#hangman x female! oc

[reawritestoo]

Broken Wings - Part 1

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Spy! Female OC

Warnings: Torture, like rough grueling torture, not for the faint of heart, light swearing, character death, fictional wars

Word Count: 887

Summary: Jake is captured after being shot down by the enemy. He survives but that doesn’t mean he is safe. He is captured and forced to do the unthinkable. Not only does he have to survive being tortured but he also has to protect an inside spy from death.

A/N: I will be updating every Friday and Wednesday!

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“Tally two! Tally two!” Bob screams into the coms. Jake immediately goes into defensive mode and snaps his head, looking ahead. Two bogies are coming straight for Bob and Jake as they barely just got out of S.A.M. valley.

“We’re out of flares Hangman…” Bob breathes out, his voice is shaking.

“You don’t think I don’t know that Bob?” Jake growls, his mind is going thousands of miles an hour. Rooster and Mav were once in this situation. How did they get out? He remembers when Rooster and Mav had to give their mission report to Warlock and Cyclone, but the damned details of when they were being chased by two bogies are vague. Hangman reaches his mind for the information needed to get out of this situation.

Think Seresin, think!

“Hangman,” Bob spurts out, “we need to get out of this… NOW!”

Hangman never thought he would have a WSO but Maverick wanted to give him a challenge. Just another liability to Hangman. He hated having liabilities. When it was just him he only had to care for himself. Now he had Bob and himself to care for. He groaned when Maverick gave the orders. Either take Bob with him or be demoted. He begrudgingly agreed and trained with Bob till this inevitable mission. The mission? Take out enemy lines in North Korea as they increased their borders into South Korea. He was surprised he was given those orders, but he didn’t want to miss an incredible opportunity.

“Bob, they are making their move. We can’t get out of this,” Hangman shook out. His left hand shaking on the handle. They had accomplished their mission and were about to die. They were so close to being home free but the bogies had spotted them. If he had just gone faster, if he had just taken off a few seconds earlier, if if if. Hangman let a tear fall down his face and said, “When I tell you to, punch out.”

“Hangman there has to be another way!” Bob screamed out.

“Bob, please, when I tell you to, Punch. Out,” Hangman said evenly, he couldn’t let Bob hear the fear in his voice.

“On your mark,” Bob finally said after a few beats.

Hangman could feel his heart-rate picking up. He watched as the sixth generation bogies continued into formation.

“Bob, in five… four… three… two… one… PUNCH OUT!” Hangman closed his eyes as he heard the sound of the canopy opening and Bob flying out. He looked below him but didn’t see a parachute. He panicked and looked everywhere. “Where are you?!” Hangman screamed out. He felt his heart rate get faster and faster. He didn’t know his heart could go this fast.

What happened next was inevitable. The plane lurched forward and smoke filled the air, he was losing altitude at an ungodly speed. He breathed out and punched out himself. He could feel the plane fall below him as the parachute rose above him. The time from punching out to landing on the ground felt like an eternity. He could see the F-18 bogies above him shoot his plane more and more and eventually fly away. Why didn’t they try to shoot him?

He was panting by the time he made it to the ground. His body crunched to the ground in a soft snow. His pants were soaking wet. His senses were off kilter. His nose was running and his hands were numb.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” Jake jumped in fear, the man came out of nowhere. He turned around with his hands above his head and saw more than one man. There was a whole military present, all with their firearms pointed at his heart or face. He couldn’t tell which.

The man yelled something in Korean and suddenly Jake was surrounded and handcuffed. They pushed him to the ground face down in the snow. The cold flakes nipped at his cheeks. The man said something else in Korean and a sudden shot was fired and a gut wrenching scream filled the air. Jake had been shot in the leg. He knew of this procedure in training. It was till then did he remember what the North did to POWs. They shot their legs so they couldn’t run away. It was smart, he had to give it to them.

Blood flowed from his calf and the snow turned a bright red. Jake staggered his breathing. He had never felt pain like this in his life. He was always careful and never got injured in missions. This was something else.

“You might be feeling pain lieutenant…” The man’s Korean accent is thick, “We put a pain enhancer in the gun and bullet, it will dissolve and cause more pain. It will be fun to watch you writhe in pain,” the man shrugged. Another man laughed in the background.

