence, the only sounds the distant laughter of other beachgoers and the gentle lap of the waves. Glen glanced over, his curiosity piqued.

“So, what’s been on your mind lately?”

Lily’s eyes met his, and she smiled softly. “Oh, you know, just life. Work, trying to find balance, and dreaming about new adventures.”

Glen nodded, understanding more than she might have realized. “It’s easy to get caught up in everything and forget to just enjoy the moment.”

She chuckled. “I think we’re on the same page. Sometimes I think we need a little nudge to remember what really matters.”

Their conversation flowed easily, like an old friendship rekindled. They talked about their passions, their favorite books, and even their most embarrassing moments. The hours slipped by unnoticed until the pier began to empty, leaving just the two of them under the expansive sky.

Glen hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice a little softer. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight. It’s been a nice change from the usual whirlwind.”

Lily turned to him, her gaze steady. “Me too. I didn’t expect to have such a great time. It feels... special.”

He looked at her, seeing something in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Glen leaned in slightly, his voice almost a whisper. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but there’s something about you that feels incredibly right.”

Lily’s breath caught in her throat. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. “I feel it too, Glen.”

Without thinking, Glen gently took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining. The touch was electric, sending a shiver up his spine. He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. All he found was an openness that mirrored his own feelings.

Slowly, he leaned in, his heart racing as he brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It was soft and gentle, like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon. Lily responded with equal warmth, her arms wrapping around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other’s, Glen whispered, “I didn’t expect to find something like this tonight.”

Lily’s smile was radiant, her eyes filled with affection. “Neither did I. But I’m glad we did.”

They spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, their connection growing stronger with every word. The pier, once bustling with activity, had become their private haven, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon and stars.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Glen and Lily knew that the night had marked the beginning of something truly special. The world might have been waking up, but for them, it felt like they had discovered a little piece of forever under the midnight sky.

And as they walked hand in hand along the shore, the promise of new adventures and shared moments seemed as endless as the ocean stretching out before them.

[nikkicloudie]

Double Shifts

Glenn Powell x SingleMom!Reader

Summary: Going grocery shopping with your daughter(Elena). One moment she was next to you. You look away for one second she's gone. You look everywhere to see her "harassing" a certain actor.

Warning: Change of POV, Elena is an adorable sneaky kid, Glen is good with Elena, and Language, short story

A/N: Maybe this could be a mini-series lmkkkk @sarah-bear706318 for this story! and moodbored!

The one day you wished you didn't need to go shopping but were glad at the same time. It was like your daughter was being your wingman...or wing woman..or wing child..? Doesnt matter all that matters was finding your daughter who was lost in the damn store. "Elena!?" you yelled for her looking everywhere for the little demon.

Everyone kept looking at you like you were crazy like you were talking to an invisible person. But like in the real world, they were unhelpful in finding the demon you love your daughter. "Elena?!" you yelled again pushing the shopping cart god damn you're about to leave all your groceries behind to find her.

But what you didn't know was possible had happened...

"Excuse me, sir" Glen heard a small quiet voice behind him. He turned around to see a small girl who looked no later than 6. Glen looked around to see no one other than the little girl in the aisle with him. Glen kneeled down to her level "Hey there" He said with a small smile "You lost?" he asked. The little girl nodded before she spoke "I can't find my mama..." she said sadly. "Hey don't be sad little one...What's your name?" he asked softly as she looked up at him and tilted her head slightly "Elena..." she said "You look familiar" she says again. Glen raised an eyebrow "Oh?" he says before he could ask Elena smiles.

"You that actor..! My mama says you're a hunk! Whatever that is" she shrugs as Glen chuckles "Oh? Is that so?" He asked as Elena nodded quickly which made him giggle again "Let's go find your mommy ok?" He says grabbing her hand as they walk Elena keeps talking and it makes Glen smile and nod. Then behind him, he heard "Elena!" Which made both of them turn around "Mama!" she yells letting go of Glen's hand and running to you as you hug her.

"God you gave me a heart attack!" You yelled and hugged her more tightly which made Elena frown "I sorry mama" she said quietly "Its ok..."You said softly before looking up at the man who was holding your daughter hand which made your freeze....Glen Fucking Powell. Standing right in front of you. "Holy...Holy shit" you muttered and stands up quickly.

Your daughter looks at Glen "Mama he helped me come find you!" she says smiling as you smile at him "Thank you" as he smiles back at you and Elena. "I should get going though," he says. As he starts to walk away you yell "Wait!" he turns around to look at you "Is there anything I could do...to repay you" which made him chuckle and shake his head "No no it ok it's basic human decency" he says "What about dinner?" you ask softly "My treat" you said again which made him smile.

"Sure...dinner sounds lovely"

[cowboybeepboop]

Please please please write something angsty with Hangman that ends with smut, it doesn't have to be too angsty but I really like how soft you write him

Pairing: Jake “Hangan” Seresin x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6.6k 

Summary: You’re a psychologist who is currently working with Maverick which means that Jake Seresin is back in your life. The two of you used to be friends but things changed between you during senior year. Seeing him again brings back memories, and feelings you thought you’d suppressed.

Warnings: not even slightly accurate to irl navy experience (I feel like that would be an assumption but nevertheless), mentions of bullying, Jake being a horrible person in the past, hand stuff, oral fem receiving. 

a/n: lowkey this was rlly fun to write, I'm not so great at angst so I hope this is good. Again, as always, I hope you enjoy and please send any requests you might have <3 I love to write requests so feel free to send anything! Also also, send me a message if you want to be tagged in future Glen Powell/Hangman fics.

You and Jake went to the same highschool and were great friends yet both late bloomers. You grew into yourself during your sophomore year of college whereas Jake did in Senior year of high school, when he got his big growth spurt and lost his braces. Something about him entirely humiliating you by standing you up on Prom night, something you were looking forward to, simply because of how much you liked him has you holding a grudge. 

So when you ran into him during your new position as a clinical psychologist for the Navy, your heart quite literally stopped. You thought that pretending you didn't see him would suffice, but, unfortunately the universe has a completely different plan. 

Your boss had introduced you to Maverick, they planned to have you check out his new team in order to make sure they are competent for the missions the government plans for them to complete. That's how you ended up in the gruff man's office every morning, despite his obvious disdain for your presence in their team. 

The evening sunlight beats down on you as you stand next to Maverick, watching the team go through their training drills. You notice him glance over at you, before focusing back on the team in front of you.

"How's that observing going for you?" He asks with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, never taking his eyes off the team performing push-ups.

“Honestly Sir,” you glance over to him, “You’re really good at training, but I think you should be flying missions. You’re too good of a pilot to be stuck on teaching duties.” 

Maverick pauses for a moment, caught off guard by your unexpected compliment. It's clear he wasn't expecting you to say that. He huffs, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss what you said.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises, sweetheart." He smirks and turns to look you in the eye. "I take it you read up on my file, huh? Got all the dirty little details on Mr. Top Gun himself."

“Of course, but my father trained here a couple years after you.” your gaze returns to the aviators, “He’s always looked up to you, says you're one of the greatest.” 

Maverick's smirk falters for a second, his expression unreadable. He shifts his weight and adjusts the collar of his shirt, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Your old man, huh?” He clears his throat. “I had no idea." There's a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone. "What's he doing nowadays?"

You reply with a shrug, “Not sure. He wasn’t so keen on having a *shrink* hanging around. Said it cramps his style.” Maverick snorts, that sarcastic smirk returning to his face. 

"Yeah, that sounds like a pilot, alright." He says with a chuckle. His gaze flicks over to the team, currently going through flight drills. He lets out a deep breath before speaking again, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "Did you ever think about becoming a pilot?”

“I did, but I don't think I meet the height requirement.” you smile up at him. Maverick chuckles at your joke, a rare glimpse of genuine humor in his expression.

"Ah yes, the height requirement. The bane of many short people's existence." He teases, his smirk widening. Before you can respond, both of you turn your attention to the sound of the aviators approaching. They look exhausted but pleased, clearly proud of a job well done.

Jake walks towards you, sweat dripping down his forehead from the strenuous training. He stands a little too close, his eyes fixed on you and his breathing heavy. "Hey, Y/N." Jake says, his voice strained from the workout. "You got a minute?” you shift your gaze to the older man at your right, clearing your throat before speaking. 

“No, I’m quite busy.” your usual playful tone is replaced with a distant and cold one.

Maverick picks up on your plea immediately, his expression hardening at the sight of Jake's attempt to speak with you. He steps forward slightly, creating a small barrier between you and Jake.

Jake looks taken back by your cold response, his cocky demeanor slipping slightly. He glances between you and Maverick, clearly confused. "Ah, come on. Just a quick minute." He presses.

“There’s time to talk later.” Maverick interrupts, making you sigh in relief. Jake's cocky smile falters at your cold rejection and Maverick's intervention. He glances at the older man, clearly annoyed by his interruption. 

"It's alright, Maverick," he says, trying to shrug off Maverick's protective stance. "I just wanted to talk to Y/N for a second. It won't take long."  you cower behind Mav, unwilling to face Jake alone again.

Rooster interrupts the tense situation, “Mav, should we hit the showers? Or is there more training to be done?” Jake’s face darkens at Rooster’s question, clearly frustrated that his attempt to speak with you is being constantly interrupted. He clenches his jaw, his irritation palpable.

Maverick, however, remains calm. He gives you a reassuring look before turning to face his team. "Yeah, you guys go ahead and hit the showers." Maverick says, his hand still on your shoulder. "I’ll take care of the situation here." The team nods, sensing the tension in the air, and starts making their way towards the showers.

You avoid Jake's gaze, biting down on your lower lip as you sigh with the tension between the three of you. As the team heads off to the showers, the tension in the air still hangs heavily. Jake stands there, hands on his hips, as he stares at you with a mix of disappointment and anger.

Meanwhile, Maverick's hand goes to your shoulder, a silent show of support. "You really going to keep avoiding me like this?" Jake finally blurts out, breaking the silence.

“If I can.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re like a damn hawk.” Mav gives you a quizzical gaze before you sigh. “It’s okay Sir, I’ll talk to him” he gives you a soft nod, heading off toward the buildings. 

Once Maverick leaves, Jake's attention refocuses on you, his gaze narrowing as he steps closer. "You’ve been avoiding me all week. We need to talk." His voice is firm, his frustration evident.

“It’s only been a couple days,” you protest, Jake's annoyance only grows at your words, his jaw tightening as he steps even closer, closing the space between you. 

"A couple of days?! It's felt like an eternity. And yeah, I remember our last conversation. It didn't exactly go well." He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you. "You can't keep brushing me aside like this." 

You take a few steps back, sighing with defeat. “Jake, why do you care so much now?” Jake's eyes flick down to the space between you, watching you take a few steps back. His expression softens slightly as he hears the resignation in your voice.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his features. "Why do I care?” he repeats, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because I..." He trails off, his own emotions catching him off guard. He pauses, grappling with the words he wants to say, before finding them again. 

You gulp, brushing past him heading toward the buildings. Jake turns, his eyes following you as you try to brush past him. He reaches out, his hand encircling your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Hey, wait." His voice is softer now, more pleading. "Please, just stop and listen to me for a second."

“Okay, fine.” you pull your wrist from his grasp. Jake's hand hangs in the air for a moment after you pull away, your sharp movement surprising him slightly. But he quickly regains his composure and drops it back to his side.

He takes a deep breath and steps closer to you. He wants to reach out and touch you again, but he restrains himself. "I just... I can't stand this. This constant avoidance." 

“Worked well for you when it was you avoiding me.” you bite back. 

Jake's face flushes slightly, guilt flashing across his features. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own past behavior. He lets out a frustrated breath, his gaze dropping to the ground. "That was different..." 

“It’s not and you know it.” your head lowers as your mind goes back to your previous conversation, where you confessed your feelings for him and he shut them down quickly. Jake looks at you as your head lowers, regret in his eyes. He instinctively reaches out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Baby, please." His voice is soft, almost pleading. "Just let me talk for a minute." His touch is tentative, as if he's afraid you'll brush him away again. He wants you to hear him out, but he doesn't want to push you further away in the process. 

You’re taken aback by the pet name, allowing him time to speak. Jake notices the effect his words have on you, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. He realizes that he might have a chance to explain himself now.

He takes a deep breath and begins, his voice steady but sincere. "When you told me about your feelings, it took me completely by surprise. I didn't expect it at all. And, honestly, I didn't know how to handle it." His gaze drops to the ground for a moment, his hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. 

You take a deep breath, “Jake,” you move his hand from you. “The only reason you care now is because, because I’m finally *decent* enough for your attention.” 

Jake's expression darkens at your words, a mixture of anger and regret in his eyes. He knows your words carry truth, and it hurts. "That's not true." he protests, his voice tight. "If I'm here now, it's not because I suddenly think you're *decent enough*. It's because..." 

“Because what?” your eyes scan his face. 

Jake runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words to explain himself. His eyes lock onto yours, as he tries to convey the depth of his emotions.

"Because I realize now what an idiot I've been," he bursts out, his frustration and remorse clear in his tone. "But... something changed and I..." 

“What changed?” you sigh, Jake's eyes drop to the ground as he grapples with how to answer. He runs a hand through his hair before looking back up at you.

"I don't know," he admits, his voice quieter now, "maybe it was time, or realizing I'm not a kid anymore, but..." He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "You're different now. You've grown, you've become this..." He gestures towards you, struggling to find the right words. 

“Jake stop..” you look up at him with wary eyes, “That's not fair,”

Jake stops, his eyes widening at your words. "What do you mean it's not fair?" He steps forward, confusion and frustration etched in his expression.

"I'm trying to explain myself, to make you understand why I care now," he says, his voice straining to remain calm. "How is that not fair?"

“Why? Why now?” your voice becomes louder with your growing frustration. Jake's own frustration flares up in response to your growing anger. His hands clench into fists at his sides as he tries to control his emotions.

"I can't explain why now!" he snaps, his voice rising to match yours. "I don't know why I didn't say anything before. I was a dumbass, and I'm sorry!" He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving your face. "I... I just wish I could go back and fix everything.” 

You open your mouth to speak, yet nothing leaves your lips. Jake notices your hesitation and his expression softens slightly, hope flickering in his eyes. He takes a step closer, his voice quieter now.

"Please. Just... say something. Anything." his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer, his hand pressing into the small of your back. You stay silent, unable to process his words and find a response. 

Jake's touch on your waist is firm but not overpowering. He pulls you closer, his eyes searching your face for some kind of response. He notices your silence, the way you seem to be frozen in place. His brow furrows with concern. "Please, talk to me," he pleads. "Don't just stand there." 

You cover his mouth with your hand, needing a second to think. Jake freezes as you place your hand over his mouth, preventing him from speaking any further for the moment. He instinctively responds to your touch, however, pressing a soft kiss against your palm.

His eyes fix on yours, full of hope and anticipation, waiting for you to speak. You feel your guard dropping with his affection, leaning into his body. 

Jake pulls you closer as you lean into him, his arms wrapping fully around you. The tension in the air eases slightly as he holds you tight against his body, his heart racing against your chest. He takes a deep breath, his chin resting on the top of your head. "Please, just talk to me," he whispers into your hair, his voice gentle and desperate. 

“Jake…” you press your forehead against his shoulder, “I..” Jake feels your forehead press against his shoulder, and he holds you a little tighter, his arms encircling you like a protective veil.

"Please," he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, "tell me what you're thinking." He gently tucks a finger under your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes search yours, desperate for some kind of response. 

Your eyes glance to his lips, hands grasping his sides. “I, uh. I don’t know what to say,” your tongue flicks out to wet your lip. Jake's body tenses as he leans in towards you, his breath warm against your lips. He holds you tightly, his grip firm but gentle.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmurs, the corners of his lips barely brushing against yours, "Just... just let me show you." His eyes search yours, filled with a deep mixture of desire and vulnerability. Waiting for your response, for any sign that it's okay to proceed. 

“Jake..” you murmur, his breath hitches at the tone of your voice, the sound of his name on your lips sending a shiver down his spine. He leans in even closer, his lips mere millimeters from yours, his eyes locked on yours.

"Say it again," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "Say my name again." you shake your head in response,  pressing your lips to his. Jake's heart stutters at the touch of your lips against his. He responds immediately, the tension between you snapping as he kisses you back.

He molds his body against yours, one hand gripping your hip to pull you tighter against his chest. The other hand moves to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He kisses you deeply, a thousand unsaid words translated through the contact. 

Your desire momentarily outweighs your grudge against him. Your resistance fades further as Jake's hand slides down your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. He caresses your body with a combination of firm desire and tender finesse, as if he's both demanding and reverent.

His hand cups your ass, his touch a combination of possessive and loving. He pulls you even closer, pressing your body fully against his, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth. He kisses you hungrily, his body craving more, but his hands remain gentle and careful. 

Jake pulls back from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you gasp for air, chests heaving as you take a moment to catch your breath.

His eyes remain locked onto yours, a mix of desire, hope, and something else - something deeper - swirling within them. His hands remain on your body, his touch possessive but tender. He runs his thumb over your cheek, a soft gesture of affection. "Say something," he murmurs again, his voice gruff with need. 

“I think,” you take a deep breath, “I think I should leave Jake.” your hands fall from his sides. 

As you speak, as those words leave your lips, something flickers in Jake's eyes. Fear, regret, desperation, all battling for dominance within him. He feels your hands fall away from his sides and his own hands tighten slightly on your hips, as if reflexively trying to pull you back.

"Please, don't go." His voice is thick with emotion, his grip on you bordering on pleading. "Please." your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him in for another deep kiss. Your brain constantly fighting the way your body clings to him. 

As your lips meet in another deep kiss, Jake melts into your touch like a man starved. His hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against his body, his touch firm and possessive.

He kisses you hungrily, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking connection and reassurance. His heartbeat thuds against your chest, his body reacting to your touch with a mix of need and desperation. 

He doesn't want to let you go. Not now. Jake's body presses even closer against yours, his leg slipping in between yours, creating a tantalizing friction as he wedges himself between your thighs.

His hands roam your body, his touch both rough and tender, a manifestation of the emotions he can't quite find words for. His mouth moves down your neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, more possessive, like a man marking his claim.

He needs you, and he's making it painfully clear. You moan softly, your head leaning to the side to give him better access. Jake's hands grip your hips as he kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path of fire along your skin. The sound of your soft moans only emboldens him, his own body responding to your noises in kind.

You feel him harden against you, a physical reminder of his desire for you. His kisses grow more intense, his teeth gently nipping at your skin as he tries to reign in his self-control. 

He wants more. He needs more. He growls against your skin, his hands moving under your shirt, his fingers tracing up your sides. He nips lightly at your collarbone, his own need growing with each sound that leaves your lips.

“Mm Jake,” you push against his chest, “Wait.” Jake's body stills as you push against his chest, his mind still clouded with desire. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes hazy and dark.

He tries to process what you're saying, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He swallows hard, trying to control his racing heart. "Wait... what?" His voice is low and hoarse, his body still pressed against yours, his hands gripping your hip. 

“Take me home,” you murmur, intoxicated by his body on yours. Your lips press to his with hunger, arms wrapping around his neck. Jake's brain struggles to process your words, his body still caught in the haze of desire that surrounds you both. But as your lips brush against his again, the sound of your voice, filled with need, cuts through the fog.

He responds to your hunger with his own, pulling you even closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, his body pressed completely against yours.

When the kiss finally breaks, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a ragged whisper. "Yes. Anything you want." you nod against his head, pulling him closer as you’re unwilling to let him go. 

Jake holds you tight as you nod, his arms encircling you possessively, not wanting to let you go either.

He takes a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts. But the feeling of you in his arms, the sound of your voice, the scent of your skin, they all cloud his mind and make it difficult to do anything but touch you.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his voice low and rough. "We need to go." 

“Mhm,” your hands wander down his chest, to his lower abdomen, moving to his belt. “We really need to,” Your touch on his body sets his nerves on fire, his muscles tensing under your hands as you move them lower. The feel of your fingers on his belt sends a shiver down his spine, his breath hitching at the contact.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure, but your proximity and your touch make it difficult. He grips your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to control himself. His voice, when he speaks, is a rough murmur. "Not here.”

You reluctantly pull away from him, handing him the keys from your pocket. Jake takes them from you, his fingers brushing against yours, the contact electric. He watches you pull away, his eyes following your movements closely.

He clenches the keys in his fist, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat in his veins. His body thrums with need, the need to touch you, to hold you, to *claim* you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Lead the way." you slide into the passenger seat of your car, putting your address into the gps, restlessly waiting for him inside. Jake slides into the driver's seat beside you, his movements quick and urgent. The sight of you in the seat next to him, the knowledge that he's about to take you home, only serves to heighten his desire.

He starts the car, his hand gripping the gear shift tightly, his knuckles turning white. He glances over at you, taking in your restless demeanor, and a smirk crosses his lips. He knows exactly how affected you are, and it only makes his own need surge. Your hand falls to his lap as you squeeze your legs together in anticipation of what's to come. 

Jake's breath hitches as your hand lands on his lap, the touch sending a jolt through his body. He can tell how tightly you're holding yourself, how the anticipation is affecting you, and it only adds to his own desire.

His eyes flicker down to your hand on his lap, and he has to fight the urge to pull the car over and take you right then and there.

He keeps his eyes on the road, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. "We're almost there." His voice is hoarse, filled with tension. 

“Almost,” you whisper in response, moving your fingertips over his bulge, teasing his body. 

Your fingers brush over his erection, and he lets out a strangled gasp. His hand flies to yours, pressing your hand against him, as if trying to both stop you and encourage you at the same time.

He clenches his jaw, his body tensing at your touch. "Tease," he mutters through clenched teeth, his eyes darting from the road to you and back again. He groans, his body aching for release. You move closer, using your free hand to unbuckle his belt. 

You successfully remove his belt, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. Jake's breath catches in his throat as you move closer, your hands working on removing his pants. His body tenses, both in anticipation and because he's trying to focus on driving.

He bites back another curse as you unbutton and unzip his pants, his eyes flickering between the road and your hands. He grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white with tension. "We're almost there," he repeats, his voice strained. "Just... just hold on a little longer." 

“Fifteen more minutes,” you groan, hand sliding into his pants. Jake's body jerks at your touch, his hips lifting involuntarily, seeking more of your touch. He lets out a low, ragged groan, struggling to keep his focus on the road.

He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Fifteen minutes," he repeats in agreement, his voice gravelly and rough, "that's it. I can last fifteen minutes." He reaches down, his hand covering yours, but not pushing you away, his touch firm and possessive. 