Jake put all his focus on the snow below him, the pain creeping and getting worse. “Wait! Where is my WSO? What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh we shot him dead, he was already half dead anyway from falling out of your plane, no use in keeping him alive. As for you? You are going to go through hell,” The man snickered. Another man translated and everyone laughed around him.

[withahappyrefrain]

51) They’re professors who teach the same course but disagree over teaching methods with Jake and Venus…. It’s a match made in heaven

Jake Seresin prided himself on being the best. Not only was the first person in his immediate family to receive a master’s degree, but the first person in his entire family to get their doctorates. He didn’t just work at some local mom and pop doctor’s office, he had been an athletic trainer for a professional football team. He became one of the youngest professors to teach a graduate course at the University of Texas. Now, at the age of thirty six, he was one of the top professors at the University of San Diego for their athletic training program.

And of course, he wouldn't be Jake Seresin if he hadn't developed a name for himself. Dr. Seresin’s courses were known for being rigorous. Jake could count on one hand the number of students who received A’s from him. Though his tenure at USD hadn’t been long, he was well known among the students.

Comparisons between him and other professors would pop up, it was only natural. But one name kept coming up more and more.

Professor Morales.

Though she was part of the College of Medicine, Doctor Morales and Jake both taught Emergency Management of Injuries and Illnesses. The course overlapped with both the athletic training and the nursing program at USD. Truthfully, Jake thought teaching an undergraduate course was beneath him, but he knew he had managed a sweet deal with USD.

It seemed with every passing semester, Professor Morales’ name came up more and more amongst his students.

“I was hoping to get into Morales’ section.”

“I heard Morales is the one to take for that course.”

“I wish I was in Morales’ class.”

Jake tried not to let it get to him. Clearly, his students weren’t accustomed to being held to high expectations. He would put them to work and they would be better off as a result. In Jake’s mind, he was simply preparing his students for the real world, which was fast paced and intensive.

And for a while, he was satisfied with that. But then something unusual began happening.

Not only were more and more of his students passing, but more were getting higher marks. Last semester, Jake had to give three students an A. He was now nearing the double digits in the number of students who had aced his course. What the fuck was going on?

And then he heard it, as students were leaving after receiving their first graded test back.

“My friend has notes from Professor Morales’ class. She said if we use them, we'll pass the class.”

No, that wouldn't do. Not only was Jake having students pass, but the fact they were using another professor’s notes to do so? Worse of all, Morales was a doctoral student.

This had to end immediately.

Jake sent a strongly worded email, letting her know he was going to be in her office at one-thirty to discuss a pertinent matter.

Much to Jake’s dismay, when he arrived he found that Morales had not cleared their schedule and was in the middle of holding office hours. Pathetic. Jake’s office hours were his time to catch up on grading. He had given his students the tools to pass, they knew not to come to him.

By the time it was two, Jake’s anger was barely concealed.

As the last student walked out of the office, a soft voice called out from the officer, “You can come in now Doctor Seresin.” She even had the audacity to sound so nonchalant, like she hadn’t just made him wait for forty-five minutes.

Jake stormed in, already ranting, “Y’know, there’s this thing called courtesy. I made it explicitly clear when I was arriving and you kept me waiting-

He stopped dead in his tracks. Jake wasn't familiar with mythology, but he was pretty certain he was looking at Venus reincarnated. The emerald green pants hugged her hips and thighs. God, her curves. He could imagine what the fabric did for her ass, if she just turned around and-

Fuck, he should not be thinking about a graduate assistant like this. Had it been that long since he last got laid?

“Um, is Professor Morales here?” Jake cleared his throat.

The goddess scoffed, “You’re looking at her. So please, continue Doctor Seresin. I believe you were questioning my audacity to continue holding office hours at my scheduled time rather than drop everything for a man who emailed me no less than four hours ago?”

Right, that's why he was here. To discuss an important matter. Not to gawk over this woman. Yes, she was the living embodiment of Venus. But she was also ruining his perfect record.

“Yes. Well you see, I need to talk to you. About your uh, class.” Why were words becoming difficult for him? Jake never had any trouble laying on the charm to get what he wanted. Till now.

“I teach three different classes, Doctor Seresin. Gonna need you to be a bit more specific,” she smirked before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uh, emergency management of injuries and illnesses? Anyways, my students are using notes from your class.”