“Mm, but I can’t.” you murmur as you free him from his boxers, his erection standing straight up. Your words and your touch send a shiver down Jake's spine, his body responding to your every move. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, your touch like fire to his skin, the air in the car suddenly thick. "Jesus," he breathes, his head falling back, "you're going to make me crash."

As you stroke him gently, Jake's eyes fly open, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "If you keep doing that, I'm not going to be able to drive," he warns, his voice strained with desire.

Ignoring Jake's warning, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw, sending shivers down his spine. His body jolts with surprise and pleasure. Your hand continues to stroke him as your mouth moves closer to his erection, and with a strangled groan, he abruptly pulls the car over to the side of the road, the tires screeching against the pavement. 

His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and alarm, but he says nothing as you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, the heat of your mouth enveloping him. His hands fly to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you begin to suck, the rhythm slow and tantalizing.

His hands grasp your shoulders, gently but firmly, and he pulls you away from his lap. "Wait, wee can't do this here," he says, his voice strained with need and concern. His eyes are dark with desire, but he's visibly fighting to regain control. "Not here, this wouldn’t be right." His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the only sound is the heavy panting of your breath and the pulsing of his erection against your hand. 

You reluctantly pull back, your own desire warring with the understanding in his gaze. "Let's go to your place," he suggests, his voice still thick with lust. "We can... talk things out properly there." He releases you, his hands dropping to the steering wheel as he takes several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

He speeds to your place, rushing to get you inside. The tension in the car is palpable as Jake shifts it into park, his eyes never leaving yours. You both exit the vehicle, and he takes your hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle given the fiery passion that had flared between you moments ago. As you enter your townhouse, the urgency from the car seems to dissipate slightly, allowing for a brief moment of awkwardness to settle in. 

You unlock the door and lead him inside, the cool air conditioning a stark contrast to the heat that still simmers between you. Once the door is closed, Jake turns to you, his gaze searching your face for any hint of regret or hesitation. Seeing none, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's both desperate and tender. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the years of hurt and distance. His hands roam over your body, reacquainting themselves with your curves, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all.

The kiss deepens, and Jake's hands move to the button of your pants, his fingers deftly undoing it and sliding the zipper down. You gasp into his mouth as he breaks the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he kneels before you. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. 

His gaze travels downward, taking in your wetness with a mix of hunger and awe. "Fuck," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, before pressing his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh as he moves closer to your center. His tongue traces the line of your pussy, eliciting a moan from deep within you. His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he kisses and licks you with purposeful strokes, the heat of his breath sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

You lean back, falling into the couch, your legs spreading wider, giving him full access to explore and taste you. The tension of the day dissipates as he worships your body, his mouth working magic on your clit, his hands exploring and caressing you as if trying to make up for lost time. The air is thick with the scent of arousal, the only sounds in the room your muffled moans and the wet sounds of his tongue against your skin. 

Jake's eyes meet yours again, and you can see the need in them, the raw desire that matches your own. You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, urging him closer, whispering his name as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

As Jake continues to kiss and suck on your clit, you can't help but squirm against his mouth, the sensations building to an unbearable peak. You grab onto his shoulders for support, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. 

Suddenly, the dam breaks and you cum hard, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. He doesn't pull away, instead, he laps up every drop of your release, groaning with his own pleasure at the taste of you. 

As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse onto the couch, panting and trembling, your eyes fluttering open to meet his intense gaze. He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face. "See, we can still get along," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 

The sight of him standing there, looking so confident and desperate for more, makes your heart race. You can't deny the pull between you, the undeniable chemistry that's always been there. But as you look into his eyes, you know that this isn't just about sex. 

Jake's kisses slowly travel up your legs, turning from hungry to gentle pecks that make your skin tingle with sensitivity. His eyes never leave yours as he shifts his body, moving from his knees to the couch beside you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you can feel his heart racing in sync with your own. 

His other hand continues to trace patterns on your bare thigh, the softness of his touch a stark contrast to the fervor of moments ago. His eyes are filled with a tenderness that you never knew existed within him, and it's this that has your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. 

With trembling hands, Jake fumbles with his zipper, the metal teeth parting with a low hiss. His eyes never leave your face, the intensity of his gaze setting your skin alight. He swiftly pushes his pants down to his thighs, freeing his erection. It stands tall and proud, a testament to his desire. The room feels like it's closing in, the air thick with anticipation.

You pull him to you by his collar, kissing his lips hungrily. The fabric of his shirt is rough against your skin, but the heat of his body underneath is anything but. His tongue meets yours with an urgency that mirrors your own, your kisses deepening as his hand slides up your shirt, palming your breast. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his thumb grazes your nipple.

He pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. He kisses you again, his tongue invading your mouth with a passion that leaves you breathless. You can feel him, hot and hard, pressing against your wetness, and it's all you can do to not grind down onto him immediately.

Jake's hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of your body as if he's worshiping a sacred relic. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin as he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, sucking marks that make you shiver with pleasure. His teeth graze your skin, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a sting that makes your pulse race.

As your moans fill the quiet room, you can't help but move your hand to wrap around his erection. Your grip is firm, your strokes measured as you watch his face contort with pleasure. His eyes are closed, his head thrown back, and the noises he makes are pure, unadulterated ecstasy. You stroke him faster, your hand moving in a rhythm that matches the beat of your racing heart.

His hips buck upward, meeting your hand with each stroke, his breath coming in short, ragged pants. You can feel the tension in his body, the coiled spring of his muscles ready to snap. And when he's right there, on the precipice of climax, his head falls forward into the crook of your neck, his mouth finding your skin.

The feel of his needy moans against your flesh sends a shiver down your spine, your own body responding to the raw, primal sounds. You tighten your grip, your strokes becoming quicker, more erratic, your own breathing syncing with his. Each moan that escapes his lips is like a command, urging you to bring him over the edge.

His body tenses beneath you, his muscles tightening like a bowstring about to snap. And then it happens. With a guttural moan, he cums undone in your hand, his release hot and sticky as it coats your palm and fingers. His hips jerk upward, his cock pulsing in your grip as he rides out the waves of pleasure. His eyes squeeze shut, and his breath comes out in sharp gasps.

For a moment, there's silence, save for the sound of your own racing heart and his labored breathing. You sit there, still straddling him, watching him come down from the high of his orgasm. His chest is heaving, his eyes still closed as he savors the feeling.

You slide from his lap, relaxing into your couch as the weight of your actions crashes over you. You turn your back to him, biting your lip as you think about what to do next.

Jake watches you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body, still trying to regain his breath. He reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm, his touch gentle but insistent. "Look at me," he murmurs, his voice raspy and rough.

You turn to him with a breathy sigh, avoiding his gaze. Jake notices your averted eyes, his fingers moving to your chin, gently lifting it until you're forced to meet his gaze. 

"Don't look away," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. "I want to see you."

"Jake," you whisper his name, eyes softening at his expression. You knew it wasn’t a mistake, it couldn't be, not on your part. You've been in love with him your whole life, but what if it was all lust for him. 

Jake cups your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the lines of your cheekbones. He can see the mixture of emotions in your eyes - love, lust, fear, and regret. He gently shakes his head, his gaze intense.

“Jake, is this really what you wanted?” you take a deep breath, “Not just some game to you?” 

Jake watches you intently as you withdraw, his hands falling to your waist, his touch firm yet gentle. "This isn't a game to me," he says, his voice serious. "It never was." 

He pulls you closer, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've always wanted you, more than anything else," he continues, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "But I thought I lost my chance with you a long time ago." he presses a soft kiss to your chest. 

The tension in your body vanishes the second he speaks, you relax into his touch, audibly sighing. “Always?”

Jake smiles, his hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize every contour. "Always," he confirms, his voice a whisper. "Since we were kids." He pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against his chest. He can feel your tension melting away, replaced by an air of comfortable intimacy.

“You’re confusing,” you sigh, feeling his hands pulling you closer to him, his chin resting on top of your breasts. 

Jake chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. "I know," he replies, his arms encircling you possessively. "I've always had a habit of making you scratch your head, haven't I?"

He nuzzles his face against your chest, his tongue tracing a gentle line between your cleavage. "But that's nothing new," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I've always gotten a kick out of confusing you."

You gasp in response to his tongue, hands squeezing his shoulders. “Mm, fuck.” Jake feels your hands clenching his shoulders, and he grins against your skin, his tongue continuing to explore the valley between your breasts. 

"Language, princess," he teases, his voice laced with amusement. "You know how I feel about filthy mouths."His lips move up to your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. "Makes me want to shut you up."

“Are you going to be able to be professional at work?” your murmur, hands tangling in his hair as you force him to look at you.

Jake chuckles, his eyes meeting yours. "Are you kidding me?" he counters, his grin widening. "When have I ever been professional when it comes to you?"

He shakes his head, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "I've been trying to hide how I feel about you for years. Do you really think now that I've finally got you in my arms, I'm going to play it cool at work?"

“Jake,” you purse your lips at him, pressing a quick peck to his. “You know that I already have a problem with your coworkers…I don't want to make it worse.”

Jake lets out a groan of frustration, his hands moving to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. "I know, I know," he mutters, his lips returning to your neck. "But can you blame me for acting like a possessive jerk? You've got all those guys drooling over you, and it drives me insane."

“They only drool over me because of how form fitting my uniform is,” you reply sweetly, “Now imagine if they saw me in a bikini.” you whisper against his ear teasingly. 

Jake's grip on you tightens, his breath hitching at your words. "A bikini," he repeats, his voice dropping an octave. "Now that's a mental image I'll have trouble getting out of my head."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his gaze dark with desire. "You like teasing me, don't you?" he accuses, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You know what that does to me."

“I think we need to take a beach trip one of these days,” you smile innocently.

Jake's hands continue to roam your body, his touch growing more possessive. "A beach trip?" he echoes, his mind already filling with images of you in a bikini. "That's a dangerous idea, princess."

He leans in, his lips moving to your ear. "But I like how you think," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

[bradshawsvinyl]

Castles Crumbling

Tolerate It (Part two)

read part one here.

authors note: not sure if this is the ending you guys were expecting but I hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, miscommunication tropes.

It was two in the morning when Jake softly unlocked the door to the home he shared with you. He silently took off his shoes and went upstairs to see where you were. He knew taking off on you was wrong. He knew that you just wanted to let him in. All you ever tried to do was love him and all he ever did was shut you out.

He had been planning to propose to you. He was constantly in communication with your best friend Julianna. He was talking to her about things he didn’t quite understand like ring sizes and diamonds. He wanted to make this proposal perfect for you. He wanted to give you everything you deserved and more.

But work was stressing him out. Maverick warned Jake and the rest of the squad that they would be shipping off for an important mission in the next three months. The mission details were classified. All Maverick said was that they’d better prepare their families for the possibility that they might not come back.

Mortality had never scared Jake away from doing his job. He knew he was one of the best fighter pilots in the nation. That was why he was a part of Top Gun.

Mortality never scared Jake until he met you. He knew he loved you. You were the only person he ever saw a future with. Kids, a dog, a white picket fence, he wanted that with you. But in the back of his mind, he knew there was a chance that something could go wrong on a mission. He didn’t want to leave you alone with kids or make you a widow. He couldn’t do that to you. And so he did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran.

Jake crept upstairs and found you sitting up in bed reading a book. “I thought you would be asleep by now.” He said while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep if you’re not here. You know that Seresin.” You replied, still looking at the words in your hands.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right to shut you out and I-“

“Don’t even,” You interrupted him. “You can’t keep doing this to me Jake. It isn’t fair. All I've ever wanted to do was help you. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

“Baby, I know I'm sorry I'm just overwhelmed with work. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t know what else to do?” You replied, voice rising from anger. “You could’ve talked to me. You didn’t have to leave me here crying like an idiot over something that I don’t even know about.”

“I know it’s just that I'm not the best at dealing with my emotions.” He said softly. “I love you.”

“Why was Julianna calling you then?” You changed the subject.

“What do you…” Jake started.

“Don’t play stupid Seresin. I saw her call you five times in the span of 10 minutes. She’s my friend. You’ve only met her a few times. Why would she be calling you at ten o'clock at night?”

Jake’s just looked at you in disbelief. There was nothing going on between him and Julianna. He was simply asking her for her opinion on how to propose and what ring to buy. She was your best friend after all. He couldn’t believe that you would think he was cheating on you with her. If you asked him to give you the moon, he would’ve done it. No questions asked.

“What are you insinuating?” He said slowly growing more angry when he realized what you thought he was doing.

“I’m insinuating that you’re seeing her on the side.” You said, near tears. “Just tell me the truth Jake. I can’t keep sitting here wondering why you’re shutting me out. You can’t keep leaving me here like an idiot.”

“Listen,” he said while grabbing your hands. “There is nothing going on between me and Julianna. I just needed to ask her something. That’s it. I would never cheat on you. You’re the only person I could ever love.”

“So why won’t you let me in.” You whispered. “If it’s not her then who? You won’t talk to me anymore. You won’t touch me. You barely even look at me.”

Suddenly Jake’s face dropped. “I might not come back.” He said, so softly that you might have missed it if you weren’t right next to him.

“What do you mean you might not come back?” You said growing more and more confused.

“Maverick said that this next mission is going to be dangerous. He said to hope for the best but expect the worst and I just-“ Suddenly Jake started sobbing.

You were shocked. Suddenly things started making sense. He was shutting you out because he didn’t want you to be hurt if he didn’t come back. You knew Jake tended to be more quiet when there was a tough mission coming up.

You pulled him into a tight hug and began to comfort him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on with you.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just trying to protect you.” He said.

“I’m here for you no matter what.” You said, eyes beginning to fill with tears. “We’re a team. You have to tell me if there’s something happening. I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” He said while kissing your cheek. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I should’ve told you about the mission sooner. You’re my rock. I love you.”

As your tears and Jake's tears subside, he holds you tightly. You hold him back feeling all the walls between the two of you crumble.

Jake knew two things for certain. He would come home to you, and he would marry you.

[thewulf]

That's a Kill || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Y/N Kazansky. The Admiral's daughter. You always had to prove yourself to the boys. The good old boys. You never thought much of any of them, knowing you were better than them. That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You meet Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin who drives you nuts, the first day. You start to fall for the man in front of you as he does the same.

A/N: You all really are the sweetest. This one is a bit longer. Hope you enjoy! I Appreciate the feedback! All fluff. We're also pretending Ice is completely okay - no cancer :)

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 8,900+

Part 2 | Part 3

You weren’t sure you wanted to be a pilot when you were a kid. Over the years you learned to love flying, especially with your dad. He had always encouraged flying but never forced you into anything you didn’t want to do. Your brother on the other hand had decided he wanted to be a pilot just like his daddy. He became a damn good one at that. But you, you were exceptional. Once you decided you did want to become a pilot you weren’t going to stop until you were the best. You kept true to your word; you were one of the best. You graduated first in your class at Top Gun, earning the coveted picture on the wall. It wasn’t without challenge though. People made many assumptions about you because of your dad that you had to overcome. Once you did, you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were so different than your dad, oh so different. Your dad, the legendary “Iceman”, Tom Kazansky, was a cocky son of a bitch (his terms, not yours). He always got whatever he wanted. He was cool, calm, and collected Tom. He was ice cold. He was Iceman. It worked for him.

But you, you decided from an early age that you caught more flies with honey than you did vinegar. You quite literally killed them with kindness. It became your thing. You only seemed to grow kinder over time, never letting anybody walk all over you though. It worked for you.

You shamelessly tried to hide your lineage, but it just didn’t work with your brother’s big mouth and your rather recognizable last name. Kazansky wasn’t easy to hide with your dad being an Admiral and all.

The word spread quickly of the Admiral’s daughter joining the ranks of Top Gun. You kept your head low and worked hard. You were kind to everybody in your class confusing your instructors who had to deal with your brother, and your dad, not that long ago. You didn’t have the ego nor the cockiness your lovely father and brother had. You were laid back, kind, but so sure of yourself.

You were a quiet one too. You never spoke out of turn only when you were addressed. Just a quiet observer in a world of crass pilots who thought they were the best. You knew you had a leg up on all the boys in your class, you were trained by your dad and Maverick from a very early age. You were yet to beat either of them, but you swore your day was coming. Each time you went up in the air you were determined to fly even better than the last, they both noticed. They knew you were special, Y/N Kazansky.

When you were in the air you were just as cool, calm, and collected as your dad. You knew you were better than your brother you would just never dare to say it out loud. You flew just like your dad did. Ice cold. You had that something special that everybody chased after. People didn’t know how to deal with you, your personality didn’t match up with the girl who flew. It made you smile, they always walked on eggshells around you. You knew you held the power you just never took advantage of it.

Your personality is what got you the callsign Lava. Everybody claimed you were the exact opposite of your father. You wanted to disagree with them, you and your dad were more alike than anybody knew. But you couldn’t fault them, the way the two of you presented yourselves was completely different. You were kind, you smiled at people, and you helped others. You had to laugh at the subtle shade that was being thrown your fathers way. You knew how cold he could be, but you also knew how loving of a guy he really was. You loved the entire situation, so you embraced your callsign. What was the opposite of Ice? Fire. But Fire didn’t sound as cool as Lava, per the boys, so Lava it was.

The instructors couldn’t quite grasp who you were. You were a sweetheart on the ground but a menace in the air. You didn’t even sound like yourself when you were giving orders and having the time of your life in the sky. You proved them wrong time and time again in the air. They thought you only got into Top Gun because of Ice; boy were they wrong. You just had that little something extra that other pilots didn’t seem to have. You couldn’t put your finger on it, nobody could figure it out either. That was years ago now, you had graduated Top Gun first in your class two years prior.

You went on a few decent missions that brought you some sense of accomplishment. You were sure your father had something to do with all the lame assignments you had been given over the last few years. You were the best of the best and you were going on missions that any pilot could go on. You had blowout arguments with your dad about it. He claimed he never did anything, you just had to believe him even though it didn’t make sense to you.

That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You were called back just like the rest of them. You were a few years younger than the majority of group that was invited. You weren’t familiar with anybody you were briefed on. You’d certainly heard of them though; they were all very well known within the Naval Aviator ranks. The best part about being a Kazansky was getting to know who you were going on missions with.

“No Will?” You asked your dad. Will was your older brother, three years older. He had gone to Top Gun with a few of the people on this list of twelve. You recognized Hangman from his class. Will always complained about him telling you the stories of how he earned his callsign Hangman. Will always referred to him as Bagman, you made of note of that one in your head. You grinned seeing him on the list knowing he’d be a tough one to deal with.

Your dad shook his head, “No, he isn’t ready yet.”

You nodded your head eyeing your dad curiously, “Must be serious then?”

“More than you know Y/N. Please, be careful.”

You hid a smile from your face seeing his apprehension. You knew it had to be one hell of a mission, “Yes sir.” Finally, your chance at something big.

You had gotten the invitation just like the rest, to meet everybody at the Hard Deck the night prior to your reporting day. You really didn’t want to go but you had a feeling that everybody else was going to be there. You were mortified when it said to show up in uniform. You considered showing up in your civ gear but decided it would be worse if you were the only one to show up in regular clothes.

You ended up going in your uniform trying to play it cool as you entered the bar. You quickly spotted the other aviators before slyly made your way over to them, all of them in uniform. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing it.

You sat down next to the most unassuming looking person there who happened to be shoveling popcorn into his face, “Hi.” You greeted him as you took a seat.

“Hi!” He smiled setting the popcorn down, “I’m Bob.” He stuck his hand out to you. He was a little dorky, but you just knew you were going to love him.

You nodded taking his hand gently in yours, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you Bob, what’s your callsign?”

He laughed while nodding his head, seemingly like he just went through this, “Bob.”

“I like it!” You giggled.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled genuinely seeming to not get that reaction all too often, “And yours?”

“Lava. Lav for short if you wish.” You smiled swinging your legs back and forth on the high-top chair.

“Noted.” He smiled at you while fixing his glasses, “How’d you get that name?”

You sighed leaning back into your seat, “My dad. Kinda sucks when your own callsign comes from somebody’s else.” You paused for a second before continuing, “My dad is Iceman.” You nearly whispered the last part. Everybody knew about Iceman. Iceman this or Iceman that. He was a legend among Top Gun piloting legends.

“You’re Admiral Kazansky’s daughter?”

You nodded looking your head down, “I swear I’m a good pilot Bob. I’m not just here because of the name.”

“I didn’t mean that!” Bob spoke frantically, “Just surprised is all, your kind of well-known but nobody really knows you. I’m surprised you’re here.”

You bit your lip in spite, “I believe my dear old dad had something to do with that. I’ve always flown the most basic missions. None of them worth a damn. Who knows how I even made it here?” You said grumbling in frustration.

Bob shrugged, “Who cares? You’re here.”

You nodded your head, “You’re right Bob, I am here.”

“And who do we have here?” A new voice interrupted the two of you. You slowly turned your head seeing your brothers favorite pilot leaning against the chair next to you with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. You had to admit he looked good. Better than the pictures ever showed. Your damn brother would never mention how handsome he was to you either, you weren’t surprised. Will had made him out to be some horrific monster. Not the tall, tan, muscular pilot standing before you.

“Y/N.” You gave him your sweetest smile knowing you’d have to kick up the charm to get through to him. You didn’t necessarily want to beat Hangman, you simply wanted to get into his head. You wanted to know he could be beat if you wanted to. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you were better than Hangman in the air you just had a sneaking suspicion you were.

His eyes flicked down to the last name embroidered on your chest. Kazansky big and bold for everybody to see. You heard him chuckle before looking up to you, “The other Kazansky. Thought you were some mythical creature. Nice to know you actually exist.”

You smirked seeing just how this man got under Will’s skin so bad, “Nice to meet you Bagman.”

He snorted setting his beer down ready for the conversation to begin, “Seems like your brothers got a big mouth. Where is he?”

“I don’t disagree.” You giggled, making sure to turn that charm up even harder than before, “Dad said he’s not ready.” Shrugging you leaned back into your seat wishing you had a beer to distract yourself with.

“That’s cold Kazansky.” He eyed you up and down taking you in. He didn’t know how much trouble he really was in before he initiated the conversation between the two of you. He was starting to get a sense of just how fucked he knew he was once you started throwing words right back at him with the sweetest look on your face. He knew right then and there you were going to be a problem for him, a thorn in his side. He got a rush just thinking about it knowing he had to continue the conversation on for as long as you would let him.

“Would you say, ice cold?” You tapped the table.

You heard Bob let out laugh from behind you, almost forgetting he was sitting there. Hangman shook his head leaning just a touch closer to you, seemingly being drawn in by you, “My real name’s Jake. Jake Seresin.” He stuck his hand out to you waiting for your response to his move.

“Will did not like you Mr. Seresin.” You took his hand gently in yours, just as you did Bob’s. Not reacting to his firm grip instead cocking your head to the side looking at him curiously. You felt him release your grip immediately. You weren’t sure why but that move made every man react the same way, almost embarrassed to be showing off to you.

He took a second to regain his composure, thoroughly enamored with the game he knew he had just begun with you. “I hope you don’t take anything he said to heart darling.”

Smooth. So smooth. You were a sucker for endearing names. He didn’t know that, and you couldn’t let that one slip. Your turn to regain composure. You just hoped your delicately crafted façade hadn’t slipped already, “Your telling me not to trust my own brother? Wow. That’s cold Seresin.”

“You don’t think family can be a bit dramatic sometimes?” The world around you two had seemed to slip away. You forgot Bob behind you. Hangman forgetting the game of pool he was playing with another guy, looked like Payback to you.

“A bit. But I don’t think my dad is.” You played the dad card not really caring that you did. Wanting to keep him on this toes.

You saw him visibly gulp, “Now, I know your joking.” He almost sounded, desperate? You knew you had to draw it back a little bit. Truth be told your dad only had good things to say about Hangman, some thing he needed to work on in the air but a damn good pilot otherwise.

You shrugged hopping up from your seat, “I’m getting a beer. Bob, you need one?” You turned back to the silent observer who was picking up on something between the two of you.

“I’m good.” He smiled back to you.

You waved at him before turning back to Jake, “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll have to find out Bagman.” You winked at him before making your way to the bar.

The rest of your night consisted of strategically staying away from Hangman. You didn’t want to get caught up with his antics just yet. You felt what Bob had seen earlier. The bantering between the two of you came way to easy. It didn’t take you long to warm up to a person, but you just felt connected to Jake instantly. You decided when you walked away from him earlier that you would have to avoid him at all costs. You didn’t really think the plan would work but it would certainly delay the inevitable. You knew the two of you would either become the best of friends or hate each other bitterly. You didn’t want the latter, so you decided to avoid it.

Any other night and you would have likely gone home with Harvard. You were instantly charmed by the Clark Kent looking man. You knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to go home with him once you realized you kept looking around for Hangman to see if he was paying attention to you or not. You accidentally caught his eye a few times instantly looking away. He smirked know he had gotten into your head. Physically, you were with Harvard but mentally, Hangman had caught your attention. So, he backed off, he saw what you were doing. He wasn’t dumb. He was thrilled when he saw Harvard leave without you. You moved back to Phoenix, still avoiding Hangman.

You got to know the entire Dagger squad the rest of the night. You were one of three women on the team of twelve, Phoenix and Halo rounding out the crew. You knew you would grow close to Rooster, hearing everything about him from Maverick, he was the life of the party. The squad welcomed you with open arms. You still avoided Hangman, knowing how screwed you were. But he knew, he knew he won that night.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Maverick was your instructor, a detail your father had refused to give you. You sensed the tension immediately between Rooster and Mav. You quickly remembered just how awful things were between the pair You didn’t know Rooster personally, until you met him last night, but you felt like you knew him from the stories you were told. You weren’t sure why you had never met him before last night. He was older than you are sure, but it still didn’t add up. Mav always said Carole had kept him to keep him from the Navy, one of the many failed attempts.

You were snapped back into reality when you heard the two quietly arguing with one another before the class was dismissed. You sat patiently waiting on Mav to pack up and the rest of the class to leave.

“Good class Mav. Can’t wait to start.” You grinned getting up from you seat.

“Kazansky. Good to see you kid.” He walked over wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Dad didn’t spill. Can’t believe your teaching us!” You squeezed him tightly.

He ruffled your hair after releasing you, “Didn’t know until a few days ago.”

“Oh Yeah!” You laughed, “You blew up the Darkstar! Dad told me all about it.”

“Course he did.” He chuckled guiding you out of the classroom. The next six hours consisted of field air training. You couldn’t be more pumped to have your hand at Mav again.

“Heard you went past Mach 10 though. That’s certifiable Mav.” You paused as you got to the front of the women’s locker room.

He nodded stopping with you, “Pushed her a bit too far. We’ll get her next time.”

You nodded along with him, “Good luck up there, old man.”

He feigned hurt by placing his hand on his heart, “You wound me Kazansky, I still don’t recall you ever getting me though.”

“Eat it.” You laughed walking into the locker room.

You changed into your flight suit quickly. Phoenix and Halo were already finishing up, they waited on you while you changed keeping you company. All twelve of you gathered in the training room waiting on direction from Maverick.

“Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster. Your up first.” Mav spoke in the doorway entry exiting quickly to his plane. The nine of you tuned the radio into the channel listening into the chatter between all the aviators.

You simply smiled listening into the panic once Mav came on Radar between all the pilots. He had done that shit to you so many times before. So Maverick. You giggled when Payback and Fanboy nearly begged for 200 pushups, no idea what they were in for. Maverick broke the rules. He didn’t give a shit about the Navy’s policies. Maverick did what Maverick wanted to do. He always had your dad to pardon him, he was truly fearless.

You were up next once all three were eliminated. You were with Hangman. You audibly laughed once Maverick gave you your assignment. You turned to him radiantly, “Let’s beat him.”

He snickered, “Yes ma’am.” Whew, you nearly melted. You had to turn away quickly walking out of the training room and to your plane so you wouldn’t get distracted. You and Hangman were up in the air five minutes later in two separate planes, of course.

“Let’s see what you can do sweetheart.” He chuckled before breaking left away from you.

You audibly sighed forgetting you were on radio for everybody to hear, “That’s why they fucking call you Bagman.” You knew you were on your own, not that you minded. You were used to this game with Maverick. You heard Maverick audibly laugh, the game was on.

You had avoided him and tried to help Hangman, but Maverick was just too good. He knocked Hangman out first. Your turn. You lasted longer than you thought you would, pulling out all the stops and maneuvers you had been taught throughout all the years. You faltered when a flock of birds changed the plans in your head at the last minute breaking you right instead of left which left you as a sitting duck. You mentally cursed yourself when you hopped out of your jet joining Hangman in your 200 pushups.

“Not bad Kazansky.” Maverick patted you on the shoulder.

You shook your head, “That was not good Mav, and you know it. I should have seen those damn birds sooner.” You wanted to pout but replaced your frown with a small smile.

“You’re too hard on yourself kid. That’s the best I’ve seen you fly. Don’t sweat it. Plus, I need your head in the game. These next few weeks aren’t going to be for the faint of heart.”

You nodded, “Got it, Captain.” You smiled, “Now don’t mind me, I have a punishment I must fulfil.”

“Lieutenant.” He nodded before walking back to the training center. Grabbing the next pair of victims.

You dropped down and began your pushups. Jake was already past 150. You grumbled internally knowing he would be watching you once he finished. You loved having his eyes on you but him being this close was rather intimidating.

“Thanks for the help up there.” He spoke once he finished his 200.

You sighed knowing you were just going to have to have a conversation with him because you couldn’t move, “If you would have listened to me, you wouldn’t have been shot down.” You said as sweetly as you could muster. Pushups were never really your thing. You could do them. They just weren’t the prettiest nor the fastest.

“I disagreed.” He retorted.

“Thus, why you were shot down.” You said quickly, knowing how easy it was to get him upset. You just considered it payback.

He sat there quietly watching you. He didn’t really blame you. He blatantly didn’t listen to you on purpose. Not wanting to believe you were as good as he thought you were. Turns out you were better. He thought you might even be better than him. Especially watching you work with Maverick. He was in awe of your ability to control the aircraft. You were effortless in the air.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You spoke up breaking him from his trance.

He bit his lip sending shivers down your spine. Not good. Not a good reaction you thought, “I would if I could Darling, don’t seem to have my phone on me though.”

Smooth, he always seemed to have something to say. When he didn’t, he sat down and shut up to figure out how to get himself out of the situation. He knew you’d beat him though and that excited him beyond belief. He was yet to be matched and he knew that Y/N Kazansky would be the first to change that.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pig.”

He shrugged, “You suggested it Lava.”

You nearly recoiled hearing your callsign off his tongue. You truly didn’t dislike your callsign it just wasn’t frequently used for you. You were often called Baby Ice or Kazansky. You didn’t want to admit how good it sounded though. How much you liked hearing any sort of your identification coming from his lips. You needed to get ahold of yourself and quick.

You sighed getting up from the ground shaking your arms out, “Just try and keep up next time Seresin.” You smiled to him before walking away.

He walked up behind you almost making you jump. You weren’t expecting that. Kind of bold you thought, “Need any help stretching those arms out darling?”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. You really didn’t know how to handle this man. You could’ve sworn that my growing up around your dad and Mav you would’ve been prepared for any scenario. You were wrong about that. Jake Seresin was figuring you out quicker than anybody had in your entire life, perhaps he’s the only one that would be able to. That truly freaked you out. You had a finely crafted exterior that nobody had been able to penetrate. You were worried that was going to change and soon.

You shook your head, “Don’t even think about it Hangman.” You laughed smiling back to him. He really was a handsome man. Blond hair and green eyes. You were a sucker for a man with green eyes. You knew once he figured that out, you’d be a goner.

He smiled at your resistance. His breath got caught in his throat as you whipped around and greeted him with that smile. He was a sucker for a beautiful smile and man oh man did you have a million-dollar smile. He returned to his thoughts quickly as you turned back away from him, “Just offering sweetheart.” He followed you back to the training room where you were cheered for and greeted by the other pilots.

You weren’t sure what Mav was up to when he told the class to meet at the Hard Deck at 5 PM that night and to wear your ‘beach workout gear’. You were sure you were incredibly nervous as to what beach workout gear meant to the guys, specifically Mr. Jake Seresin.

You weren’t given much time to go home and change, Mav letting you go at 4 PM, giving you just an hour to get ready. You raced back to your temporary home looking for just the right clothes. You mentally cursed yourself for putting so much time and thought into what you were going to wear to this sunset workout, specifically for Jake. You had never done this sort of thing for any guy you’ve come across in the Navy yet somehow Jake freaking Seresin was beginning to wrap you up in his tangled web.

You groaned hitting your head softly against the wall. You knew your dad would be getting a kick out of this one. Your dad never thought anybody was ever going to crack your hard exterior, much less a boy from Top Gun. You were always so much more confident than anybody you had come across. Your dad would always comment on it, sure that you would rarely get challenged. But here came Jake Seresin to mess up all your plans and assurances.

Maverick was yet to catch onto anything between the two of you. You had gone up with Hangman a few more times, each time a little better than the last. All Mav noticed was the bickering between the two, seemingly no different than any other flight with Hangman. He seemed to bring out the fighter in everybody he talked to. But the bickering was different, for Jake it was. You were so much quicker and wittier than anybody he had come across. You seemed to have a response ready to go at the tip of your tongue no matter what he said. You only got tripped up when he mentioned not very work appropriate actions. Your face would go a light shade of pink when he alluded to indecent things in such a casual manor. He was ready to use that against you, simply bidding his time.

What Jake did notice was how damn good of a pilot you were though. He found that the two of you were easily matched. You were quicker and seemingly more agile in the air. He was better at locking onto targets than you were though, he locked onto Mav a few times but failed to hit him so far. Mav was as cocky as ever, so much fun to watch as he ripped through the air. Always proudly shouting his favorite phrase as he show the twelve of you down over and over, “That’s a kill.” You really couldn’t wait to use it against him one of these days.

After letting yourself think way to hard for a few moments you snapped back to the present. You decided on a simple set of a black sports bra and spandex. You through on a loose tank top fully intending to take it off if it got to hot in the San Diego sun.

You rushed down to the Hard Deck upset at yourself for leaving with such little time to spare. You hated being late, something your dad instilled in you at a very young age. That topped with your mom making you late to everything she took you to cause that sense of dread every time you were coming close to being late. Luckily, you got there with a few minutes to spare rushing over to Phoenix and Halo’s side.

Jake grinned when he saw you arrive a little frantically. He had picked up on your punctuality. You were always one of the first aviators to arrive in the classroom and in the field. He saw a glimpse of panic when you arrived far to close to Mavericks call time. He smiled knowing he had noticed another small thing about you. He never planned to use it against you only to use it for his advantage. He knew you were always early to things giving him a chance to talk to you alone, away from the other pilots.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Maverick called everybody to attention. He explained the rules of his made-up game of Dogfight Football. You were an avid football watcher knowing the game like the back of your hand. You weren’t allowed to grow up in house with Iceman and not know every rule like a ref would. What Maverick was explaining though confused even you. Nonetheless you split into two teams. Phoenix and Rooster on your team. Hangman, Payback and Cayote on the other. Halo was unfortunately snatched up by the opposite side, she lined up against Phoenix. Leaving you with Hangman. You wanted to complain about how unfair a matchup it was but could never give Hangman that simple satisfaction, so you shut your mouth.

“This ought to be easy.” He winked at you as he lined up for the first time against you.

You squatted down ever so slightly. You were fast but you weren’t Jake Seresin fast. You needed to take any advantage you have against him. Rooster also had you back against him in case he got by. Not that you were going to let it happen, “Do you ever just keep your mouth shut Bagman?”

“Now you know there’s no fun in that Lav.” That nickname was new from him. You had heard it time and time again from your various classmates and naval aviators throughout the years. But it was new coming from him. You liked the way it sounded more than you wanted to admit.

You hummed admitting he was partially right, “Not everything has to be a game, Jake.” You admitted sincerely, not sure where you wanted the conversation to go.

“Sure, it doesn’t.” He admitted, “But again, no fun in not making everything a game darling.”

He caught the small sigh that escaped your lips, “That sounds exhausting.” You spoke looking down to the ground trying to listen for both Jake and if the balls were being snapped.

He wanted to answer you honestly, it was exhausting for him. But he didn’t know how to turn that side of him off. So, he just let it happen. He knew it was something he needed to work on he just wasn’t so sure he was ready to admit that just yet.

The two of you worked well against one another, to your utter astonishment. You were both able to stop the other often, occasionally letting a good catch or run slip through. The game was utter chaos, yet you and Jake were able to stay in the little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You didn’t forget the world around you, you both just ignored it and focused on the other.

You about lost it twenty or so minutes in when Jake tore his shirt off and threw it over to the sideline where Penny was sitting. You bit the inside of your mouth to stop the face you were itching to make. You kept your eyes on his not daring to look down at his toned body. You knew you were toast if you looked down, so you opted to look ahead.

You heard Jake laughing before you saw it, “What’s the matter Kazansky? Never seen a shirtless body?” He spoke a little too loudly earning a chuckle from a few other pilots. Embarrassing. You were thankful your cheeks were already rosy from the workout hiding the stupid blush you know adorned your face presently. He really knew what to say to tick the right buttons didn’t he?

“Shut up, Jake.” Was all you could think of quickly before the balls were snapped again giving you a second to regroup.

“That all you’ve got Kazansky?” He egged you on once he blocked the pass that came your way. He was in your head and he knew it. You knew it.

You nodded, truly at a loss for words, “Yeah, you got me.” You admitted, maybe sounding a little too upset in the admission.

You noticed Jake’s features soften a bit. He was itching to reach out to you, to ask you what was wrong. You seemed more than fine a few moments ago. He knew a few silly comments wouldn’t throw you off your game that bad, but they seemed to this afternoon. He decided to back off a bit not wanting to push you too far. He knew you could handle a lot, but he didn’t know your limits. He didn’t want to push you over the edge.

You ran over to the side ignoring Jake’s silent protests. You spotted Yale sitting there taking his break, “Yale! Can you cover me? I need to talk to Mav.” You smiled as sweetly as you could to him.

“Sure Lav.” He laughed taking your spot across from Hangman. You saw Jake watching you frowning when Yale stepped in front of him. You watched him out of your peripherals as you ran over to Mav who was sitting in the distance letting the teamwork out the game on their own. Jake didn’t take his eyes off you until the balls were snapped bringing him back to the present.

“Mav!” You gasped when you finally reached him, the sand decided to humble you a bit leaving you out of breath.

He slid his aviators off raising his brows curiously, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You took a second to catch your breath, “I need you to have me switch teams.” You clapped your hands expecting him to oblige beginning to walk back to the game.

“No.”

“Great!” You stopped abruptly before turning a little startled by his answer, “Why not?”

“I made the teams purposefully Y/N. I’m not just moving you over. You’ve got to learn to work with what you got.” He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you inevitable rebuttal.

“It’s not that I don’t like my team Mav. They’re all great.” You stopped short not wanting to admit to your almost Uncle why you really wanted to switch teams.

“Then what is it Kazansky?” A small smirk was beginning to underline his features. Did he know? He had to of known. Or else he wouldn’t be doing this to you right now. You paused and thought this over with yourself. On one hand it was just Mav, maybe he knew the right way out of the little predicament you were in. On the other, it was Mav and he’d immediately be calling your dad up. You loved your dad but there were just some things he didn’t need to know while you tried to figure it out.

“I can’t play opposite of Jake.” You admitted softly.

Mav laughed, “I know he’s annoying Y/N. There’s a reason why I put him and you against each other.”

“It’s not that!” You groaned turning away from him. You wicked the sweat off your face with your damp tank top, knowing it wouldn’t be on your body much longer either.

“Then what is it, can’t help if I don’t know Baby Ice.” He full on smirked using your childhood nickname.

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll that already begun when you heard the name baby coming from him, he just loved to get under your skin too, “He’s too distracting Mav.” You gave him a wide-eyed look hoping he’d pick up what you were putting down.

He in fact did not pick up what you were putting down, “Too distracting?”

“Dammit Mav! You’re really going to make me say it.” You sat down next to him on the sand brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “I can’t focus when he has his shirt off. I forgot we were playing a stupid game there for a second.”

Mav’s face finally came to the realization of what you were telling him. His mouth formed a small o as he processed the information, “Jake really?” He laughed waiting for you to join in. When you failed to join him, he realized you were being serious.

“Mav that’s not funny.” You grumbled looking down finding the sand super interesting.

“I thought you detested him.” Mav admitted finally processing what his almost niece was telling him.

“I did! On the first day.” You threw your head back looking to the blue sky that was slowly beginning to turn orange. Cursing the timing of everything. You finally got a huge mission, and a stupid southern boy was going to distract you from it? You weren’t into boys the way your friends were growing up. You were a tomboy through and through and saw most of them as brothers, not lovers. This didn’t end when you graduated high school, college and even all the way through Top Gun. Nobody interested you. Sure, you had a few suitors and you dated sporadically but you never had a tried-and-true boyfriend. Your brother teased you until his face was blue about it sometimes. He had a few long-time girlfriends but none of them ever seemed to work out in the end, your only weapon against him. But that weapon was shattered when his girlfriend of three years accepted his marriage proposal. Not that you minded, you loved his fiancée Marissa and really couldn’t wait for her to marry into the family.

Marissa never gave you a hard time about it. She understood it made sense for you. You had something to prove in your Naval career that would likely get thrown off course with a serious boyfriend. You couldn’t get distracted, your career depended on it. That mindset worked. You were always the young one. You went to the Naval Academy at 17 and graduated by 21. You were invited to Top Gun at 25, the youngest in your class who turned out to be the best in the class, cruising by all the men. You knew you had a lot to prove being the daughter of Admiral Kazansky. It irritated you though that you had to work tirelessly for it while Will seemed to just have it. And now here you were, the youngest at 28. You had really hoped it was all worth it.

Maverick laughing pulled you back out of your mind and into reality, “Does Y/N Kazansky, my own Baby Ice, have a crush?”

If looks could kill Mav knew he’d be dead. He’s not sure he has ever seen such a look on your face before, “Mav keep it down.” You sighed not denying him.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.” He sounded a bit more serious this time. He had certainly not picked up on your feelings towards Hangman. He really thought you detested him. You body language made it seem like you really hated the guy, always standing away from him if you could. You snapped at him quite a bit, not ever losing your cool but not acting like that towards anybody else.

You nodded silently, “I do. But you can’t tell dad.”

“You’re taking the fun out of it for me Kazansky.” He sighed leaning back into his chair. He was happy for you although still confused. You really didn’t show any signs of it, maybe he was that oblivious though.

“Mavvvvv.” You sighed just like him dragging his name out like a toddler would.

“Fine. You have my word. I won’t call up Ice. But you’ve got to figure it out for me. I cannot afford to have you distracted kid. Either say something and own up to it or forget about it, alright?”

You gulped and nodded, “Okay. But you’ve got to give me a little time.”

“Sure. But this really is life or death Y/N. I need you here. All of you. 100% of that big ass Kazansky brain that you have. Do you hear me?”

You shook your head up and down hearing him. It frightened you a little bit. You understood how hard this mission was going to be, yet you had the confidence you could do it. You had yet to master the course but you, Phoenix and Bob were the closest group to completing the task yet. Only off by thirty seconds, you knew those thirty seconds were life or death though. Seeing Maverick this serious though threw the gravity of the entire situation right in front of you. A knot formed in your stomach finally understanding this was it, this was a true test of skill. You were picked because you were the best of the best. Maverick needed that Y/N, he was going to get that Y/N.

“I hear you Maverick.” You stood up, ready to rejoin the group.

“Good. And no, you still can’t switch teams.”

“Mav!” You eyed him angrily before returning to the game. Mentally preparing yourself for what Hangman was going to tease you with next.

You knew you couldn’t ignore it anymore when the Dagger Squad met for drinks at the bar and your eyes couldn’t seem to be taken away from the blond man. You now knew you didn’t have a type before you made it to this camp. But now you did. Jake Seresin was your type, just your type. You were entering week three of training, things have kicked up by about a hundred notches. Mav constantly reminding the team that it was life or death, day in and day out. He had to prove to the team it could be done. Boy, did he show off. Doing the whole course in under 2 minutes and 15 seconds.

You learned later that day that he was selected Team Captain. You saw how disappointed Jake was when it was announced. Mav decided to take his time selecting teams. The whole squad was in an all-out Dogfighting war during training, for the next few days at least. You were tired yet you refused to show it, having to prove yourself once again. You could see how exhausted the whole squad was, tonight was needed. Mav gave you the weekend to recover before one last session on Monday where he would announce teams. You were nervous. You had flown the course with a wizzo and without. Proving your capability with both. You desperately wanted to be picked. You were still nervous about the whole situation though, who wouldn’t be? One mistake and you could be dead. No pressure.

Jake noticed your eyes on him. He couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face. He might have managed to crack you, just a bit. He played it cool though. Wanting you to make the first move. He wanted to see if you crack or not. He did want you. He had never been so matched before. He was also sure he would never meet somebody who could put him in his place quite like you did. You beat him more often than not in the air. He was amazed by your flying. Only Mav was able to beat you and even then, you had come close a few times only to be outsmarted by the old-timer. You also challenged him when both feet were on the ground. You didn’t piss him off like most people did when they challenged him, he tried to become better.