She raised a brow, “Really?” Stepping closer, Jake could smell her perfume. Jasmine. Iris. Her scent was as intoxicating as her quick wit.

“And this is a problem that warranted a meeting because….” Her voice trailed off, waiting for an answer.

“Because of your notes, they're passing. It's a problem,” He fought for his eyes to remain anywhere but her face. His skin felt hot, clammy.

“Is that so?” There was…glee? In her voice? She waltzed back to her desk, giving Jake a view of her ass and how the fabric left nothing to the imagination.

“Well Doctor Seresin, that is important. Thank you for telling me,” she opened her laptop, well manicured fingers beginning to type away.

“T-thank you, Venus-I mean Professor Morales. I trust you're going to deal with it in your next class?”

Her fingers stilled and she looked up at Jake with a gleam in her eyes, accentuated by the black frames that adorned her face, “Next class? I'm dealing with it right now.”

“Oh thank you, I appreciate-”

“I've been telling the Dean for two semesters how awful of a teacher you are for that course. Your students being so desperate to learn the material that they use my teaching materials, is exactly that evidence I need to convince Doctor Krazansky that I should teach all sections of that course.”

“Wait, what?”

She simply smiled, “That's all I'll need from you today, Doctor Seresin. Have a good day.”

Venus paused, her eyes moving from his face to down his body, “Oh, also. You should um, take care of your problem. Bathroom’s on the left.”

It was then Jake became painfully aware of how tight his pants were in the crotch area.

He needed to take care of it. He also needed to buy a ring for his Venus, but that was a whole different story.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Cowboy Resolutions

Summary: New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck with all of your friends was a tradition, one that you loved and held close to your heart. When you and your husband decide to slip away from the crowd for a late night stroll on the beach right before midnight, you realize that neither of you had the purest of intentions when it came to wanting to get away. 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Smut with a dash of fluff, including shenanigans in public. Language.

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You feel his arms wrap around you right before you hear his voice in your ear, low and husky and trying too hard to be sexy to actually be sexy. 

“Hey there darlin. How about we be naughty together and save Santa a trip next year?” 

You can’t help the snort you let out as you start laughing. Jake kisses your neck playfully before you turn in his arms to face him, chest pressed to his. You’re careful not to spill the drink you had just gotten. “If that’s how it works, I’m pretty sure we secured our spot on the naughty list on Christmas day a week ago, pretty boy.” 

He wags his eyebrows dramatically, drawing another giggle out of you. “I think you’re right, beautiful. Several times, if I remember correctly.”

“On that note, I’m going to play pool before I vomit everywhere.” 

You ignore Nat’s gag and loud proclamation; you don’t need to look at her to know that she rolled her eyes as she walked away from where the two of you had been chatting at the bar before your husband had interrupted. 

“Well they say you’re supposed to bring in the year the way you want to spend it,” you tell him, and he hums thoughtfully. 

“A year of amazing sex with my absolutely smokin’ wife? Screw the good list, where do I sign?” 

His voice gets lower the closer he brings his face to yours, and by the last word, you can feel him speak against your lips. You grin into it when he finally kisses you. Despite the fact that every regular in the bar should be used to seeing your public displays of affection after years of it, cat calls still ring out over the sound of chatter and the jukebox. You roll your eyes while you pull away, but Jake’s shameless smirk is enough to soften your smile. 

“Jealous fuckers,” he mutters, and you’ve gone through this enough to know he’s only joking. His eyebrows raise again and he lets his hand drift to slide over your butt, squeezing once through the material of your skirt. “Maybe we should really give them something to gawk out.” 

You laugh at his familiar antics and shake your head. “Down, Cowboy.”

But you know that Jake's playful nature, one that not many people get to see, is one of the things you love most about him. His ability to make even the simplest moments feel special and exciting is what keeps the flame alive in your relationship, even after all this time.  

“Aww, darlin. You’re no fun.” 

“Careful now,” you tell him, linking your fingers through his and starting to make your way through the crowd to where your friends have gathered by the pool tables. You grin at him playfully over your shoulder, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Or you won’t get any kisses at midnight.” 

The sound of Jake’s laughter was one of your favorite sounds in the whole world, and you let it surround you as you greet the group you considered family. New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck was something you had done the last two years, and with this third occurrence, you thought it was a solidified tradition amongst you all. It’s nice, being able to have those now. You and Jake have moved around a handful of times in your relationship, never in one spot for long, but San Diego is somewhere you’re so glad to actually call home now. It’s something you were unbelievably grateful for - that, and these people who continuously brought so much joy into your life. 

As the night wears on, the bar becomes increasingly crowded and lively. The music thumps through the speakers, blending with the laughter and conversations that filled the air. It’s when Bradley unplugs the jukebox and settles in at the old, worn piano by the bar that your husband links his fingers through yours, tugging lightly. You look over at him to see him tilt his head toward the general direction of the back door. You smile lightly, knowing what he’s asking without him having to utter a word, and you nod. 

As you take a break from the crowded bar and step outside into the crisp night air, Jake wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“Take a walk with me?” he asks, and you murmur your assent. You know that the heeled boots you’re wearing won’t mix well with the sand, so using him as an anchor, you bend to take them off. You sigh in relief once your toes hit the sand, feeling cool and refreshing through the barrier of your socks. 

“Lead the way,” you smile. 

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the ocean.  He keeps you tucked into his side as you walk along the empty beach, the music and lights from the bar fading with every step. The chilly wind bites at your cheeks, but the warmth of the alcohol you had consumed and Jake's body keeps you cozy. If you weren’t always so in tune with his touch, you may have missed the way his hand progressively slid lower and lower on your back. 

“I feel like you didn’t have the purest intentions with this walk,” you murmur. A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the breeze and everything to do with the sound of his low, deep laughter. It rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your side. 

“Well, darlin’, you know me too well.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "Maybe I had a little ulterior motive," he admits, his voice laced with something.  “What do you say?” 

You giggle as he kisses down the side of your face, featherlight and intoxicating, and tugs lightly on your ear. “Here?” 

“No,” he says, “there.” 

He points, and through the darkness, you see the old lifeguard stand, unmanned this late at night, especially this far down the beach. His suggestion hangs in the air, thick with appeal and eagerness.

“Well,” you say after a brief moment of contemplation that really didn’t take long at all. You take a step away from him, your body automatically missing his warmth even as it thrummed with excitement. You shoot him a look that you know he recognizes by how his smile transforms. “I did say you should bring in the year the way you want to spend it, didn’t I?” 

You take off in a run at the same moment he reaches for you, and you squeal with laughter as he chases you right to where he pointed earlier - right to where you want him now. 

He presses you against the wooden structure once you both reach it, and without breaking stride, his lips are on yours. The kiss is slow and tantalizing at first, but soon enough, it deepens, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth in a familiar dance that leaves you breathless. He tastes like whiskey and the leftover mini candy canes you kept in your purse and your heart races. The sounds of the crashing waves and distant partying from the bar fade away as you sink into his embrace. You feel his other hand slide up your thigh, tracing slow circles on your skin. His touch is electric, making your body hum. Even the cool breeze nipping at your exposed skin isn’t enough to cool you down. 

As he pulls back, breathing heavily, you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of it between them. His breath comes out hot against your lips as he whispers, "I love how responsive you are to me."

His mouth descends upon yours again. His hand moves higher, cupping your breast through your sweater, his fingers teasing your nipple through the fabric. Your response is instantaneous; you arch your back and groan, completely caught up in the moment.  "How do you want it?" he asks, kisses trailing down your neck. You tilt your head to allow easier access to your throat. 

"Jake," you moan. You clutch at him, one hand in his hair and the other wrinkling the material of his flannel shirt. 

"Tell me, darlin'," he requests, commands, and you whimper as it's accompanied by a bite of your skin. "How do you want it? You want to climb up in the chair? Or you want me to take you right here against it?" 

It was hard to think with the way he was touching you and the feel of his lips on yours. But you suddenly had the undeniable urge to ride him. The added bonus of being elevated off the ground like you would be, all the while being safe in your husband’s arms, sent a chill of excitement through you. “Up,” you breathe, pushing him away just slightly. 

You’re both clumsy as you eagerly climb up onto the raised, wide seat. You hiss at the cold of the wood as your knees settle on either side of his thighs, but his touch distracts you immediately as he tugs your short skirt up to bunch at your waist, allowing you to sit on his lap more comfortably and without risk of stretching the material. You smirk for just a second before a groan tears from his throat when his fingers meets nothing but skin. 