He knew he really had liked you when you told Rooster off for the stupid death spiral that he and Maverick were in. You were the only one that was able to get through to Rooster as your words really cut like ice, your dad shining through. He watched curiously as Rooster walked away like a sad puppy, tail tucked between his legs. You, you were fuming. He was sure he hasn’t seen you so mad. You let out the most frustrated groan as you lightly punched the wall. Not stupid like the boys before you who had broken their hands on the cement behind it. He watched as you leaned against the walls collecting yourself. You took a moment before you stood back up fixing your uniform. You turned and spotted Hangman standing there giving him an awkward hello before walking away quickly. Yeah, he liked you. He liked you more than he really cared to admit.

He brought you over your favorite beer on tap sliding it to you as he sat at the high-top opposite you. You smiled thanking him and took a big swig from the glass, “Rough day?” Jake asked eyes softening just slightly.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You spoke, “Just been thinking about the mission, that’s all.”

He bobbed his head seemingly agreeing with you, “Kazansky scared? I’ll be.” He grinned giving you some much needed shit.

“Shut up, Hangman. You know that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed softly nodding in agreement, “I know Y/N. Some serious stuff.”

“You could say that again.” You downed some more of it, nearly finishing the glass in two drinks, “I guess you could say I am a little scared.” You admitted quietly waiting for him to interrupt. When it didn’t come you continued, “I’ve known Mav my entire life and I’ve never seen him like this before Jake.”

“That’s why were here.” He tried to cheer you up.

“I know.” You sighed finishing the beer off. Hangman was impressed, he was only a few drinks in. “It doesn’t make it any less frightening.”

“Shit, Y/N.” He spoke delicately, you traced your eyes up his body to his face wanting to hear what he had to say. He continued when he had your full attention, “You’re on of the best pilots I know. You might be better than me. If you repeat that I will deny it so don’t even try it.” He smirked continuing on, “You were born for this mission. Don’t let Mav freak you out. Go be that confident Lava in the sky, that you can’t be stopped.” He breathed out looking at you happily.

Stunned. You were stunned. And you were a hundred percent your face looked just as stunned as you felt. You were computing his words, yet it didn’t make sense coming from him. Soft Jake? Sweet Jake? You weren’t going to sit here and deny it. Especially because he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he took your glass and told you he was getting you another. He left you with that.

He was showing you a different side of him. You had seen the softened facial expressions and knew when he let up when you two were going at it. But this, this Jake was different. You were sure he was showing his true self to you. He came back and slid the beer over to you like he did the first time, smoother than ever.

“Thanks Jake. For the beer, for everything.” You smiled softly to him. You took your time looking at him curiously, fully drinking him in. Gosh, was he beautiful. He had that damn toothpick in his mouth. You loved that damn toothpick. You loved when he smiled with it too, his dimples always showed when he did. You could hardly take the green eyed, dimpled combination that was in front of you all too often. Mav was right, you needed to tell him, you were struggling keeping this one from him.

“Anything for you Kazansky.” He said without a bit of sarcasm in his voice. A chill ran down your spine, you were sure these physical reactions were going to give you away at any time now. You sat back slightly wondering how in the hell the Hangman had wrapped you so tightly around his finger. You were hooked. Truly hooked on every word he spoke, every look he gave you. How had he done that to you in less than three weeks? You weren’t sure. You didn’t really care either. Your head was already exploding in fear from the mission but with something else entirely when you thought of Hangman, something foreign to you.

“I like soft Jake.” You fluttered your eyes, clueless to the effect you were having on him. He too was utterly fascinated by your presence. He also wasn’t sure what you had done to him. But he sure well knew he would do just about anything for you. He was so drawn to every aspect of you. Your delicate smile you gave everyone and the genuine one you threw his way every now and then. Your calm and collected demeanor in the air, even when Mav beats up on you. Your sweet eyes and all the emotions you tried (but failed) to hide from him. He didn’t really want to wait on you anymore. He just wanted to tell you exactly how he felt so he could hold you, feel you, take you in.

“I like you. You know.” He admitted so nonchalantly you did a double take.

You sucked in a breath so taken aback by his admission to you, “You what?”

“Like you, Kazansky. A lot. I like you a lot. A lot a lot.” He grinned moving himself to the seat next you. He took one of your hands in his, picking your hand up so gently.

“You do?” You whispered, dumbfounded really.

“Don’t act so surprised Y/N. You’re incredible.” He kissed the back of your hand softly. Your heart nearly jumped out of your throat.

“Okay.” You nodded wanting to slap yourself in the face. Okay? Okay, was that all you had? You took a second longer to process what he was really saying, “You like me.”

He laughed scooting even closer, not dropping your hand but squeezing it instead, “I do Kazansky.”

“Well, that’s good.” You gave him that genuine Y/N smile he desired to see once more.

He chuckled inching even closer, your chairs were touching now, “That’s good.” He repeated back to you.

Realizing how dumb you were sounding you continued, “I like you too, Jake.”

He gave you his genuine Jake smile. You could’ve melted right then and there. You had to remind yourself that your fellow classmates were not too far off, “I know.”

You shook your head in response to that cockier than thou attitude, “Course you did.”

He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face, “It’s nice to hear you say it though, darling.”

You eyed your surroundings, not forgetting where you were. You were going to melt into this man and the wrong person was bound to see. You pulled him out of his chair pointing to the door. He grabbed the beers following you out of the bar as casually as possible. You found a spot on the back patio away from any prying eyes.

“Sorry, it felt… claustrophobic in there.”

He pulled you down, so you were sitting on his lap. You felt so self-conscious when he did so. Your breathing became uneven. He could feel your apprehension. Slower, he noted. He was excited to get to know you better. You were unlike any woman he’s ever met. He didn’t want to screw it up by doing something your uncomfortable.

“I should have asked. I’m sorry Kazansky.” He whispered in your ear trying to make you more comfortable. A full body shiver erupted when he did so. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. He just ran his hands across your back willing you into his embrace.

“S’kay.” You mumbled falling into his touch almost immediately. You relaxed against his chest quickly feeling at home in his arms. You fought to keep your eyes open, but they didn’t want to listen.

You felt him laugh softly as he moved his hands up and down your back. Seeing just how easy it was to get you to relax into him, “It’s only nine sweetheart.” The sun had begun its decent for the evening casting a beautiful array of oranges and pinks into the sky.

“Way past my bedtime.” You mumbled into his chest. You instinctively curled yourself closer into him. You took a long deep breath in smiling as you smelled him. He smelled so good to you, even after a long day he smelled so good, so Jake.

“Let’s get you home then.” Before he could shift you shook your head.

“No, please.” You sighed looking up to him. He was looking at you so lovingly. The droopiest eyes you’ve seen on him yet. It felt like every nerve on you was on fire, not feeling so tired anymore, “Just a few more minutes, you’re so comfy.” You dopily smiled to the lovestruck man holding onto you.

“Like I said earlier, anything for you Kazansky.”

You lit up at him, “Which reminds me, you’re going to have to meet my dad.”

He looked like he lost a shade off his tan as you reminded him. He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, “He’ll love me, promise darling.”

“We’ll see about that Jake.”

“We sure will.” He kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer.

-

Part 2

[mlqueen89]

One | Flyboy 

so cross your thoughtless heart  she's the albatross  she is here to destroy you 

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |     

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x f!oc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

w a r n i n gs : smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, one-night stand, jake being a cocky, self-assured man who leaves no crumbs after he eats. 

word count: 8,997

summary: in affairs of the heart, eleanor rigby has one strict rule: no pilots. Less than 24 hours back in the US, she breaks it. 

A/N: this whole entire fic literally started with the (full) name of eleanor. i also have a radar tech in the family, so that helped a bit. snowball met a steep hill and picked up speed. i've planned for ~10(ish) chapters, but it may be open ended with a few more random scenes/chapters here and there.  

proud to say that this one was beta read by my bestest friend, so you know she was mean to me helpful. 

also! i saw the asks - super excited to dive into those, tysm. ♡♡

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ♡ previous chapter ❥

Eleanor Rigby hadn’t wanted to go to the Halloween party, not really.    

The boxes stacked in the spare bedroom of her friend Nicole’s four-bedroom house desperately needed unpacking and the 10-hour time change from Western Turkey to San Diego was kicking her ass. She’d done about as much unpacking as was required to find a suitable outfit for her new job in the morning, folded them carefully and set them out.   

When Nicole had invited her out, Ellie had fallen asleep, mid-unpack of the rest of her belongings, waking only when the bubbly blonde burst into the room and jumped onto the foot of her bed, dressed in all her glory as Barbie.   

“Ellie does San Diego! Let’s goooo.” Nicole tugged at Ellie’s arm as Yanique flicked on the light in the ensuite, reapplying a purple-ish shade of lipstick as Ellie blinked against the sudden light in her dim room, her arm jiggled aggressively by an enthusiastic Nic.   

Bleary-eyed, her voice just a croak, Ellie politely declined, muttering something about starting her new job early the next morning and making a good impression. Nicole eventually relented with a huff and left, a little less than impressed, with their other two roommates, Yan and Sophie, in tow.   

Within 45 minutes, her phone buzzing against the hardtop of the nightstand, the voice messages started flowing in.   

Nicole’s first voice message was short, 12 seconds. Ellie’s thumb jabbed at the play button as she gathered the dishes from her girl dinner of toast and coffee and used her elbow to push down on the paddle door handle, making her way to the shared kitchen.   

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....   

There was a dull thud of base in the background somewhere, behind the long, pronounced whine of Nicole’s voice as she sang the beginning of her namesake Beatles song, horribly off-key.   

Ellie, please you have to come out. It’s Halloween, the most magical night of the year! Just make an appearance. An hour, tops. Please?   

Ellie moved through the kitchen, rinsing out her cup and placing it on the drying rack. Her head was in the fridge, scrounging around for an apple in the crisper drawer, when the next three messages came in.   

Please, pretty, pretty, pretty, please with like, a million cherries on top, even though I know you hate cherries.    

Bradley’s not here yet, Yan already left with a weird guy in a Frankenstein costume—do we know what kink that is? That has to be a kink, right? I’m not kink shaming though, I promise. He was just like... weird. Do you think I should get her to drop her location? Like, just in case?   

Soph is requesting Chappell Roan for the like, twentieth time, and I think she’s going to start a fight with the DJ about being an anti-feminist incel if he doesn’t play “HOT TO GO!” again... did you know that she broke up with that witch, wiccan girl from Hinge? HingeWitch? The one that had that study of cheeses in her bio, that blue cheese description—Ellie thought she heard Nicole pause to gag—anyway, I think she thinks she got cursed or something...    

The voice message cut off even though Nicole’s tone suggested that she wasn’t finished talking about Sophie’s ex.   

There was a garbled message in between the last one and the next, one in which Ellie could hear Nicole begging the DJ not to leave and promising to talk to her friend about the excessive requests for Chappell Roan.   

Don’t abandon me in my time of need, El. Desperate need. Like, jumping off of very tall somethings desperacy.   

Ellie smirked. Nicole, her very best friend in the whole wide world, quite possibly the vast universe, was, in fact, very dramatic.   

Quickly, before another voice message could roll in, Ellie hit record on her own before she bit into her apple, wrestling the third box out of a teetering tower of boxes in the corner of her room and hit send.   

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.   

The response pinged back quickly.   

Ohmygodohmygod, thank you! Remember, the theme is Icons through the Ages!   

Wear something sexy. Iconic sexy. Iconically sexy? But not Hawaiian Barbie. Or whatever Soph is dressed up as. I want to say is either Frida Kahalo or Mama Imelda from Coco. Basically, avoid anything with a Mexican gothic vibe.

Once Ellie had managed to pull her vintage leather aviator jacket from the box, the one she’d mislabeled in her hurry to pack everything up, the rest of her costume came together fairly quickly.   

When she found the venue, a small bar off a main street, she still had around 30 seconds to spare on her twenty-minute promise to Nic.   

Eleanor had always known that Nicole was popular, but the Halloween party, a party which Nicole had demurely announced was just “a small thing” with “a few work friends” was in actuality, not quite a small thing.  

Weaving her way through the crowd, Ellie scanned the room, trying to pick out the hot pink of Nicole’s costume or the flower crown Sophie had carefully woven into her voluminous red hair.   

Squeezing her way through a group of Spanish Conquistadors (notably with less armour and more exposed skin than was historically accurate) Ellie paused short of the small DJ booth in the corner of the bar, her eyes still scanning for Nicole when her eyes fell on him.  

Sandy blonde hair peeked out from under a neon sweatband, shoulders stocky and solid in a sleeveless denim vest over a t-shirt that read, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem. The white sneakers, short shorts, and that unmistakable lanky sway to the beat of Footloose pumping through the venue that could only belong to one person.   

It was Ken.  

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.    

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.  

Ken spun around with the beat of the song, a lopsided grin already on his lips as he faced her. “Holy shit, Rigsy?” Swiftly, Bradley Bradshaw was over to her, scooping Ellie off her feet, squeezing her tightly in a bear hug, shaking her frame slightly with a growl, before she groaned and he set her back down, feather light.   

“You didn’t say you were back stateside.”   

“My flight got in last night.” Ellie shrugged, straightening her jacket and adjusting the thin white scarf around her neck, “Just wanted to surprise you, Rooster.”   

“Well, damn it,” Bradley nodded in approval, all dimples and easy charm, “colour me surprised.”  

It was no wonder Nicole had fallen for him, head over Barbie heels. Even Ellie liked him, and that was saying something.   

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was less pilot and more golden retriever, a good heart wrapped in an all-American charm with an easygoing, dopey grin that made people feel like they’d known him for years. He was the kind of guy who’d lend you his jacket and forget to ask for it back or show up at your door with takeout and Sleepless in Seattle cued up on a streaming service he had to pay an arm and a leg for, because he “just had a feeling.” The Batman who responded to the Emotional Needs and Mercury Retrograde Bat Signal™. The hero the people deserved. Ellie was pretty sure she caught him watching videos of a baby hippo getting into shenanigans at a zoo in China on loop for 14 minutes while Nic tried to pick an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians that would really pique his interest and get him invested enough to make it his “new Roman Empire”.  

Ellie remembered the night Nicole and Bradley had met with perfect clarity.   

Nicole had been in the middle of swearing off all men for the foreseeable future, her voice thick with the brand of determination that came with a prosecco-fueled resolution. Ellie had watched as her friend declare a new era of singlehood and Taylor Swift before turning to Sophie, slurring out a request for “gorgeous, single women willing to humor an experimental phase.”   

It wasn’t two minutes later that Nicole lurched forward, losing all her resolve—and her prosecco—in a sudden, graceless bout with the sidewalk.  

As Ellie rubbed her back and tried to get her standing, a group of pilots had come down the street—Bradley Bradshaw among them, flanked by two others they’d later get to know as Phoenix and Bob. Bradley had been the one to stop, eyes quickly scanning the situation, assessing and then moving in with expert precision. He’d peeled off his jacket immediately, holding it out to Nicole as she moaned her embarrassment and weakly gestured at the puddle of what had once been bubbly and appetizers a few feet away.  

“It’s okay,” Bradley had told her, voice soft and reassuring. “If you throw up on this one, I’ll just get another jacket tomorrow.” When she’d protested, he’d grinned, shrugging in that effortless way of his. “Honestly, they just give these jackets to anyone,” he’d joked, as if he hadn’t spent years earning the right to wear it and every single patch stitched on it.  

Nicole had blinked up at him, mascara smudged, his jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at him like he was some knight out of one of the many cheesy rom-coms she loved. And for once, Ellie hadn’t blamed her for it.  

That night, Bradley Bradshaw had seen her best friend at her worst and treated her like she was worth sticking around for.  

And that was Rooster in a nutshell—a steady warmth that lingered long after he was gone, the guy who would do just about anything to make Nicole smile, including, but not limited to, dressing up in the ridiculous costume he was currently wearing.  

Nudging her, Rooster grinned. “So,” he drawled, “does this mean I finally get the best friend stamp of approval?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes, feigning a reluctant sigh, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d approved of him long before now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bradshaw.”  

“Too late,” he laughed, mimicking his head expanding dramatically before throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Already there.”  

Rooster grabbed his drink off the small table bordering the dance floor, draining the glass. “Love the costume, by the way," he sucked his teeth against the burn of the whiskey he’d downed, “I’ve not seen one Amelia Earhart here.” He craned his neck, searching in the dimly lit room.  

“You think the goggles are too much?” Ellie adjusted the strap on her head, pushing a loose strand of hair up underneath the band. “I think they might be cutting off circulation to my brain..."  

“An aviator is only as good as their headgear,” Rooster tapped the top of his head. “You’re just missing your call sign.” 

“Guess you must not be a very good one, then.” Ellie smirked, snapping the neon sweatband on his head with a laugh.  

Rooster levelled her with a narrowed gaze, but there was no heat behind it, “one day someone is going to love that you’re kind of mean.”  

“Sorry, Bradshaw—” Ellie pointed at her ears, shrugging as she stepped back, a smirk on her lips, retreating into the crowd “—I can’t hear you.”  

Rooster flipped her off, in an affectionate way, she assumed. “Sit and circumnavigate, Rigby.” 

With another laugh, Ellie turned and set her sights on the bar, squeezing her way through a grouping of zombies and a Michonne, who stood shoulder to shoulder with a Negan, complete with Lucille, tugging her scarf out of Zombie #1s grasp on the other side. 

The last tug, sharp and forceful, sent her stumbling over the tattered chiffon hem of the La Llorona’s dress at her back.  

Ellie braced for the rough landing as she attempted and failed to steady herself. She felt the fall in her stomach, the way it pitched as gravity pulled her down. She figured it served her right, the swift intervention of karma coming for her after she’d insulted its favourite pilot — Rooster was going to have an absolute field day over this. 

Ellie had been so lost in the idea of bracing for the impact of the ground, hard and sticky, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t fallen until she looked up and saw a lopsided smirk and green eyes, looking down at her. The realization there were hands hooked under her arms, holding her up came quickly after. 

“And here I was thinkin’ that Amelia Earhart had a reputation of staying upright.” The man was all smirk, dimples ghosting his cheeks, as Ellie blinked up at him, processing the situation. 

“Guess I’m overdue for a refresher course on emergency landings.” Ellie cleared her throat, righting herself with his help before she tugged her bomber jacket back into place. 

When she glanced up from her improved angle, Ellie could see just how striking he was—sharp jaw, confident eyes, and a natural swagger that suggested he knew it, suggested he knew women sized him up in more ways than one. 

“What are you drinking, Amelia?” 

“Nothing, yet.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”  

The music pumped anew, the DJ spinning a Thriller remix, as she approached the bar, the presence of the man at her back as she weaved her way through the crowd. She could feel the hover of his hand at her lower back, ready to catch her if she took another tumble. She hadn’t been expecting much from the night—just a few drinks, maybe some small talk with Nic, a short discussion with Sophie on Chappell Roan’s representation of duality in the midwestern identity to prove that she’d come out and spent the appropriate amount of time there. But as she took the beer the bartender slid her way and the man leaned against the bar next to her, she couldn’t help but smile. She definitely hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Let me guess,” Ellie’s eyes scanned his costume then, taking a moment to take stock. Carefully, she scanned the skull patch, dagger in its teeth, VFA-151 stitched in below, the chevrons, patches, carefully piecing the images and small details of his costume together before she replied, eyebrow raised, “you’re a pilot—” she paused to sip her drink, her eyes falling on the patch on his bicep, “—Navy.”  

A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth as he gave her a slow once-over, a scan he didn’t bother to hide, before he leaned casually against the bar beside her. “Hangman,” he said with a smirk, and Ellie’s eyes dipped to the patch on his chest, the golden wings stitched above the call sign. “Best pilot you’ll ever meet.” 

She tilted her head, gaze sliding from his call sign back up to his face. “Best pilot, huh?” She gave him a once-over that was part skepticism, part intrigue. “You Navy guys really know how to sell it.” 

Ellie leaned into the bit hard. Tonight, she was Amelia, and he was Hangman, the name stitched into hundreds, if not thousands, of storebought costumes. If she were Navy, she might have been insulted. 

If he heard the skepticism in her tone, he ignored it and chuckled, not breaking eye contact as he matched her smirk. “Only because it’s true. Besides,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “don’t have to sell anything when you’ve got it all.”  

Ellie raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge head-on. “Big words for someone who still hasn’t proven a thing.”  

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning in just close enough to lower his voice to a rumble, “I’m very good at proving myself.”  

She laughed softly, a glint in her eyes as she set her drink down. “Okay then, why don’t you start with this—” Ellie leaned in, her finger tapped lightly on the golden wings over his heart, her touch lingering. “Explain why they call you Hangman.”  

She waited, waited to see if he’d squirm, held his gaze and paused for the story that was sure to come. Some feeble attempt at role playing for an unpracticed character, just a call sign with no real bite, no real story.  

He smirked, clearly used to that question but still savoring her attention. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he teased, straightening, “after all, you strike me as a curious type. And I’d hate to ruin the mystery.”  

Ellie chuckled, leaning back as she looked him over. That was his game, wasn’t it? A tennis match, a steady volley and lob. Two could play at that game. “Maybe I’ll get bored before I do.” Ellie added a shrug to punctuate her words for effect.  

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” His voice held a hint of challenge, his gaze lingering, his grin lazy but sharp. He straightened up, hand resting on the bar, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.  

“Guess we’ll see,” she murmured, lifting her drink to her lips, her gaze unwavering as she took another sip. She looked away for just a second, but not before she caught his confident grin widening.  

“Believe me,” he said with that maddening confidence of his as he leaned in, so close that his voice was low, the heat of his words warming the shell of her ear, “I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you entertained.”

Ellie had barely unlocked the front door to Nicole’s place when he was on her, his hands on her hips as he pressed her into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her like a man starved, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her to him.  

This was the culmination of the barely veiled innuendos, the heavy-handed flirting that had gone on all evening.  

When he’d slipped out of the bar and onto the street with her, Ellie knew what would happen. He knew what would happen. She could tell in the way his eyes raked over her, all want, pupils blown wide. He wanted her and she wasn’t shy to admit, maybe not out loud, but to herself, that she wanted him too.  

“Maybe we should—” Ellie’s breath was uneven, her mouth missing his the moment they broke apart, just long enough for her to tip her head in the direction of the stairs.  