“You forget to put something on, baby?” he husks, and you shake your head. You don’t even try to look innocent. 

“You weren’t the only one with ulterior motives, Cowboy.” 

Your hands move to his belt buckle, undoing it with practiced ease. He watches you intently as you move on to the button and zip of his jeans. He's hard under your hands and god, you want him. But you know you're not the only one. Jake groans, his hips thrusting instinctively into your touch. Your eyes flash to his and you see him biting his lip as he watches you intently, his green eyes dark with desire. You feel powerful like this, seeing the hunger there. 

You pull his erection from the denim keeping him confined. He's hard and thick, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. You can't resist running your hand over the smooth, velvety skin, stroking him gently. Jake's breath hitches, his eyes fluttering shut as you continue to stroke him. He keeps a hand steady on your back, ensuring your balance, but lets the other reach down between your legs. His touch brushes against your own as he goes, stroking through the liquid heat he finds. You moan softly as his fingers find their way inside you, matching the rhythm of your hand on him. His thumb swipes across your sensitive clit, sending a jolt of need through you. You gasp, your other hand pulling at the back of his head, drawing him closer. 

"Jake, please," you beg, arching into his touch. He pulls his hand away from you just long enough to position himself at your entrance. He drags his cock through your wetness, coating himself. He's hard and ready, and you can't wait any longer. "Please." 

He doesn't need any further encouragement as he slowly enters you, stretching you open in the best way. You cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as you feel him deep inside you. 

"God, you feel so good," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin. Like you want to prove to him that you can be even better, you lift yourself off of him slowly, sinking back down as he moans. "That's my girl." 

His muscles tense under your touch, urging you on, and you oblige without hesitation. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as you set a steady rhythm. Your thighs burn deliciously from the exertion, but you don’t mind, leaning forward to capture his lips. It's a frenzied tangle of tongues and teeth, while his hips buck upward into yours. The feel of him inside you is exhilarating, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Your hands twine in his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can look into his eyes. They're lust-filled and dark, mirroring the emotions swirling within you. 

"Harder," you pant. 

"Fuck, baby," he growls as he speeds up his pace. He thrusts into you harder, each hit sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you press closer to him. He hits that spot inside of you that only he can reach and the stars that dot your vision aren't from the sky above you. 

"Yes, oh, fuck. Jake!" He finds it again and your muscles clench. "I'm going to come," you gasp, and Jake's answering groan lets you know that he's close, too. 

"Come for me, darlin'," he chants, his voice low and raspy, commanding you to give in to the feeling. 

His words send you over the edge, and your scream of his name is cut off with his mouth surging to meet yours - you had nearly forgotten that you were outside. Your orgasm ripples through you, your body trembling under the waves of pleasure. You feel him give one, two, three more thrusts before he’s falling over, too. His cum is hot as it fills you and you can’t help but moan into his kiss at the sensation - there was nothing quite like it.

He pulls back once breathing becomes an issue. You're both panting and breathless. He takes your face in his hands, the roughness of his fingertips a long-formed comfort. You just stare for a few moments, letting your heart rates settle. 

"Hell of a way to end the year," he finally murmurs, voice filled with warm affection. 

You can't pass up the opportunity he's given you considering the current circumstances, raising an eyebrow playfully. "With your cum inside of me?" 

He huffs out a laugh, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you nonetheless. “The best way to do it.” 

You hum in response and grab his wrist, twisting it to get a look at his watch. 11:52. 

"If we hurry we can probably make it back to the Hard Deck in time for midnight," you tell him, though you're in no rush to move. Jake shrugs a shoulder, and it's enough to tell you that he isn't, either. You smile at him softly, leaning forward for another kiss. After another minute or two, you gently disentangle yourself from each other. Jake tucks himself back into his pants as you pull your skirt down. The raised wooden structure is really not comfortable for either of you now that you weren't completely caught up in your lust. He climbs down from the chair first and keeps a protective hand on you as you make your way down after him. 

Instead of moving to walk back to the bar, though, you settle together in the sand. Your back is to his chest and his arms are wrapped firmly around you. His chin is tucked into your shoulder and you watch the waves gently lapping in the ocean as you sit in a peaceful, comforting silence. 