“Yeah—” his reply was equally breathy, his eyes on her lips even as she spoke, his tongue jutting out to whet his lips. A thrill shot through her, one that dipped low and pulsed between her legs.   

She was wet already, she could feel the slickness of herself, the material of her panties weighted with the evidence. In response, in a swift motion, he picked her up and Ellie instinctively spread her legs so that they framed his waist, her ankles locking at his low back. Ellie didn’t need to be told, she gripped him with her thighs, squeezing tight as he chuckled.   

“Good girl,” he smirked against her mouth before he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing inside to taste hers.  

When they reached the top of the stairs, she broke from him only just long enough to give directions to her room in as few words as humanly possible, reaching out to grip the door frame of her room as he carried her down the hall and almost walked past it.  

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he wasted no time in pressing her up against the wall. His fingers worried the buttons, slipped each from their place, starting from the bottom up as Ellie took her bomber jacket off, tossing it and the goggles to the floor before she joined him in working on the buttons from top down.  

“So many—” his breath came out with an edge of frustration and Ellie gave up on her buttons to tug the zip of his flight suit down to where her hips met his waist.    

“Just rip it,” Ellie huffed out, voice unsteady as his lips dipped to her neck, teeth grazing the spot where her collarbone met the base of her throat. One less thing between his mouth and her skin warranted the sacrifice of a shirt.  

He didn’t waste time, didn’t question and the sudden coolness on her skin and the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, scattered, had her grinning. She liked a man who followed orders. “You owe me a new shirt, Captain.”  

“Lieutenant,” his voice rumbled into her skin, making quick work of her bra next. By the time it hit the floor to join the other articles of clothing, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples, every pinch and pressure, every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth sending surges of raw pleasure pulsing down.  

Ellie hated the way he ripped the sounds, raw, unabashed, desperate, from her. Hated how she’d folded under his smooth charm — she could have stopped it, could have said good night and left him at her door. Touched herself, alone, in bed, thinking about the way he’d been so eager to prove he was the best, picture how his touch would have felt, how he would have filled her as she coaxed herself over the edge and leave it at that.  

But she hadn’t, she’d wanted him —she’d own that. She wanted him to fuck her stupid. She could feel him, the hard outline of his cock pressing against her as he held her to him. 

“Easy, darlin’,” he chuckled lowly, rough around the edges as she shifted, reaching to touch him over top the Nomex. “We haven’t even started yet….”  

He was across to her bed in a few easy strides, carefully setting her back so that she sank into the pillows, his hand lingering at her waist as he leaned over her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze held hers, steady and unhurried, as he let his fingers trace lightly over the edge of her jaw, his index finger coming to rest under her chin, his thumb smudging her bottom lip.  

As his thumb traced her lip, smudging her lipstick, she caught his hand and pulled his index finger into her mouth, closing her lips around the digit, tongue tracing purposeful patterns as she slowly dragged it out. Her eyes never leaving his as he huffed out a heavy breath, a thrill running through her. 

“You should know that I have a rule, sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning over her so that his arms framed her, so close that his nose brushed hers as he spoke, his voice low, deep, edged by the hard edge of desire. “Ladies first.” 

Her pants were off quickly, leaving her in nothing but a whisp of material separating her from the man who wanted all of her. She heard the jingle of dog tags as he lifted the white shirt that had been under the flight suit over his head and abandoned it. 

Before she could sit up to see him, stripped down to his boxers, he was back on her, lower.  

Softly, he kissed her inner ankle, the next kiss trailing higher, her calf, another on the inside of her knee and the next, on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core.  

She was a wreck, a hot, wet wreck and she was barely holding onto the part of her that was ready to beg him to touch her. The part of her that wanted all of him in a way that was driving her mad every moment he wasn’t touching her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, measured as he touched her over her panties, his rough fingers brushing over the dampened spot of the material. The sound that left his lips, a quiet hissing intake of breath, told her he knew what he was doing to her, knew that he had her right where he wanted her.   

In response, Ellie writhed, sensitive to even the smallest brush and despite herself, a small moan left her lips, one she couldn’t have contained even if she had wanted to. What was the question again?  

He moved up from the altar between her legs, nipping a sensitive spot on her side where her ribs ended before he remedied it with a soft kiss, blazing a trail up her body with his mouth. Carefully, holding himself just above her, he bent to tease her nipple with his tongue, whetting the already hard peak, before he closed his lips around one and then moved to the other.  

Ellie was barely holding on, her vision edged with haze as he looked up to finally locked eyes with her. If he kept it up at this rate, he wouldn’t even need to fuck her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, his body propped up over her as Ellie tried to order her thoughts, process them into coherent words. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?”  

She could feel him against her thigh, hard, ready, the thin material of his boxers the only thing between her and all of him. There was some small satisfaction, a thrill that swept through her and coiled low in her stomach, that there was a part of him he was barely controlling a part of him that wanted to be inside of her now. The wet spot of precum on his underwear ghosted against her bare skin and she swore she could feel him twitch.  

Hangman, she’d asked at the bar, explain why they call you Hangman.   

Mystery solved.  

“I want—” she started, barely a whisper as he kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her jawline, his fingers slipping under the top waistband of her panties as he continued to nip at the most sensitive spots on her neck.  

“You want…?” He prompted, waiting, even as his hand slipped lower, slow, calculated.   

“I want you to—,” Ellie lifted her head and muffled her moan into his shoulder as his fingers found her slick clit, massaging lazy circles, steady, calm, “Mmm.” Her nails bit into the muscles on his back as her head fell to the pillow, arching into his touch.  

“Guess, it is then.” He murmured, that infuriating smirk in his words as he pulled his hand away from her slick, stopping the steady rhythm she’d just gotten used to. She whined after the loss, but he didn’t give her much time to mourn before he was down between her legs again, his fingers dragging her panties off.  

Swiftly, he pulled her to the bottom of the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Ellie gasped, her hips bucking up into his tongue as he swept it up through her folds. Calmly, as she inched closer to unravelling completely, ascending the slope at dizzying speed, he gripped her hips, controlling her movements as she pressed down against his mouth. 

She could feel the pressure building with every expert movement of his tongue over her, through her. Reaching down, she combed her fingers through his hair, gripped into it and tugged him over, directing him to her need.  

“Oh, god….” Ellie whined, the words just barely words as they dissolved into a moan, her free hand gripping the mess of sheets underneath her.  

“Hangman’s fine, gorgeous.” The response was quick, cocky. The response of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her and taking his time. 

“Wait,” Ellie’s hips chased after his mouth, a groan on her lips as she threw her arm across her eyes. “Don’t stop—.”

He was torturing her now, bringing her just to the edge and then allowing her to come down just enough to bring her back up again. He was fucking good and he knew it. It was going to drive her insane with want. 

“You have to say please, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath on her inner thigh almost too much, carefully, he touched her with his thumb, a light pressure as he teased her. Ellie could hear the smirk in his words.  

Words. What were words? Ellie's mind was short-circuiting. Short-circuited, past tense. Already gone. Wires crossed— leads jammed in the wrong place, signals crossed.     

She hadn’t wanted to fall apart under his touch so easily, she'd wanted to seem like she wasn’t desperate for him, but his touch was a warm fire on a cold night.    

“Ple—fuck,” Ellie moaned, her words dragged out, long and torturous as she felt his thick fingers slip inside her, slow and deliberate.     

She didn’t even know his real name, wasn’t even sure if she could manage to say it even if she did. He was undoing her carefully, piece by piece, sensation by sensation, she was malleable under his touch.    

“What was that darlin’?”    

Ellie might have been embarrassed at the squelch of her wetness as his fingers stroked in and out, excruciatingly measured, but she couldn't think about anything. Just the way he filled her while still leaving her wanting more, more, more.    

“Please—” her nerves crackled like livewires as she moaned, her hips moving against his fingers with each stroke, her movements almost involuntary, the wild need in her chasing the high, just out of reach.     

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” his voice was husky, lower now. He gripped her hip, holding her, steadying her rhythm before he added another thick finger, three deep in her now, his thumb moving in circles around her swollen clit.    

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking a moment before his mouth dipped to her hot center, alternating between sucking and the slow caressing tip of his tongue, creating just the right amount of excruciatingly perfect sensation, his fingers stroking and curling inside her. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Might not—” 

He might not fit. She finished his words in her mind, a secondary thought, one that made her mad with want. 

She breathed through the sensations, jolted and writhed as his pumping digits searched for the spot that made her see stars. She felt drunk, high, soaring, just on the edge of release, her muscles aching to reach the peak before she tumbled over, completely undone.    

When she finally broke, her back arching off the mattress, her hips grinding harder into his hand, she moaned into her forearm to muffle the sound. 

That air of self–assured cockiness he carried himself with at the bar, the swagger. It was all well–earned, she was coming to realize. Pun intended. 

“You know what they call a pilot with at least five confirmed air-to-air kills?” His voice was low as he drew his fingers from her, slipping his arm behind her still arched back as he leaned over her, his heavy cock pressing up against her throbbing pussy through his boxers, hard, ready.  

She was hyper aware that she still wanted him, inside her, filling her, spreading her to her limit in a unique mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Hmm—Ace?” Ellie’s mind was still hazy, vignetted around the edges as her heart hammered against her ribs. 

It happened in a moment, a quick change of position, as he lifted and turned, positioning himself under her so she straddled him. Smooth and calculated, precise and fast, an expert maneuver.  

Ellie could feel her bare wetness against him, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her touch. In the dim light of the room, she could see the glint of his dog tags hanging off to the side, a small detail of his costume she wished she might have looked at before, in the bar.  

“Ace.” He smirked up at her before he shifted her hips up and he pulled her down over his face. 

Ellie gripped the steering wheel tightly, the worn pleather creaking under her hands as she leaned forward and angled the rearview mirror sharply so she could get a better look.   

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, her fingers hovering just over the purple mark on her neck, just above her collarbone. How she hadn’t noticed it in the mirror this morning, she wasn’t quite sure.  

“Seriously? A fucking hickey?” She was already digging around in her purse as she huffed, her fingers blindly searching for the concealer she knew wouldn’t be there because she could see it in her mind’s eye, sitting on the edge of the porcelain countertop in her ensuite bathroom. “Are we fourteen?”  

This was definitely topping her list of things she didn’t need her first day on a new job site, especially not Miramar.  

When Ellie had woken up that morning, the sun barely peeking through the half-shut blinds, she wasn’t surprised that she was alone in bed. There was no note, no forgotten sock, no evidence, save for the dull ache between her legs and a tender, purple love bite on the inside of her right thigh as evidence that last night had even happened.  

That was what one-night stands were though, right? One night.  

Even under the hot stream of water from the shower in the ensuite though, Ellie closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back, only shaking herself from the thought of him when the alarm from her phone buzzed it right off the counter.   

Groaning, Ellie blew out a noisy breath, abandoning the purse search when she found nothing other than a stray mint.  

Guess today was going to be a hair down kind of day.  

It wasn't the look she normally felt comfortable with on military bases with all the formality of rank and protocol, but she was a civilian contractor, it was unlikely anyone would notice. Hair down was better than the talk that might follow her around if anyone saw the mark on her neck.  

Sighing, Ellie pulled the pins out of the bun she’d spent her morning perfecting and allowed her hair, dark, still damp and wavy from the shower, to fall around her shoulders. Carefully, she pulled the tresses forward, over the rouged mark on her skin, peeking just out from under the collar of her white blouse.  

It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do in a pinch. She made a quick mental note to head off base on break to stop at a CVS to grab some concealer before she twisted the rearview mirror back into place.  

Tony Cudmore, the Crew Staffing Supervisor she had been coordinating with solely through email before now, was already waiting for her just outside the gates, his eyes on his wristwatch as Ellie approached. “Rigby, glad to have you on board. Heard we snagged you from your work on base in Turkey.”  

“Yeah, well. When Uncle Sam comes knocking, right?” Ellie snagged a tress of her hair as it lifted from her shoulder in the wind, carefully patting it back into place.  

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled, his white, push broom straight moustache blustering as he waved at the officer stationed in the booth by the gate before he scanned his security pass. “How’s your old man?”  

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.” 

Ellie had perfected the art of sidestepping questions about her dad and Tony didn’t push further, seemingly content with the non-answer. 

As they reached the security clearance office, Tony slid a few documents under the glass and Ellie stepped up in front of a camera, the flash going off quickly before she had a chance to adjust.  

Whoever thought DMV photos were bad had clearly never had their photo taken by a Naval Officer a few months away from retirement.  

“Given name?” The man behind the glass murmured, so low that Ellie had to strain and lean toward the hole at the bottom of the glass to hear him.  

“Eleanor.” 

“We have a lot of work here that could really benefit from your expertise. The boys are flying Super Hornets nowadays, so the tech is good, but the improvements from your research could really give ‛em the edge.” Tony continued at her side, distractedly flipping through emails on his phone as he waited, “Now of course, those Super Hornets are far and away from the Tomcats your dad would have been flying in his heyday here, let me tell you….”  

“Surname?”  

“Neven - but you can just put Rigby.” It was Ellie’s turn to murmur now, edging closer to the slot in the glass, her voice just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s absent chatter behind her.  

The Security Officer paused, fanning out Ellie’s passport and glancing up at her for a moment, eyebrow raised before he punched something into the computer. She offered him a tight smile a beat too late.  

When the man slid her the newly printed security pass, Ellie’s eyes scanned for any sign of the hickey and was thankful that, though her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were half-closed in mid-blink, at least the hickey wasn’t memorialized in her security pass.  

As they stepped out of the security office, Tony untucked a manila folio from under his arm and passed it to Ellie as they walked. “I’ll take you around. Give you your bearings. You’ll be working with the tower crew lots. Some good people up there.”  

They were out of the outbuilding now, Ellie’s heels clicking across the tarmac, past the line of F18s lined up on the hardtop and gleaming in the early morning California sun.  

“The ground crew might ask for some help with the planes, so you’ll be in the hangars. I’ll take you for a quick flyby,” Tony chuckled to himself, pleased with the pun, “we’ll pick up the tour after since the meeting with Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark is at 0900 sharp and those suits don’t mess around.”   

Tony’s strides were long, and it took Ellie a moment to jog after him, catching up just in time for him to open the door for her.    

“If you’re not five minutes early—” Ellie started, half playing into the old Navy saying she had grown up hearing as she slipped into the hangar.  

The nostalgic scent of jet fuel and oil hit Ellie hard in the closed space — it didn’t seem to matter how long she did this, how long she worked around planes and crews, in different countries, different airfields, this part never changed. Part of that was comforting in an odd way. It felt like home to her. 

Tony snapped his fingers in response, the sound of agreement. Tony opened his mouth to speak when a loud peel of laughter echoed in the closed space. Tony glanced at his watch, confused for a moment before his face turned toward Ellie, excited. “Oh, well, will you look at that, lucky you, we’ve got some of our Flyboys here. Must have some free time before drills.”    

Ellie followed a few steps behind Tony as he rounded the front of a line of Super Hornets, a spring in his step. As they approached, she took in the group of aviators in their flight suits from a distance, casually talking and laughing — and then her stomach twisted, her gait faltering for a moment. 

There, leaning against one of the jets, was the last person she expected to see again, let alone here: Hangman.

He looked almost exactly as he had last night, though somehow the daylight amplified everything about him— his height, the confident set of his shoulders. He turned, mid-laugh and Ellie watched as his eyes caught on her, like he recognized her for a fraction of a second before the look was gone just as quickly. 

Hangman’s easy smile shifted when he saw her, an eyebrow shooting up, surprise flashing across his face before his expression settled into something like amusement.

The last time she’d seen that look, she’d been over top of him, hovering, before he pulled her down over his mouth greedily, his tongue painting pictures over her most sensitive nerve endings as she moaned. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of her fingernails as she gripped the headboard, biting into her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast roughly.  

Yet here he was now, in the light of day, truly in his element, looking like he belonged here as much as the jets around him. 

Ellie felt her heart kick up a notch, a reaction she’d hoped she’d managed to stow away. She forced herself to play it cool, lifting her chin slightly as they neared the group. She didn’t have a choice – there was no running from this. The consequences of her own actions coming back around to haunt her. 

“Hangman, Payback, Harvard,” Tony greeted, nodding to him and the other pilots. “Good to see you guys. Just giving our new radar tech a tour.” 

Ellie felt her pulse quicken as his gaze slid back to her. He wasn’t going to say anything, right? They were strangers here, well, coworkers now. She wasn’t Amelia Earhart, and he wasn’t the pilot from the party, except, he very clearly was and Ellie had miscalculated, mis-stepped. A TOPGUN pilot no less. 

As she held his gaze, she could see the recognition flickering behind his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, but his mask didn’t slip, not for a second. 

“This is—”  

“Rigby. Eleanor.” Ellie interrupted Tony sharply. The introduction as herself, not as Amelia, would be on her own terms. At least she could control that. Here, at Miramar, she was Eleanor Rigby. 

“Welcome to the team, Rigby,” he said smoothly, holding out a hand as if they hadn’t already met in the most intimate of ways. The way he said her name sounded off, like he was testing it out in the context of their previous… encounter. 

Ellie held her breath, pausing only a moment before she forced herself to shake his hand. “Thanks,” she replied coolly, her voice even, though she was silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She refused to let him get the upper hand. Not here, not in front of people she had to work with.  

His grip was firm, his eyes amused. Ellie caught the brief flicker of his gaze to her neck, his eyes resting where Ellie knew she’d tried to hide the hickey, admiring his work, likely.    

Tony chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “Lieutenant Seresin’s one of the best we’ve got. You’ll probably end up working on his bird now and then.”  

Ellie forced a smile, though she could feel the bottom of her stomach drop out and she cleared her throat in an attempt to press down the nervous, incredulous laugh that threatened to escape her. Technically, she’d worked on it last night, right?   

“Looking forward to it,” she said instead, even though the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him right now.  

He released her hand, stepping back into the group of pilots. “Catch you around, Rigby” he said casually, before turning back to his crew, who began to stalk off, out of the large open hangar doors, not looking back.  

“Anyway, you’ll be working here between—” Tony continued, oblivious. 

Ellie let out a breath as Tony waved at her to follow him, continuing the tour. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on Tony’s voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Hangman’s eyes on her or the memory of last night still lingering between them. This complicated things. This really complicated things. 

At least he’d set a standard: he didn’t know her and Ellie was only happy to play along with that pretense. She didn’t know him either. At least, that’s the story she was sticking to. 

The fluorescent lights in the conference room felt harsher than usual, and Ellie shifted uncomfortably as Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Ingrid Stark watched her closely, their expressions unreadable.  

Standing before two of the Navy’s highest-ranking officers, Ellie tried to steady her breath, tried to ignore the slow trickle of panic coursing through her. The same panic that churned the small bit of breakfast she’d managed to eat while maneuvering in and out of San Diego traffic all the way to North Island.  

All she had to do was focus, recenter her mind on the presentation. The presentation that culminated the last three years of her career, it was important, she knew – it had been the sole focus of her work in Turkey and yet, here she was, hiding that stupid hickey and thinking about the man who made it. Thinking about how he looked at her in the hangar not but twenty minutes ago, a glance exchanged that held a shared secret between them as he took her hand and treated her like a stranger. Cool, calm, collected, all charm.  

It was the same easy charisma she’d leaned into just last night, at the Halloween party, blissfully unaware of who he really was. Except now she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole damn time and she’d just called his bluff wrong. And now, now with all those thoughts running through her mind at Mach 2, she was standing here, in front of the highest-ranking personnel on base, expected to deliver a groundbreaking presentation on her research, trying to ignore the lingering flush of that unexpected run-in this morning.  

Ellie cleared her throat, tightening her grip on her tablet as she began walking the Admirals through her research. Running through her practiced script, she carefully outlined her new detection algorithm—a project that had garnered their attention in the first place, the same work that had pulled her back here, to Miramar.   

Truthfully, if they’d asked any probing questions, Ellie would have to confess that the technology was in its earliest stages but had the potential to counteract enemy jamming of GPS signals. In theory (because that was the key word theory), the algorithm she’d developed, on paper, had the potential to become an un-jammable navigation system.  

Ellie clicked through to the next slide, “The reason this algorithm has the potential to give our pilots the advantage is because the enemy would have -”  

You have to say please, sweetheart. 

The memory from last night, his words a steady command, sent a pulse through her, from her chest, down into her core, where it settled, hot and pulsing. 

Ellie’s voice caught in her throat, and she coughed, before holding up her index finger and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table. Quietly she sipped the water, her eyes landing outside the window at the tarmac as ground crew guided an F18 out of the hangar. She waited for a beat, measuring her sips as she calmed down. 

Get your shit together, Rigby. She coached herself, draining the last of the water as she caught Admiral Simpson checking his watch from the corner of her eye. You are not going to screw this up because you had sex last night.    

Incredible sex.     

The best sex you've had in the last two years... possibly in your entire life.    

Top tier sex... with your new co-worker. Who just so happens to fall into the off-limits category. 

If she could have shaken her head without it seeming strange, she would have, but she suspected she was getting into foot tapping territory. With Admirals, time was money. 

“I’m sorry, as I was saying—” Ellie straightened her blazer, setting the glass down and resuming her presentation, determined.      

When she finished, Admiral Simpson leaned back, giving her a thoughtful once-over as he drummed his fingers on the folder containing her research on the table in front of him. “Well, Ms. Neven,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The best of the best. That’s what they told me about you. I suppose that must run in the family.”  

The weight of the comment hit her immediately, and her mind reeled again. This time for an entirely different reason. She hadn’t anticipated Rick’s reputation coming up so soon—or at all.  

She managed a quick nod, hoping it looked confident. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady.  

Simpson’s smile deepened. “When we saw you were one of the top minds in the field, it was a no-brainer to bring you in for this project. Your research is intriguing.” His gaze softened slightly, just enough to give her a glimpse of the man behind the rank and she wondered if, for half a second, it had anything to do with the fact that he had a daughter her age. “You’re going to do great things here. Your dad’ll be proud, no doubt.”  

Ellie nodded again, murmuring her thanks, feeling an odd pressure bubbling under the surface. Truthfully, she had expected some bluster about her family, some comments about her father and his Radar Intercept Officer being wingmen for the late Fleet Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. She hadn’t expected it this soon. 

“Admiral Stark and I will take a look over your documentation and see how best to get the testing started. I trust you’ll let us know if you need anything in the meantime?” Admiral Simpson stood then, and an Officer stationed outside the boardroom opened the door from the outside.  

The meeting adjourned, and as everyone began to filter out, Ellie felt herself unraveling by the second, anxiety pushing its way to the forefront. She wanted to scream or laugh, possibly both. Instead, she was rooted in place, unable to decide whether to escape to the nearest empty room or brace herself against the wall and breathe. If she didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day, what were the chances she’d run into him again? Probably slim. 