“Any resolutions this year?” he eventually asks. You feel his breath against your neck and goosebumps erupt over your skin. You hope you never stop reacting to him this way. 

“Hmmm. None yet. You?”

“Already did it,” he says nonchalantly. Your eyebrows furrow and your twist your neck to look at him. 

“What?”

His smirk grows and his green eyes twinkle with mischief. “Guarantee myself on the naughty list for Santa next year, obviously.” 

You smack his arm right as the fireworks start going off, and his laughter is masked by the sound. There are bursts of every color you could imagine appearing in the sky, and you let yourself get distracted by the display until your husband nudges you gently. 

When your eyes meet his this time, the look on his face is softer. It’s a look he only ever has for you, full of love and adoration, and despite how long you’ve been together, you feel butterflies erupt in your tummy as it washes over you. He tilts your chin up with a gentle hand. It’s the sweetest kiss you had exchanged all night, nothing more than a light brush of his lips against yours. Your nose brushes against his as, for a moment, you just breathe the other in. 

“Happy New Year, darlin’,” Jake finally whispers, and his words taste sweet against your lips. 

“Happy New Year, Jake.” 

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Notes: Happy (almost) New Year everyone! Finishing off the trifecta of holiday fics with The Blonde One™️ just felt right. Thanks for reading! Likes/comments/reblogs are the kindest.

Special thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all of their help as always, and for Mak for making the dreamiest banners.

Main Masterlist

[bradshawsvinyl]

Begin Again Part Two

As a first grade teacher, you couldn’t help but fall for your sweet student and her very attractive Navy fighter pilot father.

Part One. Part Three.

Bradley could not believe his ears. He was pretty sure if he looked into a mirror his face would be tomato red. He had never felt more humbled in his life.

“I’m not sure where she got that from,” Bradley awkwardly laughed. “You know how kids are. They get confused sometimes. Right Tara?”

“But Daddy,” Tara started. “You told Aunt Phoenix that my teacher was…”

“Well,” Bradley said while looking at you. “We have to um get going. See you tomorrow Ms. Y/L/N.” He practically dragged Tara out of your classroom.

You politely smiled and waved. “Bye Tara! Bye Mr. Bradshaw!” You said.

Bradley and Tara leaving meant you finally had some time to yourself. You wondered if Tara was telling the truth. Bradley was right. You did know how kids are. Maybe Tara overheard Bradley’s conversation and got confused. That had to be why she said that.

The next day on base, Bradley practically ran to Phoenix. “What do I do? Phoenix please help me,” He begged.

Phoenix began walking towards the on base locker rooms. “Bradshaw, what the hell is up with you?”

Bradley made quick steps to keep up with Phoenix. “Yesterday, when I went to pick up Tara, she walked up to her teacher and told her that I think she’s pretty,” he said with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Yikes Rooster,” Phoenix replied. “I don’t even think I can help you get out of that one.” She said before bursting into laughter.

“Phoenix please. What should I say to her today? Should I just ignore her or what? You’re the girl here, you have to have something I can do.” Bradley said, voice laced with desperation.

“Look Bradley,” Phoenix said seriously. “Just be honest with her. Tell her that what Tara said is true and that you meant no harm by it. I don’t know what else to say.”

Bradley sighed, said goodbye to Phoenix, and did the walk of shame to his Ford Bronco. It was time to pick up Tara again. It was time to see you again.

At school, Tara was the last person to be picked up again. You led her inside of your classroom and patiently waited for her father to arrive. At four o clock, he knocked on your door.

“Daddy,” Tara yelled while running to Bradley.

“Hi sweetie!” He said while giving her a hug. “Hi Ms Y/L/N.” He said with a polite wave in your direction.

“Hi Mr. Bradshaw.” You said politely. “Before you go, I just wanted to remind you that drop off is at 3 o'clock.”

“Crap,” he said while letting go of Tara. “Sorry. I’m a single dad and sometimes it’s hard to transport Tara from place to place. I fly planes for the Navy so my schedule isn’t very lenient.”

“It’s okay Mr. Bradshaw.” You said while smiling at him. “I have no problem keeping Tara after school for a few hours if it would help you.”

“That would mean a lot as long as it’s not an inconvenience to you.” He said. Bradley couldn’t believe you had offered to watch Tara for him. Finding someone he trusted to watch Tara while he was at work could be hard. Not only were you nice to look at, you were also just nice. “You can just call me Bradley by the way.”