This was her first day here. The first day and she was thinking about how she’d been laid bare and fucked out of her mind by a man she’d never thought she’d see again, much less work with. All in the middle of one of the most important presentations of her entire life, in front of the people who could make that research into something tangible, a finished product, a cornerstone of new technology in aviation, a reality.   

The lights in the boardroom automatically flicked off and Ellie sighed, gathering up the last of her things before exiting the room. She could hide in the women’s bathroom, right? 

“Ms. Neven.” RADM Stark’s voice approaching from the hallway behind her startled Ellie. As she turned, Ellie watched as Stark appraised her with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Impressive work. It’s good to have some estrogen in the room for once.” Her lips curled into a slight smirk, and Ellie let out the measured breath she’d been holding.  

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m—excited to work here,” Ellie's voice was a little steadier now, a bit of genuine enthusiasm breaking through her nerves as she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. Her work. Her career. Her tech.  

Stark raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, producing a small stick of concealer from a crisp tan pant pocket. She held Ellie’s gaze, a message or a warning behind her cool eyes, Ellie couldn’t be sure, as the ranked Officer handed the makeup to Ellie. “I think we might be the same shade.”   

Ellie’s heart stuttered as the realization hit her, broad-sided. Her hand shot to her neck before she could think, the heat in her cheeks flaring brighter than before as she accepted the concealer, mumbling a mortified thank-you.  

Stark gave her a knowing smile, a curt little nod as she tapped the side of her nose, before walking away, her stride as calm and confident as when she’d approached.    

Ellie waited until the RADM was clear from sight before making a beeline for the bathroom, practically stumbling into the mirror over the sink. She tilted her head to confirm what she already knew was there: a very visible, very damning mark on her neck. The scarlet letter.   

Great.    

She didn’t waste a second applying RADM Stark’s concealer, muttering under her breath as she blended it carefully with the tips of her fingers, dabbing. “One day at Miramar, Ellie. One day.”    

As she swiped on the secondary layer of concealer for good measure, she felt the rush of everything hit her again. The tension of the presentation, the equal parts pride and pressure from the Admiral’s praise, and him—Lieutenant Seresin, Hangman, with his easy, cocky grin and the piercing eyes that, despite everything, she could still feel on her.  

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[writing-until-i-drop]

The Devil Doc & The Flyboy | Sneak Peek

Hangman x Marine Corpsman-Devil Doc!OC

Every time Fiona "Kitten" Reid is deployed, something bad happens. Win-a-medal type bad. And when Warlock is looking for a survivalist instructor for the Daggers during the uranium mission, he's shocked that the top recommendation from his colleagues is a young medical corpsman the Marines she served with dubbed "Kitten." After making a grand entrance at the expense of Jake's older brother and Bob's sanity, Fiona finds herself squarely in Hangman's sights. But he better pay attention in class because her lessons come from more than a textbook...

“Corpsman Reid, at ease.” The Rear Admiral better known as Warlock motioned for her to take a seat. It was the first time that morning she was happy to be in uniform, she would have felt naked in scrubs. 

“Sir,” She dug her short nails into her palm under the table, keeping her composure even as her pulse skyrocketed. You’re a marine, she chided herself, get a damn grip. She felt like the kid she had been before her first deployment with a marine detachment. A timid, little midwestern girl who didn’t drink or curse. The rough necks had had a fun time breaking her in. 

They jokingly called her Kitten. As in a scared little kitten afraid of her own shadow. Then the worst had happened and they’d discovered that the kitten had claws. That’s when she became one of them, a marine. She felt the ghostly weight of two hands on her shoulders and sat a little straighter, meeting the Vice Admiral’s gaze head-on.

“I read your file, corpsman but your ribbon rack tells one hell of a story on its own.”

“Oorah, sir.”

“Two Purple Hearts, three bronze stars with combat valor, if you weren’t a corpsman you’d be well on your way to admiralty and a senate seat.” She must not have done a good job at disguising her disgust at being part of the brass, Warlock’s laughter filling the room.

“I asked for a shortlist of men for a special assignment and imagine my surprise when the first recommendation from a general was someone named Kitten.” Aw fuck. 

Fiona’s smile couldn’t be helped. General Matteo Alverez. He had visited her detachment in Iraq for a dog and pony show and when things went south, as they always seemed to do when she was involved, he’d seen Fiona in action, running towards danger with a stethoscope around her neck.

“Am I going brown side out again, sir?” She could already feel the sand in her boots from another desert deployment. “Give the word.” She wanted him to give it to her straight. As much as she wanted to stay, she would always go if the Navy asked her to.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the scuttlebutt about a classified flight mission,” Warlock raised a white brow, knowing nothing classified stayed fully secret in a town like North Island. She nodded. “Enemy territory is a rough place to be,” Rough was putting it lightly in her experience and opinion. “I want you to prepare them, teach them how to survive. No manual, no guidelines, your experience will be their gospel.”’ That was…insane. She wasn’t an instructor. She would run towards live fire, snap a man’s neck, and put her phone on the bar when Penny wasn’t looking. She was used to doing dangerous and ill-advised things. But teach?

“Sir, I-”

“Before you respond, the General said to remind you that a true marine never runs from a fight.” Fiona sighed,

“Aye aye, sir. Just don’t give me a big chicken dinner when I kill your flyboys’ egos.” Warlock laughed, spilling coffee on his pristine uniform.

“If you can do that, I’ll give you another damn medal for doing the impossible.” 

Big chicken dinner = Bad conduct discharge

Scuttlebutt = gossip

Can't wait for more? Let me know, I'll add you to the taglist.

Fiona and Jake's story is going to have mentions of combat, war, torture (nothing too graphic), too many Navy/Marine inaccuracies to count (I'm doing a lot of research though), plenty of good times at the Hard Deck, Warlock being an enabler, and Jake being the next in a long line of Top Gun students to be hot for teacher.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 3

OTHER CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby prepares for a cozy evening at Glen’s home. Despite a delayed start, the chemistry between them sparks as they dive into an evening of home-cooked meals and laughter. As they bond over shared stories and Glen's impressive cooking skills, the connection deepens, culminating in a sweet dance in the kitchen that leads to their first kiss. Later while wrapped in a blanket on the couch they watch a movie, blissfully unaware of the outside world.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tags: @djs8891

Gabby was bustling around her apartment, making the final touches to her outfit. She had picked out a soft, white tank top and denim shorts, perfect for a cozy evening at Glen's place. Just as she finished applying her favorite lip gloss, her phone lit up on the countertop, breaking the calm of the moment.

With a quick glance, she saw Glen's name flashing across the screen. Excitement bubbled up inside her as she swiped to answer, “Hey, Glen!”

“Hey, Gabby,” he replied, his voice slightly tinged with regret. “My last meeting ran longer than I thought it would and now I’m running late. I won’t be home as soon as I thought I would. Is there any chance we could push our plans back by an hour or two?”

A small frown flickered across Gabby’s face, but she quickly masked it with understanding. “Of course! I can be there around eight instead. Just let me know when you’re home.”

“Thanks for being flexible,” Glen said, relief evident in his tone. “I really appreciate it. I’ll see you soon!”

As she hung up, Gabby couldn’t help but notice how Glen’s career sometimes intervened in their plans. She thought back to their coffee date, where he’d had to cut their time short due to a meeting. And now tonight with his meeting running late. It was a reminder that his lifestyle came with its own set of challenges, but she admired his dedication to his work. She wasn’t going to let something like an hour or two ruin her excitement. He still wanted to spend time with her, and that was what mattered.

Plus, she appreciated the way he had communicated openly with her both times about what was going on, which made her feel valued.

With a determined smile, Gabby decided to make the most of the extra time. She tidied up her apartment, made sure Willow’s food and water were topped up, and even threw in a few minutes of reviewing her notes for the classes she was taking. 

Flexibility had always been a part of her nature, and she found that it was a necessary trait in the ever-shifting world of Hollywood, especially if she wanted to keep things easy and light with Glen.

As the clock ticked closer to eight, Gabby took one last glance in the mirror, adjusting her hair before heading out the door, ready to embrace whatever the evening had in store.

Arriving at his place, she parked and took a deep breath, readying herself for the evening. She walked up to his door, her anticipation building with each step. When she knocked, she felt a giddy thrill shoot through her, and before she could second-guess herself, the door swung open.

“Hey!” Glen greeted her with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. He pulled her into a gentle hug that felt reassuring and familiar. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Of course! I brought your shirt,” she said, holding it up as she stepped inside. 

The cozy warmth of his home enveloped her, filled with the subtle scent of something delicious simmering in the background.

“Thanks.” He took the shirt from her, and as he turned to take it to his room, Gabby’s attention was drawn to a fluffy ball of fur bounding excitedly toward her.

“This is Brisket!” Glen said, smiling over his shoulder. The dog—a scruffy mix—skidded to a halt in front of Gabby, tail wagging furiously as he sniffed at her feet.

“Hey there, buddy!” Gabby knelt down, extending her hand for Brisket to sniff. He immediately leaned into her touch, nuzzling against her fingers. She laughed, her heart warming as Brisket licked her palm enthusiastically.

Glen watched with a soft smile, the sight of his dog instantly taking a liking to Gabby bringing him joy. 

“Looks like Brisket approves of you,” he teased, bending down to scratch behind Brisket’s ears.

“He’s adorable!” Gabby replied, giving Brisket a good scratch along his back.

Gabby followed Glen into the kitchen, and the moment she stepped inside, she was hit with a delightful aroma that made her stomach rumble. The rich scent of tomatoes and spices danced in the air, making her instantly hungry. Her gaze fell on a pot bubbling on the stove, steam swirling upwards as it simmered. Curiosity piqued, she leaned closer to the counter, where she noticed a mound of dough waiting to be transformed.

“What are you making?” she asked, her eyes bright with interest.

“Pasta,” Glen replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’m working on a homemade red sauce to go with it.” He moved back to the counter, rolling the dough between his fingers.

“Wait, you’re really making pasta from scratch?” Gabby asked, incredulous. She had not been expecting homemade pasta tonight.

“Absolutely! It’s one of my favorite things to do,” he said, nodding with enthusiasm. “Have you ever tried making it yourself?”

She shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. “No, I haven’t. I usually just boil the store-bought stuff.”

“Come here; I’ll show you how it’s done.” He motioned for her to join him, and Gabby stepped closer, excitement bubbling inside her.

As they stood side by side, he demonstrated how to knead the dough properly, his hands deftly working it until it was smooth. Gabby watched closely, trying to follow his lead. The close proximity was both comforting and thrilling, the warmth radiating from him as they shared the task.

“Now, grab the rolling pin,” Glen instructed, positioning himself behind her. His arms brushed against hers as he guided her hands, showing her how to apply just the right amount of pressure to flatten the dough. Gabby’s heart raced, but she couldn’t help grinning at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Like this?” she asked, catching onto his rhythm.

“Exactly,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re a natural.”

With his hands guiding hers, they worked together to get the pasta thinner, before using an attachment for his KitchenAid mixer to create perfectly shaped noodles. The kitchen filled with laughter and playful banter as Glen teased her about her novice skills while she marveled at his culinary finesse.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed,” she said, glancing up at him. “I didn’t expect you to be this good at cooking.”

He chuckled, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his expression. “I had to learn sometime. Living on takeout got old pretty fast.”

As they continued to shape the pasta, Gabby felt a genuine connection forming between them, solidified by laughter and the delightful shared experience of cooking. 

Once the pasta was boiling away, Glen stirred the sauce with a wooden spoon, the vibrant red color reflecting the warm glow of the kitchen lights. He glanced over at Gabby, who was still admiring the perfect strands of pasta they had created together.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Wine? Something else?” he asked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“I’d love some wine,” she replied, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over her.

“Red or white?” he asked, his fingers already reaching for a bottle perched on the counter.

“Red,” she said, smiling as he grabbed a corkscrew and popped the bottle open with a satisfying thunk.

He poured some of the wine into two glasses, the rich liquid swirling as he filled them. “This is a favorite of mine,” he said, handing her one of the glasses. “Hope you like it.”

“Let’s find out,” Gabby replied with a playful smile as their glasses clinked together in a cheerful toast. “To good food and new friends!”

“Cheers!” Glen echoed, taking a sip. The deep flavors of the wine danced on her palate, and she savored it, glancing over at Glen, who looked pleased.

“This is nice,” she said, feeling the warmth of the wine and the moment enveloping her.

“Yeah, it is. I’m glad you’re here,” he replied, leaning against the counter with a relaxed smile.

As the pasta finished cooking, Glen drained it before moving to plate their dinner. He carefully twisted the strands of noodles onto two plates, the steam rising as he topped each one with the rich, homemade red sauce.

“How do you like your sauce?” he asked, glancing up at her with a playful grin.

Gabby thought for a moment, then replied, “Light sauce, definitely. I don’t want to drown the pasta.”

“Agreed,” he said, nodding as he drizzled just the right amount over her noodles.

Next, he reached for a block of parmesan cheese. “How about some cheese?” he asked, holding it up.

“Yes, please!” she replied enthusiastically.

“Okay, just tell me when,” he said, starting to grate cheese onto her plate. Gabby watched as the snowy flakes tumbled onto her pasta, and she finally said, “Okay, that’s good!”

As he set the grater down, she noticed something odd. “Hey, wait. You didn’t put any cheese on your plate,” she said, tilting her head.

Glen shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I don’t eat cheese.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Wait, like at all?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his tone light. “I was never a big fan of dairy as a kid. Just never liked the texture of most cheeses. Unless it’s a small amount mixed into something, I usually avoid it.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that!” she said, shaking her head in disbelief, but a smile lingered on her lips. “You must miss out on a lot of pizza toppings.”

He chuckled, “I still eat pizza as long as it’s not straight cheese. I’m not that crazy.”

With dinner plated, they moved to the dining table, and as they sat down, the savory aroma of the meal enveloped them. Gabby took her first bite and her eyes lit up. “Oh wow, this is amazing! You really nailed the flavor,” she exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

Glen beamed at her praise. “Thanks! I’m glad you like it,” he said, taking a bite of his own.

She leaned back in her chair, laughing lightly. “Honestly, my pasta alla vodka with store-bought pasta can’t compete with this.”

“I’d still love to try it sometime,” he said with a wink, enjoying the banter. The conversation flowed easily as they savored their meal, laughter mingling with the clinking of forks against plates, making the evening feel warm and inviting.

After they finished eating, Gabby stood up, gathering hers and Glen’s plates. “I’ll take these into the kitchen,” she said, heading toward the sink.

Glen quickly rose to his feet, a hint of protest in his voice. “You really don’t have to do that. You’re my guest, remember?”

Gabby smiled at him over her shoulder as she placed her plate in the sink. “But the least I can do is help clean up. It’s only fair.”

He watched her for a moment, appreciating her willingness to pitch in. With a resigned sigh, he followed her into the kitchen. “Okay, okay. If you insist,” he said, moving to help her with the clean up.

As they began to wash the dishes, the warm, cozy atmosphere lingered in the air. Glen rinsed his plate while Gabby filled the dishwasher, handing him the dishes as they went along. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so willing to do dishes after a meal,” he said, chuckling.

Gabby shot him a playful look. “Well, I guess I’m just an overachiever,” she replied, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “Besides, I can’t just leave you with all the mess!”

They continued to work side by side, the lighthearted banter flowing easily between them. Glen started wiping down the counters, stealing glances at her as she focused on loading the dishwasher. The way she effortlessly moved around his kitchen made him appreciate her presence even more.

“So, do you always cook for your guests?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Or am I just special?”

“Let’s just say I usually don’t do this much,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’d definitely do it again for you.”

Gabby smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks as they finished loading the last of the dishes. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said lightly, feeling the chemistry between them grow as they shared a comfortable moment of laughter and connection.

As they finished tidying up the kitchen, a comfortable silence settled around them, broken only by the faint hum of the dishwasher. Glen glanced over at Gabby, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for a small remote sitting on the counter and pressed a button. Soft music filtered through the speakers, filling the room with a gentle melody that gave the kitchen a warm, intimate atmosphere.

Gabby’s eyebrows lifted, and she gave him a curious look. "What are you up to?" she asked with a laugh.

Glen set the remote down and turned to Gabby, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached out to take her hand. “Come here,” he said, gently trying to pull her toward him.

She looked at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, feeling a flutter of nerves. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she admitted, shifting her weight. “I’m not exactly… a dancer.”

Glen's smile only grew, his gaze soft and encouraging. "Trust me," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "I’ll lead."

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, letting him gently pull her toward him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand resting lightly on her back, and began to guide her in a slow, easy rhythm that matched the song. At first, she focused on not stepping on his feet, feeling a little self-conscious. But his gentle hold and the way he was watching her — with a quiet warmth and a hint of mischief — made her gradually relax.

“See? You’re doing great,” he murmured, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She smiled, meeting his gaze. "I guess you’re not a terrible teacher.”

They swayed together, her movements becoming more natural as she grew comfortable in his embrace. When he felt her easing into the rhythm, he lifted their joined hands and spun her slowly. She laughed in surprise, her eyes sparkling as she let herself get caught up in the moment. When she came back around, he pulled her in closer, his arm steadying her as they continued to move together in time to the music.

With a small grin, he added a little dip at the end, and she let out a delighted, breathless laugh. As he lifted her back up, their eyes met, and the energy between them shifted, becoming something softer and deeper.

He still held her close, their faces only inches apart. His gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Gabby’s smile softened, her heart racing. She let her hand slide up to his shoulder, then, closing the gap, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, feeling the warmth and tenderness in his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, drawing her even closer, and time seemed to slow as they shared that first kiss, deep and lingering, each moment stretching as they savored it.

It felt electric—his lips were soft, yet firm, and she melted against him as he cradled her face with one hand, the other still resting on her waist. The taste of the red wine lingered between them, enhancing the sweetness of the moment.

Her heart soared as she leaned into him, feeling the strength of his body and the warmth of his embrace. Glen’s fingers tangled in her hair, his touch gentle yet possessive, pulling her closer.

Gabby’s mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts—this was happening, it felt so right, and she couldn’t help but smile against his lips. She had always dreamed of moments like this, and here she was, lost in the magic of their connection.

As Glen pulled away, their breaths mingled in the small space between them, the moment hanging heavy with unspoken feelings. Gabby’s heart raced, her cheeks flushed as they locked eyes, a smile spreading across her lips that mirrored Glen’s. Glen rested his forehead against hers for a beat, his hand trailing down her arm as he took her in.

“Wow,” he murmured, still in awe of what had just transpired. Just as she was about to respond, he leaned in again, catching her off guard with a second kiss, this one deeper. It sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach, igniting a spark that made her crave more.

When they finally broke apart, Gabby’s expression shifted to one of playful curiosity. “So, what do you want to do next?” she asked, a grin playing on her lips.

“How about just watching a movie?” he suggested, her eyes brightening at the idea.

“Sounds perfect,” she replied, her enthusiasm infectious. He took her hand and led her to the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a cozy light over the space.

Glen settled onto the couch, leaning back and resting his arm along the top cushion, leaving a gentle invitation open for her to move closer. Gabby sat beside him, a small, polite space between them, feeling a bit of nervous energy settle in her stomach. They both seemed to look anywhere but at each other for a moment, until Glen broke the silence, glancing at her with a grin.

“So, any movie requests?” he asked, his eyes warm as they held hers.

She hesitated before smiling, feeling a bit bold. "Maybe… a rom-com?" She could feel her cheeks warm as she said it, half-expecting him to cringe at the suggestion.

Instead, he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Actually, I have a soft spot for a good rom-com,” he admitted, his voice easy and light.

Her face brightened in surprise. "Really?”

He shrugged with a playful grin. “Hey, some of them are classics. Besides, I can’t resist a good happy ending.”

They scrolled through the options, landing on one of the timeless ones. As the familiar opening scene started to play, Gabby felt herself relax, leaning just a bit closer. She glanced sideways, stealing a quick look at Glen, who caught her gaze and smiled. Gently, he moved his arm from the back of the couch to her shoulders, pulling her in a little closer with a soft, unspoken invitation.

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his tone gentle as his arm settled around her.

She nodded, settling comfortably into his side, a feeling of ease blooming between them. His hand rested on her shoulder, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles that made her feel even warmer, more relaxed.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the comfort of being close to him, Brisket trotted over, eyeing the spot where she sat with mild curiosity before making a decision. Without hesitation, Brisket leapt onto her lap and nestled in, his head resting against her arm.

Gabby laughed, instinctively reaching to pet him. “Looks like I’ve been chosen,” she said with a smile, looking up at Glen.

He chuckled, shaking his head in mock betrayal. “He usually doesn’t pick other people. I guess you’re the exception.”

Glen reached out to ruffle Brisket’s ears, but Brisket stayed contently in Gabby’s lap, settling in with a sigh. Glen’s hand lingered on her shoulder as the movie began, and they both relaxed further into the moment.

Gabby felt a sense of warmth enveloping her—not just from the blanket they shared or Brisket’s presence on her lap, but from the connection she was building with Glen. She glanced up at him, her heart swelling with a mixture of excitement and affection. This was just the beginning, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

As the movie played softly in the background, Gabby and Glen both gradually succumbed to the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. The rhythmic sound of Brisket’s soft snores filled the room, providing a soothing backdrop that made it easy to drift off. Gabby nestled deeper into Glen’s side, the blanket cocooning them in a cozy embrace, and before long, her eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to sleep.

Just as the movie credits began to roll, Gabby stirred as the warmth of the blanket and the quiet hum of the living room began to pull her gently from sleep. She became aware of Glen’s arm draped across her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, his warmth radiating through the soft fabric of her sweater. Without even thinking, she instinctively snuggled closer, her head nestling against his shoulder as she allowed herself another moment of comfortable, dreamy contentment. 

Glen, not quite awake himself, responded by pulling her a little closer, his fingers grazing her arm in a gentle, absent-minded touch, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

For a fleeting moment, Gabby thought of how perfectly right it felt to wake up like this—curled up with him, his steady breath against her hair, and the quiet calm surrounding them. She caught herself smiling, not wanting to move, not wanting to break the spell of their closeness. Part of her wished she could freeze this feeling, to let herself fall back into the cozy haze of sleep with him there beside her.

As she finally stirred enough to lift her head, Glen's eyes blinked open, still soft with sleep. He looked at her and gave a slow, drowsy smile. 

"Hey," he murmured, his voice quiet and warm.

“Hey,” she whispered back, feeling herself smile even wider. 