“I’m Y/N then,” you said while holding your hand out for him to shake. “I’m happy to help you. I know it’s only the third day of school but Tara is one of my best students so far.” You said with a wide smile in Tara’s direction.

“Thank you so much.” He smiled while grabbing Tara’s backpack and jacket. “Oh.” He said while turning around to face you again. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes before quickly opening them again. “About what Tara said yesterday,” he started. “I did say you were attractive in confidence to my friend. She must have overheard and I’m really sorry if this makes things awkward now, but I just wanted you to know the truth,” he rambled on, “But um yeah I apologize.” He said while running his fingers through his hair again.

“All is forgotten,” you said. “And for the record, you’re not too bad yourself.” You said, slightly blushing.

Bradley grinned. He couldn’t believe his ears. “I should probably give you my number,” he said while pulling out his phone. “You know since you’re going to be staying with Tara for a while after school.”

“Right.” You said taking his phone and typing in your number. “I’ll see you tomorrow Tara.” You waved. “Bye Bradley!”

When you checked your phone after getting home and showering you saw a message from an unknown number.

Hey, it's Bradley. I can’t wait to see more of you. And thanks again for helping with Tara.

You put your phone down and smiled. Then you thought of what to say to Bradley.

Happy to help! See you tomorrow.

You couldn’t wait to see more of Bradley either.

Authors note: I love writing these characters! Please let me know if you want part three. Happy Reading!

-Willow 🩷

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 8 - Salt and The Sea

📜Everyone has been on a Bob kick lately (I think), so this is coming right when it should! Let's see how Grace and Bob feel about all this. Shall we? 👀

‼️ - +18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Original Female Character (s), Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Bob Floyd x Original Female Character (This is all in their perspective), Third Person Pov for this one, Angst, mentions of bullying, hurt, overheard fights, preventing a panic attack, frustration, and Grace being sad and done with Bullshit. 

#4.6k

Part 7 | Masterlist | Part 9

Present Day

Sixteen hours.

That's how long Bob's carefully guarded, carefully constructed walls took to crumble after all these years.

There was an inkling the night before as he settled into his tent, a feeling that knocked once or twice from the inside of his chest. It wasn't there when he woke up this morning or during the trek here to the falls.

But the second Grace raced up behind him, everyone watching Veronica climb out of the water, that feeling returned. It seemed no longer content to sit around and wait for Bob to figure out why it had.

Grace grasped his hand, pulling herself to hide behind his body so she could stifle her giggles into the back of his shoulder. Bob couldn't help the few snorts that shook through his body either. However, he pitied Javy, watching as he tried to console his girlfriend, who was stomping her foot like a three-year-old child over the fact that her makeup had been ruined.

The both of them couldn't say it wasn't an unwelcome sight. They knew what Maeve had done, catching her hooking something onto the loop of Veronica's jeans, knowing it was damn well meant for Jake. Though the pair knew better than to act on it, they imagined themselves holding up a fist to the air, like in the Breakfast Club, silently praising the act of Karma on her behalf.

Maybe even quietly counting tallies next to her name in Bob's traveller's journal.

Maeve needed a win. A big win against one of those two. They weren't going to say shit about it. They only wished, deep down, they could have helped.

But when Bradley had taken her by the arm, leading her way, another knock, this time harder, thumped in his chest. Another followed it. And another, until that feeling morphed into what Bob could only describe as a white-hot pain, burning every nerve in the pit of his stomach.

Bob knew what was about to happen.

While there hadn't been much to discuss, Bradley had pulled all the guys together after Maeve went to bed last night to discuss his proposal. Standing in that circle, Bob realized it had been more of a pep talk than anything else.

Everyone already had a predetermined role—some part to play in helping Nat get to the right spot. Bob and Grace merely had to act surprised, with the rest of the group save Jake, Maeve, and Rueben, when they eventually emerged from the bush, a shiny new ring hopefully on her finger.

It was a horrible plan, he had thought then. He knew—more so than most—that involving Jake and Maeve in such an event would only result in disaster. He even had said as much to Grace when he turned in for the night, climbing into their shared tent.

Grace merely highlighted Nat's inconsiderate behaviour regarding her feelings, turning her back to him as she settled into her sleeping bag. The action was so absolute, so final, they said nothing else about it the rest of the night.