His hand, still resting on her shoulder, gave a gentle squeeze, as though reassuring her that he felt the same warmth between them.

“You fell asleep on me.”

“I guess I did,” Gabby replied, stifling a yawn and brushing a few stray hairs from her face.

“Feel like staying a little longer?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving hers. She could feel the comfort and sincerity in his gaze, and for a moment, the idea of staying sounded tempting, like something she might even want.

She hesitated, a blush warming her cheeks as she finally managed to murmur, “I... I should probably get going.” It was too soon, she thought, for the kind of tenderness that staying might mean. But as much as she knew it, part of her still didn’t want to move from his side.

Glen nodded with an understanding smile, though she noticed a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "I’ll walk you out," he said, his voice gentle. 

He gave her one last little squeeze, his hand lingering on her arm for just a beat longer. Then he helped her stand, his touch never far as they both blinked away the remnants of sleep.

Together, they made their way to the front door, Gabby’s heart warming at the simple gesture. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, she glanced back at Glen, his eyes shining under the soft porch light.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, feeling a rush of gratitude. “I had a really great time.”

“Me too,” he replied, taking a step closer. “I’m glad we got to spend it together.”

The moment hung between them, charged with an unspoken understanding. Glen reached out, pulling her into a warm hug, holding her close for a moment longer than necessary. As they broke apart, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, the sweetness of the moment lingering in the air.

“Goodnight, Gabby,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

“Goodnight, Glen,” she replied, a smile blooming on her face as she stepped back toward her car.

As she slid into the driver’s seat, she took one last look at him, and he gave her a small wave, his expression a mix of happiness and hope. Gabby couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement as she drove away, the night still fresh in her mind.

[whatislovevavy]

Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure

Jake Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Hangman and Cherry have never been able to be in the same room as the other without nearly ripping each other's throats out. Hangman provides a solution that provides her a sense of freedom and pleasure that she begins to crave.

Warnings: Smut, P in V, degradation, hot pilots being delusional and horny

Word Count: 3.4k

Soph's Collection of Literature

A note: This is a nice little piece I made for @roosterforme's TopGun 80's Rocktober Challenge using Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World. The lovely divider was made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more. I hope you enjoy <3

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

“God, you’re such a dick,” 

You almost missed the way his lips curved into a smirk into the sensitive flesh of the column of your neck. Hands gripping into his shoulders as he sucked at your pulse, pushing your hips into the cold metal lockers behind you with a resonating bang, his broad hands digging into your Nomex clad waist enough to leave marks.  

Time was not in your favor, and you could sense that the team had their suspicions about what Hangman and Cherry were doing while they weren’t trying to rip the other to shreds on the tarmac.  

“I always did like you more when you were too busy takin' my cock to say your little bratty comments,” he growled into your throat. 

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way his gravelly tone and filthy words made you want to clench your thighs around his lean waist.

A huff left your lips. 

He was absolutely vexing. 

His hands gripped harder into your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your ass, making you let out what could be best described as a repressed sigh. 

And shameless and cocksure. 

He harshly sucked at the flesh of your neck, sure to leave angry, deep purple marks in his wake, the act making you hiss.

A significant part of you had stopped caring to cover up the traces of your rendezvous; new ones would be there the following day or later in the week anyway.

And was absolutely filled to the brim with brazen confidence and a glaring disregard for others. 

You had to bite into the soft, plump flesh of your lip to silence yourself as his mouth made you want to softly whimper. 

Chewing him out only turned him on, and ignoring him just made him press harder into your nerves. 

You couldn’t win with him. Maybe that was why you let yourself have this arrangement. 

To see if you could win, and claim victory over the infamous Hangman that had women for miles lined up for a chance to warm his bed. 

Because just like him, you craved victory. 

His fingers frantically reached for your front zipper, pulling the dark green material down your body, exposing more and more flesh by the second to his ravenous mouth. 

A sigh passed your lips as he fondled your breast, bringing your tank top down to expose your pebbled nipple to the cooler air of the locker room with a gasp, taking the sensitive flesh into his warm mouth with a deep growl. 

You hated that he had this effect on you. 

Not in a way that itched your skin, but in a way that made your insides swirl and buzz with…

A low whine pulled its way past your lips as he let the rough pads of his fingers run through your folds. 

“Mhm, so wet, Cherry. This all f’me?”

His chest inflated with pride at the glare you shot him. 

He watched with salacious eyes as he removed his fingers, “Come on, sweets, we both know ya don’t get this wet for just anyone.”

You watched as he let his tongue glide over his bottom lip, his gaze heavy on your flushed cheeks and glazed over eyes. 

Agitation overcame you at the sight of him as he closed his eyes, humming at the taste of you on his fingers, trying to ignore how much you ne-wanted his touch again. 

And trying to remember how much you hated it when he called you that little endearment with that irritating southern drawl of his. 

Maybe this whole arrangement was to gain some freedom from this chase you both did with each other, to put your hatred for him to better use. 

To have an outlet. Yeah that was it. An outlet. A reprieve from your hatred induced frustrations. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His dry laugh made your insides burn and your nails dig into his shoulders just that much harder. 

He nipped at your jaw as your nails dug harshly into the back of his neck.

The act made him growl into the column of your throat, the vibrations making you almost shiver. 

“I already do, sweets. You wouldn’t keep coming back if it weren't the case.”

You scoffed. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

His lip quirked. 

“And so god-damn frustrating.”

He hummed, his ego growing like his cock in the thin confines of his flight suit with each breathless word that passed sweet, no-faults-in-sight, perfect straight shooter Cherry’s lips. 

“But I’m not wrong,” he replied, giving your neck a playful nip. 

“I never said you were right, and don’t call me sweets,” you quipped back, trying to keep your voice steady as he sucked at your pulse point. 

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot against your skin, “always so feisty, Cherry,”

Your words died on your lips as his lips lathed at your chest, softly biting into your nipple. A soft sigh left your lips as he soothed your flesh with his frustratingly nimble tongue. 

His touch almost made you miss him as he took a second to pull down his flight suit, his white undershirt clashing with his golden tan skin and clinging to his biceps. The imprint of his dog tags showing through his cotton shirt. Your eyes followed the path of the white fabric as he unveiled the sharp ridges and dips of hard muscle from his defined adonis belt, to his marble carved abs that seemed to go on for days, to his pectorals and thick, broad shoulders. 

"We don't have all day, Bagman," you said, voice lacking the authority you hoped it would still have.  

His muffled dry laugh made your jaw clench and stomach flip. 

Your voice couldn't have sounded that desperate, could it? 

His lip quirked, revealing pearly white teeth.

"Didn't realize you were in a rush, got a hot date later?"

Your eyes narrowed, his teasing smile grating on your nerves. 

"As a matter of fact, I do," you managed to say without your voice sounding too breathless or shaky. 

His eyes narrowed for only a millisecond. 

A flash of something you've never seen before.

In his eyes, at least. 

But as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

"Mhm," he bit the inside of his cheek, leaning down to kiss at your neck, coming up to your tender ear lobe, giving the soft flesh a delicate bite that had a hitched breath leaving your parted lips.

You hated how well versed he was in the subtle language of your body.

He firmly squeezed your hips in his broad hands, his fingers sneaking under the fabric of your bunched up flight suit to your ass.  

You almost shivered at his warm breath settling against your ear. 

"Does he know he's gonna be getting sloppy seconds?"

A scoff passed your lips, "I don't see how that's of any concern to you."

He hissed as your nails dug harder into the back of his neck. 

"We both know you don't date. That's why this works so well, "he said dryly as he kissed at your neck, slowly pulling the Nomex material below your waist, your legs moving at their own accord to step out of the sleeves. 

He had a point. An annoying and frustrating point.

"It's the first date anyway," you replied, choosing to ignore the evident vibrations of the chord he just struck through your chest.

He let his jade, evergreen eyes settle on you. 

Those same eyes that could read you like a book he's read a hundred times over. 

His lip quirked, eyebrows scrunching in amusement.  

"That's really romantic, Cherry, really. Showing up with another man's cum dripping down your thighs as he sweats himself on the first date." 

Your mouth dried up, utterly speechless at the  words he said with that trademark Hangman confidence.  

Your eyes narrowed, eyebrows softly pinching together. 

A smirk grew on his lips that made you want to slap him, or pull his lips towards yours. 

You couldn't decide. 

He kept his heated, lust-bright gaze on yours as he trailed his calloused fingers in between the material of your panties and your soft, supple skin, relishing in the feel of gooseflesh he left in his wake. 

You watched as let his gaze shift downwards, clicking his tongue. 

"Cherry, you shouldn't have... you wore my favorite pair just for me?"

You bit your lip as he continued to toy with the soft, blush pink material of your undergarment. 

That same full-of-himself smirk that you hated curved his lips. 

But do you know what you hated more?

The fact that you couldn't help but feel like some part of you purposely decided to wear the pair, and not because you purely wanted to, but because there was a part of you that wanted to wear them just for him. 

He gently rolled them down your thighs, letting you step out of them. 

He let his hand drift under the back of your thigh to behind your knee, grasping your leg and lifting it to bend at his hip before snatching the pair of pink panties that hung off your ankle. 

Your eyes followed his hand as he bunched the material between his dexterous fingers. 

"Excuse me, I'd like those back," you snipped.

His lip quirked. 

"If you're good, I'll consider it, sweets."

You huffed, glaring at the smirk and subsequent wink he sent you. 

Your glare worsened as he brought the material to his nose, taking a deep inhale, a deep sigh of satisfaction leaving his lips, doing your damnedest to ignore the soft throbbing of your clit at the sight, and to suppress the whine that threatened to bubble up in your throat. 

"Always smell so sweet, Cherry, like a perfect, little cherry pie." He murmured as he placed the debauched material into the pocket of his flight suit.  

"You're disgusting and don't call me sweets," you gritted back, raising your voice with a snarl that Jake knew was all bark and no bite.

At least with him. 

He gave that salacious smile that always made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or knock his perfect teeth out. Or fuck him. Or grab him by his hair and-

Your jaw tensed, nostrils flaring. 

His smile widened, evidently proud of the rouse of emotion he pulled from you. 

You were too much fun to tease. 

"Shhh,” you could have sworn that you saw red the moment the condescending noise left his lips, “someone's gonna hear ya if you keep that up, and ya wouldn't want someone to see just how well I can get along with ya, right Cherry? Make ya make such sweet, absolutely sinful sounds f’me?” 

Heat rose to your cheeks, much to your unending irritation with the visceral response this man managed to pull out of you each time he had you. 

Whether it was the Hard Deck bathroom during the saturday night rush, that one time at the beach long after Bob Floyd’s birthday celebration, or on the other side of Admiral Simpson’s white fence during the Fourth of July BBQ that past summer. 

A chuckle broke free from his chest as you laid a smack to his thick pectoral, eyes still sharp and full of what could be described as a cauldron of hate and lust to anyone else who had the misfortune of interrupting their, what could be described as, animalistic rutting.  

He pulled down his flight suit to settle down to the tiled floor with a small thump, his body only clad in his signature pair of Calvin Klein briefs. 

That was another thing you hated about him; he looked good in anything. 

It pained you to say that he could easily have become a model if the Navy hadn't worked out. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders before softly tracing down his body, over each ridge, each chord, each plane of muscle and bulging vein that made you salivate more than you would care to admit. 

He pulled his briefs down, letting his thick cock that always forced you to take a minute to adjust to sprung up against his adonis belt with a soft tap. 

A soft sigh passed your lips as he gently traced at the embarrassingly soaked folds of your cunt with the pads of his fingers.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin would never admit it, but he was disappointed he didn't have the time to taste you, to savor what he would describe as the intoxicating taste of candied cherries that dribbled down your flushed folds like a sweet nectar. 

Sweet nectar from a poisonous, intolerable, type-A personality fruit. 

He hated that he wanted to quirk his lip at the birthmark just above your soft, sensitive little clit. To hear that sweet sinful sound he, disappointedly, hadn't been able to find in anyone else when he fucked you with his tongue. 

A soft puff of breath passed your lips as he lined up the angry, red bulbous head at your flushed cunt. Grunting as his sensitive head met your drenched folds. 

His entrancing eyes hurriedly met yours. 

You feverishly nodded. 

Jake pushed his length into the delicious inferno of your tight, little pussy. 

Your breath felt like cement in your lungs as he let his full, long, thick length accommodate itself into your welcoming heat. 

He let his head fall to the crook in her shoulder, her nails still gripping into the thick cords of muscle of his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. 

"Jesus, Cherry,” he murmured. 

God, the way his voice graveled out praise was the most unfortunate consequence of this arrangement that still affected you hours after your trysts. 

His cock seemed to push any capability of forming coherent sentences out of your body. 

All that passed your lips were sharp intakes of breath and low mewls that left your throat without your consent. 

He gave an experimental thrust into your heat, letting your soft sighs of pleasure meet his ears as you adjusted to his length.  

Your breath hitched as he brought your other leg around his waist, his biceps bulging with the effort of thrusting into you against the smooth, metal locker doors. 

"More."

"Come on, sweets, you can do better than that." 

He smirked at your breathless tone.

If his cock didn’t feel like the only thing you needed at the moment to live, you would have told him to go fuck himself. 

You laid your head back against the dark gray metal surface, eyes meeting his fiery, lush, emerald gaze, voice frozen in your throat, lips parted. 

He manhandled your legs, forcing them to cross around his waist, gripping your waist in his broad hand in a borderline painful grip. 

His other hand brought up to grip at the sides of your throat. A low moan came from your lips that had him smirking deviously and your cheeks turning red, utterly at the mercy of him and his thick cock that was rubbing deliciously at that spot he always found with maddening accuracy. 

“Please, more,” 

Those two words made you cringe with embarrassment, unable to stop the small whimper that passed your bite swollen lips. 

His salacious chuckle met your ears, making your cheeks burn brighter.

“God, I can never get used to you like this… so needy and desperate. You become such a sweet girl when I get my dick in ya. Haven’t even started yet, and you're already babbling like a cock-drunk little slut.”

All you could do was part your lips and muster enough composure to utter two simple words. 

“F-fuck you,”

His eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise, leaning his head towards your ear. The scent of bergamot and cedar wood filling your senses.

“You already are, sweets,” he growled, sharply thrusting into your sopping wet cunt. 

Your gasp and tightening of your grip into his shoulder and hand that settled at your neck had him throbbing against your velvet walls that oh so begged him to never leave. 

“Fuck, Cherry, I bet you don’t even hate me,” he panted, “not,” thrust, “even,” thrust, “a little,” thrust, “bit.” 

Your cries of pleasure spilled from your lips and into the empty on base locker room, fingernails gripping and scratching into him almost enough to draw blood.  

He gripped your throat just a bit harder, enough to have your eyes rolling back, wanton moans pouring from your lips as he pistoned his hips into your cunt. 

He yanked your neck closer to his. Close enough to see the small specks of hazel in his almost unending green eyes. And the kink in his nose he got when he broke it back at the Naval Academy. And to smell the potent scent of you on his breath. 

“I think you just need someone who can fuck you like this. Treat you like a slut and fuck your tight, little hole. Just like you need.” He gritted out, continuing to pound up into your dripping heat that dribbled your arousal to the tile floor below. 

You couldn’t help the labored pants of breath as you nodded feverishly, your consciousness shutting down and your own body taking over. 

He let out a dark chuckle with a carnal grin, his abdomen feeling tight as his balls slapped against the underside of your ass, his release building. 

“God, you’re fucking adorable for thinking anyone else could fuck you like this,” he snarled.

Your high pitched whines and obscene moans had him gripping you that much tighter and chasing your high. 

“Oh, fuck, please!”

He could feel the sweat building at his forehead and chest as he pistoned his hips into your pretty pink, flushed, little pussy.

He ne-wanted you to come first. His ego demanded it. Demanded that he bend you to his will. 

His spine tingled at the feeling of your walls spasming around his dick at his brutal pace.

You shuddered at the feeling of his mouth near the soft cartilage of your ear, breathing caught in your throat.

“Please what, sweets? Use your words.” he growled. 

“Please, Please… make me cum.” 

A deep chested groan rumbled through his throat at your pathetic whine, “fuck, I’ll make you cum, sweets, I’ll make you cum,” he growled. 

Your body was wracked by tremors as he thrusted, channeling each ounce of strength in his body into pummeling your flushed cunt. 

He watched as your eyes clenched shut, eyebrows pinching together as your feather soft lips parted into a strangled moan that was much louder than the previous ones.

In a split second, he crashed his lips to yours, swallowing each sound of pleasure that escaped your body as he finally felt your walls choke his cock for all he was worth. Your breath mixed with his as your chest heaved, his hips still pistoning into your no doubt raw cunt. 

Oversensitivity wracked your body, making you cry out as his chest heaved and lips swallowed each cry and moan. Stars and galaxies flashed before your eyes as he kept his grip on your throat, chasing his high as your second one consumed you.  

You could feel with each thrust, how his cock throbbed against your slick, sensitive walls.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he grunted out, a gut punch groan resonating against the locker walls that encased you both. 

Your clit tingled at the feeling of his release painting your walls, squirming with each soft impact they landed against your delicate cervix.  

His head fell down to your shoulder as his chest heaved, breathing heavy. 

You felt as though your head was spinning as your breathing evened out, absentmindedly running your fingers along the pebbled chain of the dog tags that settled between his pecs on a soft bed of sparse, golden chest hair and freckles sparingly scattered across his chest.

Your fingers paused, retracting them to hold onto his shoulder as his breathing settled.

This arrangement was meant to get you both the most of freedom and of pleasure. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

He placed a kiss along your neck. His soft touch almost made you sigh.  

Almost.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut, basking in the moment of feeling him still inside you. His softening cock letting his release dribble around the seams of where his cock perfectly encased itself between your folds.  

His head rose up to meet your face, cheeks flushed and sensuous evergreen eyes that seemed to glow with a post high gaze.

“Meet same time tomorrow?”

People who may be interested <3

@roosterforme @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @withahappyrefrain @entertainmentgirl80 @teacupsandtopgun @seresinhangmanjake @goldenseresinretriever @sailor-aviator @hello7442 @gigisimsonmars @yepyeahuhhuh @tess-lecter-blog@hookslove1592 @86laura11 @seresinsbrat @isabelstardis @shamelessghostwagonwobbler @emma8895eb @taytaylala12 @kmc1989 @h-ngm-ns @hangmans-wingman @marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen   @callmemana@joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @djs8891 @novastories@urmom-999 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30@shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @slippinginto-theairwaves

[hangmansgbaby]

Hi!!! Can I request a one shot where reader is mav’s daughter/Bradley’s “sister” but she doesn’t have a good relationship w either because she’s always been in Bradley’s shadow. Instead of her moving around w MAV she was sent to boarding school and Bradley always says that Mav just didn’t want to deal w her and things like that. Reader and Jake are dating (bonding over daddy issues lol) and it’s apt of angst between Mav Bradley and reader and fluff between jake and reader 😭

Always Darling | 1 | J.Seresin

Summary: No one was prepared for what was going to happen walking into the Hard Deck that day. Maverick wasn’t prepare to see in daughter and nephew for the first time in 20 years nor the memories seeing them would bring up. Bradley wasn’t prepared to see the girl he saw as a little sister, let alone see her all over Hangman. Willow was not prepared to see both of them in class that next morning, let alone how small she’d feel like she was back in perfect Bradley Bradshaw’s shadow all those years ago. But when she finally confronts him? Their mission may be in jeopardy.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC!Willow "Vixen" Seresin, brief mentions of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x OC Daughter!Willow "Vixen" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC God Sister!Willow "Vixen" Seresin

Warnings: angst, fluff, daddy issues

Note: none :)

Apr 2024 note: I did end up updating this into an OC as I dont write my series as a reader insert anymore.

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist | Always Darling Masterlist

"What do we have here?" Hangman shouts smugly. "If it ain't Phoenix!" Hangman leans against the pool table as the Phoenix walks up to him.

“I missed you!” Willow hugs her.

“I missed you too.”

"And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone." Willow elbows her boyfriend's ribs, walking straight back over to the table.

"Fellas, this here's Bagman." Phoenix introduces him to the boys behind her.

"Hangman."

"Whatever." Phoenix smiles sarcastically. "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill."

"Stop." Hangman acts humbled, causing Willow to laugh.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War."

"Cold War. Different wars, same century."

"Not this one." Willow smiles, pulling the pool cue from Coyote’s hands.

"Who are your friends?" Coyote asks.

"Payback."

"Fanboy." There's a brief pause before he questions, "Who’s she?”

"Vixen.“ Jake answers, pulling her around the table to stand in front of him. He positions her to where her back is against his chest. “My beautiful girlfriend.” Jake kisses her temple as she laughs, pulling away from him.

"Hey Coyote." Phoenix greets.

"Hey."

"Who's he?" Phoenix asks.

"Who's who?" Coyote questions before the attention is turned to the man sitting in the barstool nearby.

"When did you get in?" Coyote asks.

"Oh, I've been here the whole time."

"Man's a stealth pilot." Hangman chuckles.

"Literally." Coyote chimes in.

"Weapons system officer, actually."

"With no sense of humor." Hangman sighs, handing Phoenix his pool cue, walking to the bar.

"What do they call you? Willow questions.

"Bob.”

"No your callsign." Payback asks.

"Bob."

"Bob Floyd? You're my new backseater? From Lemoore?"

"Looks like it. Yeah." Bob nods.

"Nine ball, Bob." Phoenix hands him the pool cue. "Rack'em." She takes the extended cue from Willow who walks after her boyfriend.

“Penny my dear. I’ll have 4 beers on the old timer.”

“Better be getting one for me too.” Willow bounces up to the bar top.

“I could never forget my best girl.” Jake’s southern drawl flutters out. Willow leans into his side as Penny returns with their drinks.

“Hey Willow! You back too?” Penny questions, wiping down the bar as they pick up the bottles.

“Yea. How have you been?” Willow smiles.

“Good, ya know I just saw-“

“Willow?” Willow glances behind Penny to see none other than her father sitting on the other side of the bar.

“Maverick.” She nods curtly.

“Sweetheart-“ Maverick tries but she shuts him down.

“Don’t. Not here.” She shakes her head, turning away from the bar. “Let’s go Jake.”

"Bradshaw!" Phoenix calls. "Is that you?" Willow snaps her head around.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She groans. The pornstache and tacky Hawaiian shirt caught her eye.

"This is how I find out your stateside?"

"Yeah, I just thought I'd surprise you." Bradley smirks, walking up to the pool table just in time for Phoenix to pull back on the pool cue causing Bradley to double over in pain from the impact.

"I guess I surprised you back." Phoenix says, turning around.

"It's good to see you." Bradley smiles, as he stands up.

"Good to see you too."

"Bradshaw, as I live and breathe." Hangman says, returning from the bar. He hands out the beers he brought back before removing the pool cue from Bob's hands.

"Hangman. You look good." Rooster nods at him, already annoyed.

"Well, I am good, Rooster. Real good. In fact, I am too good to be true." Hangman answers looking around at the group. Willow groans, sitting in one of the barstools nearby.

"So, anybody know what this special detachment is all about?" Coyote asks.

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me. What I want to know: Who's gonna be team leader? And which one of y'all has what it takes to follow me?" Hangman says, making a couple shots on the pool table.

"Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave." Rooster retorts.

"Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel." Willow snarks.

Hangman leans against the pool table. "But that's just you ain't it, Rooster? You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment, that never comes." Hangman says, stopping when he is inches away from Bradley's face. "I love this song." He smiles, walking away.

"Well he hasn't changed." Phoenix says.

"Nope." Bradley eyes Willow, offering her a smile. She just scoffs and walks towards the door.

“Darlin, where are you going?” Jake calls, pulling her to a stop.

“I…” she struggles with the words, hearing the piano radiate through the room. “Fuck.” She groans, glancing behind Jake as Bradley starts singing. “Can we just go home? Please?”

“Yea, baby of course. Let me go pay off our tab. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

“Okay,” Willow nods, quickly walking out of the Hard Deck.

“Willow! Wait up!”

Willow glances behind her to see her father following behind her. “No. I’m not doing this with you now.”

“Willow, come on. You can’t still be mad.”

“You sent me to boarding school!”

“You were a trouble stu-“

“Right, troubled.” Willow scoffs, laughing lightly. “I just wanted my dad to see me. Treat me just like he did perfect little Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I didn’t treat you any differently.” Pete defends.

“Oh really? ‘Bradley’s going to state champs,’ ‘Bradley got straight A’s,’ Bradley this and Bradley that!” Willow shouts. “But did I get any praise? No! I get one B and immediately it’s ‘well when Bradley took that class!’ I am so sick of you comparing us! He’s not even your son!”

“He’s been through a lot.” Mav says, but it only makes Willow’s anger worse.

“So have I!” Willow shouts. “I lost everything. Mom! Uncle Goose! Aunt Carole! You! I lost people too!”

“Me?” Mav questions.

“Yes you! You left as soon as you dropped me off at boarding school and never came back!”

“I did what was best for you!” Mav retorts, yelling.

“Yea, whatever helps you sleep at night asshole.” She mutters, turning away from him. “Go back to perfect Bradley.” Mav had since walked away but only to be replaced.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“Piss off Bradshaw! I am not in the mood.” Willow groans, still walking towards Jake’s truck.

“Come on! You seemed to have plenty to say a minute ago.”

“You know what? I am so sick and tired of you thinking you’re better than me!” Willow shouts. “Always telling me how I should feel, or act. You’re nothing but a spoiled ass little orphan who can’t take no for an answer.”

“Same old Willow. I don’t blame your dad for leaving you at that school. You were always too much to handle.”

“Oh that's it!” Willow goes to charge him but is interrupted by Jake walking up.

“Everything alright out here?” Jake asks, jogging up to Willow.

“Yea, let’s just go home.” Willow pulls him with her to the truck, immediately climbing inside.

“You okay?” Jake questions after about 5 minutes, halfway to the condo they rented.

“Yea, just… can we not talk about it?”

“Of course.” Jake smiles, his hand rubbing circles into her thigh.

Willow retreated to the master as soon as Jake parked the truck.

“Darlin?” Jake followed her in. He quickly dropped their things by the door and followed her into the room. “Darlin what’s wrong?”

Willow immediately curled into the bed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She sighed, willing herself not to cry.

“That's fine. We can just lay here, okay?” Jake sits on the bed, opening his arms for Willow to slide into him and she does. Her cheek resting in his chest, one arm over his torso while both of his wrapped around her. “You know I love you right?”

“Of course. You know I love you?”

“Always darling.” He plants a kiss on her forehead as she slowly drifts to sleep. “We’ll get through this detachment. Together like everything else.” Be gently kisses her head again before drifting to sleep himself.

[spasmsofthought]

you fell hard, I thought good riddance (j.s. x reader)

An angsty thing inspired by “Best” by Gracie Abrams. (I wrote this at work cause I had the free time and couldn’t help myself.) Let me know what you think! (Probably some inaccuracies, especially if you squint - my step-dad may have done a career in the Navy, but I did and will not lol.) Wrote this all at once, so please have grace for any spelling or grammar mistakes. xo 

Next

https://open.spotify.com/track/5HO2RD12vZ5NcIdAULo43M?si=0ce82485daa44829

+++

Jake knows what he did. 

While not at the forefront of his mind, it weighs on the deepest part of his consciousness and he’s reminded of what he did in what feels like the most random moments. 

When he’s swallowing the last drops of beer in the bottle that’s pressed to his mouth. Or when he’s standing on the beach as the waves are softly rolling against the shore and it’s quiet. Or when he ends up on the couch watching crappy television at 3 a.m. because his flashbacks are keeping him awake and the moment his eyes close, he feels like he’s startled awake because a brightly-colored ad is flashing on the TV screen. 

He sees you every once and a while, he thinks. Whether it’s when he’s tipsy at The Hard Deck and sees someone turn the corner who looks just enough like you from the back. Someone can laugh just the right way down the hall when he’s in the office at work and he has to do a double-take to make sure it’s not you that’s laughing. 

He’s never actually, though, confronted with your physical presence until he finds himself at a joint military exercise in European waters and you are on the same carrier. He’s walking into the cafeteria after a morning of training exercises and immediately zeroes in on you. Once he’s aware of you, he can’t look away. 

It takes a moment for your senses to catch on. (To be fair, the cafeteria is not really known to be an oasis of peace. It’s loud and busy. You’re sitting with friends anyhow.) Your eyes flit to the area where he’s making his way in and he can tell the moment your mind makes sense of what you’re seeing. You glance at him for one long moment, and then you turn towards your friends and stay that way until you all leave. The only thing that has changed about your demeanor is the frown that settles on your expression throughout the rest of your meal. 

He thinks you look even better now than you did back then. 

He thinks he took you by surprise. That you’ve gotten so used to not seeing him around on your deployments and where you’re stationed that you didn’t think you would need to brace yourself on this go around. 

Jake knows what he did and he feels terrible. He didn’t then, but he does now.

Seeing you in actual flesh and blood makes him remember. 

He remembers your utter devotion during your brief time together. 

He remembers that the first time he approached you, he made you laugh. The kind of laughter that leaves a person gasping for air and makes their eyes water. You fell hook, line, and sinker. He remembers the way you would try to make time and space for him whenever you could, despite how busy you were trying to progress in your career. He remembers how he didn’t do the same. 

He remembers that on your off days, you would come over and stay the nights. He remembers the smell of you when you would climb into bed next to him after showering. And when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind was churning and taking him back to things he just wanted to forget, you would sit next to him on the couch at 3 a.m. as he turned the television on. When he closed his eyes, he knows you were the one to turn to TV screen off so he didn’t wake up. He remembers how you would kiss him: sweet and complete and open, always moving in step with him. 

He remembers how wholehearted you were when you were with him. Giving your whole self, all the time. 

Even when he would say sharp, caustic words that would make tears form in your eyes, even when he shut his bedroom door so he wouldn’t feel responsible for making you cry, you stayed. 

He remembers the way you stayed. 

And he remembers how his half-hearted attempts, quarter-hearted attempts really, to draw you back in eventually ran you dry. You were willing to do so much, and he wasn’t really willing to do anything. He was young, but he knows that’s not an excuse now. 

He remembers the light in your eyes changing. He remembers the way you stopped coming over. He remembers the way you didn’t have the courage to tell him you wanted to leave. 

He remembers that you held onto him until the bitter end. 

He knows you won’t talk to him. Every time you see him on the carrier, you make a point to avoid him or walk the other way. He knows you probably resent him (there’s a reason he can’t find you on any social media platforms). He understands why you don’t seem to want anything to do with him. 

So, he investigates. He does what he knows how to do best: he talks and charms and weasels his way through the crowds of people on the carrier. Making his way from one group to another, day and night, Jake gleans for information and eventually finds what he needs. He knows your bunkmate’s name now (and their shift and their position, and even where they like to hang out and what time they prefer to go to the gym). 

You may never read it, he knows. You may can it or tear it up and throw it out into the ocean. You may even wait until you can set it on fire and watch it burn. 

But he knows he has to try. 

So when he finds your bunkmate, he hands them a piece of paper and tells them it’s for you. It’s small and doesn’t take up much room. Your bunkmate only nods, a look of confusion passing over their face. He says it’s important that it be delivered to you. Those are his only instructions. 

If he had the opportunity to talk to you in person, he might have the chance to elongate. To say more, be more. But he might not ever get the chance to do that, so he’s going to take what he can get. 

You pass your bunkmate between shifts: you’re just getting back for some sleep, and they’re heading out. They say there’s a piece of paper you need to read on your pillow. Hand-delivered, they say the instructions were. No follow-up is required. You wait until they leave. Until you’re left alone. 

You open up the folded-up piece of paper. 

This is what it says: 

I’m sorry. You deserved better. 

[bradshawsvinyl]

Tolerate It

Things had been off with Jake recently. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Or so you thought.

read part two here.

warnings: mentions of cheating, angst, jake is a jerk, reader has anxiety but not explicitly stated, gaslighting??

Jake had been off recently. You couldn’t exactly place your finger on what was wrong but he had been acting differently. The longing glances you used to share seemed to become shorter each passing day. The eyes that once looked at you with love and trust had slowly started to fade until there was nothing left.

At first, you thought he had just been busy with work. After all, he was one of the best pilots in the Navy. You thought it was just another bump on the road that was your relationship. You figured he’d tell you what was upsetting him and you guys would be able to go through it and move on together.

“Jake,” you said while knocking on the door to your shared bedroom. “Please talk to me.”

He had come home from work and seemingly blown off all your attempts at affection. He just went straight upstairs to your bedroom and began talking on the phone.

That was another thing. Jake had been using his phone a lot more recently. He had tried to hide it and use it at times when he thought you were sleeping or were too busy to notice but you had been paying attention.

A part of you wanted to believe that Jake wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You had known him for years. You had been together since high school. You followed him all over the country. You waited for him when he was deployed. You thought that he would do everything in his power to protect your emotions.

The rational part of you knew that he had to be hiding something. Your relationship had seemingly gone in limbo. You felt like you were trying and giving your all while Jake was giving you nothing back. You were tired of feeling like a burden. You needed reassurance. All you wanted was for him to tell you what was going on.

“Jake,” you knocked again. “Please open the door.” You were on the verge of tears. You just wanted to talk to him. You just wanted him to look you in the eyes and tell you that everything was okay. You wanted to hear him say “I love you.” Finally, the door opened.

“What is your problem,” he said, voice laced with anger.

“My problem? You’re seriously asking what my problem is.” You spat back at him. “My problem is you don’t talk to me anymore. There’s something off about you recently. You’ve been acting differently.”

Jake just stared at you and then walked downstairs.

“Where are you going,” you asked while running after him.

“Out.” He replied.

“What do you mean you’re going out? Jake just talk to me please it doesn’t have to be like this. I love you.” You said as tears started welling up in your eyes.

“I’ll be back.” He replied coldly. “I just need some space.” With that he slipped on his shoes and slammed the door to your shared home.

You went upstairs to your bedroom with the intention to just go to sleep. He’d talk to you when he was ready. Maybe something had happened in training today. That had to be the reason he was acting so cold.

As you settled into the bed, you noticed a vibration. You quickly realized Jake had left his phone at home.

You looked at the screen and saw that he was receiving a call from your friend, Juliana. No no no no no no. You thought to yourself as the tears began again. This couldn’t be true. Of course, you had your suspicions but you thought you were being silly. Jake wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Or would he?

Why would he need to be talking to Juliana. She was your friend after all. They had only met briefly a few times. They had barely exchanged two words. You wanted to believe that there was nothing wrong with the interaction. Maybe they were trying to get to know each other better, for your sake.

You walked downstairs and started pacing the living room, waiting for Jake’s arrival. You had to get to the bottom of this. Maybe Juliana was helping him out with something. You thought. Or maybe this was who he had been sharing all these secret phone calls with. Maybe this is who he was referencing everytime he said training had run late or he was going out.

How could you be so naive? There had to be an explanation for this. Jake was the love of your life. He was your first everything. He wouldn’t betray your trust like this. He wouldn’t be seeing another woman. Let alone your friend. Or would he?

[missathlete31]

The new twisters promo is making me think of a JakexOC story where Hangman was actually engaged to the daughter of Bill and Jo Harding (I named her Jules in my mind), but they broke up a few years ago when they both couldn't get past how dangerous the other's jobs were.

Now all these years later they meet back up when the Daggers organize this storm chasing expedition and Jules is in Oklahoma trying to get her latest invention into the air. She followed in her parent's footsteps and has been trying to develop sensors that (using her parent's Dorothy contraption) could disrupt the air flow and stop a twister in it's track.

When Jules sees Jake out in the field with amateur storm chasers she is livid at his carelessness and chastises him for being a hypocrite. Meanwhile Hangman tries to hide his history with the scientist from the rest of the team, while defending himself from his past actions. Just as the argument begins to get heated, a twister forms and the couple are forced to seek shelter together.

When the danger passes, the duo remembers just how much the other means to them and Jake offers to stay with Jules during this unprecedented series of storms. Together, they hope to not only survive the deadly wrath of Mother Nature but their own past mistakes as well.

Sooooo what do we think folks?

[mlqueen89]

❥ playlist ♡ Ao3 ♡ ko-fi ❥

❥ One | Flyboy ❥ Two | ❥ Three | ❥ Four | ❥ Five | ❥ Six | ❥ Seven | ❥ Eight | ❥ Nine | ❥ Ten |

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 14

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy has a great time meeting Jake’s family but not everything is as it seems.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“Hi there, sweetie,” The woman I recognized as Caroline pulled me into a hug, her older sister, Helen, was next. Both women were tall and blonde, sporting matching dimpled smiles and had the same green eyes as my boyfriend. Helen was slightly taller than Caroline, both of whom were absolutely beautiful in their casually cute clothjes.

“It’s so good to finally meet the woman who has little Jakey wrapped around her finger,” I blushed hard, chuckling softly.

“I don’t know about that but it’s nice to meet you too. Jake’s sorry he couldn’t make it,” Helen waved it off.

“We’re a Navy family, we get it.” 

“What we don’t get,” Caroline was grinning from ear to ear, grabbing my hand off of the table, squeezing it tight. “Is how someone as amazing as you settled for our brother.”

“Be nice,” Mama chided but Caroline was undeterred. I could see Jake in his family, their relentlessness, the way the corners of their eyes crinkled when they smiled, and the way they showed their affection through touch.

“You’re cute as a button and a famous author, Jakey says you’re a fantastic cook and an even better baker, the total package. So, how did he trick you into dating him?” 

“There was no tricking involved,” I laughed, I squeezed Caroline’s hand. “At first I thought he was a bit…” I trailed off, not sure what to say in front of his family but Helen swooped in with a laugh.

“Of an ass?” 

“I actually laughed in his face the first time he tried to flirt with me,” His sisters cackled in delight. “But he won me over. He listens to all my rambling, buys me lots of M&Ms, and makes me feel like the most important person in any room.” A wave of sadness washed over me, Jake’s absence suddenly ten times harder. “He was really excited to come,” I added softly, my smile faltering. Helen and Caroline shared a look then smiled at me,

“You really love him, huh?” Helen asked, I just nodded. “Well, then welcome to the family, Daisy.” No one said anything as I less-than-discreetly wiped away tears that pooled in my eyes, the conversation turning towards what we were all going to order. 

“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” Mqama asked, I shook my head and she smiled. “Good, I have a roast on for dinner tonight. I meant to ask Jacob but then the specialist called.” The specialist? I didn’t pry, it wasn’t my business, but Jake had mentioned his father having health issues in the past, so I filed away the information for later. Surely they would have called Jake if it was about his father and Jake would have told me. 

“You know, rumor has it that you’re working on a romance book,” Helen said after we placed our orders.

“Really now?” I laughed, wondering whether it was my agent or my publisher that had started the rumor. They were both desperate for me to send pages of a romance novel and I would never put it past them to try and use fan-pressure to push me.

“I was at a book signing a few years ago, you said you’d never write anything but detective stories,” Caroline added, sipping her water. “Did something or someone maybe,” Oh God, they were worse than Jake, “Change your mind?” 

“I wouldn’t believe all the rumors you hear,” Is all I said, shaking my head. The sisters whined, Caroline sticking her bottom lip out. “I am working on a new series though.” 

“A romantic one?” Helen asked hopefully, frowning when I shook my head. “Come on, Daisy! We’re your sisters-in-laws, you can tell us you’re writing a romance book.” 

“Did I miss a wedding?” I laughed, cheeks hot at the idea of getting married to their brother. I knew if he was here, Jake would tell them the exact number of days between now and when he could propose. 

“The wedding is a technicality-” Helen waved it off.

“I think we all know Jakey is going to propose,” Caroline added, my blush getting hotter.

“Girls, he said not to tease her,” Mama chastised. “But we really do hope he proposes soon, Franklin proposed to me after a month.” A month in, I still wasn’t sure if Jake actually liked me, I thought with a smile, shaking my head.

“Isaac proposed to me after eight,” Caroline added. Helen shrugged,

“I proposed to Ray after two years, he was taking too long.” I raised my hand to where the dog tag chain rested around my neck, missing Jake. If he was here he’d probably have his hand on my thigh beneath the table, teasing Helen for proposing, teasing me about how much his family liked me, and whispering in my ear, asking if the one-year rule still stood. 

“I know he’s thinking about it,” I sighed, pulling the tags out of my shirt to hold them. “And when the time is right, I’ll say yes. Now, are you going to make me beg for embarrassing stories about my boyfriend?” 

Lunch went well, then Caroline and Helen insisted that we go shopping at some local boutiques. I picked up a sweatshirt with the town name on it, Jake would probably get a kick out of me wearing it, and I bought a box of homemade saltwater taffy that Caroline said was Jake’s favorite. After the last store, mama took me home, telling me more stories about Jake as we drove.

“Franklin, you can call him pops, might be taking a nap when we get inside,” Mama warned when we pulled into the driveway. The property was beautiful, the driveway must have been a mile long, lined with gorgeous scenery, horses, and cows. I had never seen anything like it and against all of my instincts, I could hear the whispers of a sweet-talking cowboy in my mind. 

“Nothing wrong with a good nap,” I laughed, “It must take a lot of energy to keep up with this place.” Mama patted my shoulder,

“How right you are, sweetheart. Let’s get your bags in the house,” The house was quiet when we entered and mama showed me to Jake’s old bedroom where I’d be staying. “Settle in, maybe take some time to write. Jacob said you were the type to appreciate alone time.” 

“You make it sound like he never stops talking about me,” Mama chuckled.

“That’s because he doesn’t, sweetheart.” Her words sunk into me as the door shut behind her, leaving me alone in Jake’s room. I shut the door, digging into Jake’s checked luggage that he had to abandon when he got called in and pulled on one of his sweatshirts, breathing in his familiar scent. 

“I wish you were here,” I whispered, crawling into his bed. The sheets were a similar green plaid to those he had on his bed back in California and the walls were covered with posters of baseball and football players. 

Daisy: I miss you 

I stared at the text for a long time before deleting it. Jake needed to focus on his mission, not on me. Instead I texted Penny, who had undoubtedly heard that the squad was being deployed through Mav.

Daisy: They’re going to be okay, right? 

Penny: Try not to worry, D. Hangman will do whatever he can to come home to you

Daisy: How do you do it?

Penny: When Mav flies, I trust that he’s an amazing pilot who knows he has people waiting on him at home, just like Hangman does

Daisy: When does it start getting easier?

Penny: I’ll let you know when I figure it out

I groaned, pulling the hood of Jake’s sweatshirt over my head so that I was surrounded by his scent. What had I been thinking, agreeing to meet Jake’s family alone? I was in way over my head, that was clear. Jake had warned me that his family was keen on us getting married and how excited they were to meet me but I hadn’t expected to feel this overwhelmed by it all. To be fair, I hadn’t expected to be alone either. 

“Jake Seresin,” I pulled the blanket over my head, “You better come home to me.” 

When I woke up from my nap the smell of pot roast had filled the house, I sleepily climbed out of bed and headed for the stairs. 

“What did the oncologist say?” Mama asked, her voice floating up the stairs. Oncologist? I froze. Jake hadn’t said what his dad was sick with but I knew enough about cancer to know it could come back. I finished going down the stairs, finding mama in the kitchen with a frail looking man  who resembled Jake and it was clear. 

Mama and the man I assumed was pops turned around and by their reactions, I knew my face was saying exactly what I was thinking. 

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Honey Bunny.” 

“You’re sick again, aren’t you?” My voice was soft, if his dad was sick, it would kill him. 

“This isn’t exactly how I planned on meeting you, Daisy.” Pops stood on shaky legs, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of me. He took my hands in his, “But yes, the cancer came back.” 

“I have to call Jake,” I reached for my phone.

“Don’t, please, Daisy,” Mama begged. “You can’t tell him, not if he’s deployed.” I paused, one hand held by pops, the other holding my phone. “If he gets upset and something happens-” There were tears all around when she said those words. “Please, don’t tell him.” 

She was right. If Jake’s emotions got the best of him while he was supposed to be focused on his mission, something bad could happen. And if something bad happened, his family would blame me and I wouldn’t be able to hold that against them because they’d be right. 

“Okay,” I held out my phone, not trusting myself with it. Mama took it then brought me into a hug, Pops joining in after a moment. 

X

“Stop grinding your teeth, you’ll give yourself a headache,” Phoenix shoved my shoulder. 

“Leave him alone, Phoenix. His girl is meeting his parents without him.” Rooster patted me on the back, “She’ll be fine, man. Your folks already love her.”

“I should be there,” I ground out. Javy shot me a look that told me to cool it. I loved being a pilot, I loved the Navy, and I loved Daisy. I should be there, holding her hand and suffering at the hands of my sisters. I should be showing her my favorite sweets shop, buying her more saltwater taffy than she could eat in a year, and sneaking kisses that would make her blush when my parents had their backs turned. 

“Mav said it was a quick hop, just focus on that,” Said Rooster and I prayed he was right because there was one place I needed to be right now and that was with my girlfriend.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

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