But laying awake, staring at Grace's back, Bob couldn't help but think about it. Grace was right. With all the shit Jake and Maeve threw at each other since the moment they had met, Nat would have to be completely stupid not to realize just how fucked up it was not to tell Maeve Jake would be coming on this trip.

It wasn't the first time Grace brought it up, either. Bob knew how his girlfriend felt about Nat, Maeve, the entire group, their inability to stand up for her, and their failure to separate themselves from Nat.

He'd be lying if he hadn't felt the same at one point or another.

But Bob knew why everyone didn't, why he didn't, and why, even to some extent, Jake didn't either, even if he was more verbal about it than anyone else.

From behind the scenes, everyone tried to protect Maeve and themselves from a fallout with Natasha. Not the fallout itself but the aftermath. At that point, he had rolled on his back, trying to figure it all out from the safety and privacy of his tent.

But who was he kidding? There was nothing to figure out.

Nat's scandal was an anvil, and her history and behaviour were hanging over every person in the group by a single thread. Even in the years since it happened, since they had all left school and Grace and Cora joined the group, it still had everyone in a chokehold.

And Maeve was oblivious to it all.

Bob wasn't sure when it happened, but it became an unspoken agreement to protect Maeve from that truth. So they were burying it to keep the peace—at least, everyone but Bradley. Bob couldn't say what was happening inside his friend's head, nor would he ask him.

But nobody would go out of their way to upset the group's 'supposed' hierarchy—not when real friendships and relationships, whether made with Nat's influence or not, were at stake.

Maeve had to deal with the brunt of it, and Bob would regret it every day for the rest of his life.

No kind words or assurances could help the cluster of nerves swimming in Bob's stomach when Grace hooked her arm through his. Leading him to a section of the pond free from tourists, she wanted to avoid the temper tantrum Javy and Rueben, to an extent, would have to deal with. Seeing fish in the water earlier and knowing Bob would get a kick out of trying to identify them, she welcomed the distraction.

But as the pair searched through their books to match the first fish they saw, the first shout vibrated through the air, and Bob felt like he was going to hurl.

There was no mistaking it for what it was. Nat was, for lack of a better word, shitting on Maeve and Jake. It was loud. It was scary. And no matter where anyone went, it was impossible to block out the noise.

They stood there, staring down at the words and diagrams in their books, no longer interested in the fish, scared any movement or action would have them on a chopping block. Though her eyes blurred, Grace was sure there were no more fish to look at anyway, for they, too, would have felt the noise vibrate against the water and would have been scared away.

At least they felt like they were able to.

When it finally fell silent, Grace nervously reached for Bob's hand. She led them away from the water through a tiny gap in the bush, deep into the forest. She didn't dare stop, walking blindly for minutes until she saw a little nook encased by a massive tree.

Its branches hung low, as did those of the surrounding trees. Each covered the space in a vibrant green shade, offering a safe place from the events leading up to this moment. A giant, thick tree root rested above the ground, and Grace pulled Bob down as she sat upon it.

Neither one spoke, nervous to say anything. Birds, the wind and bugs filled this space instead. It could have been hours, though Grace started to play with Bob's fingers only minutes later. He let her slide her fingertips over his skin and grasp around each finger until she smoothly threaded each together. Over and over, she did this, never once altering her pattern or rhythm.

Grace was trying to ground herself. And for Bob, it made everything that much worse.

It had been sixteen hours to the dot since that first knock in his chest. And while Bob had admitted last night and perhaps now that the trip, the excuses, the group dynamic, Nat's behaviour—was hopelessly warped—the truth was he had known for days, months, maybe even years.

He'd simply shoved it all deep down under lock and key, partly for selfish reasons. Sixteen hours was merely all the time it took for that lock to break and for everything to come rushing back to the surface. Because while the person he loved was hurting on behalf of someone else, it was too silent in this forest, even at this distance.

It was the lack of Maeve and Jake tearing each other apart.

"I think something happened to Jake and Maeve," Bob said in a rough voice, finally finding the courage to speak.

Grace's hands froze, not moving an inch. She lifted her head, eyebrows knitting together. Bob didn't meet her gaze, too nervous to look away from their joined hands.

"It's too quiet," he offered softly. "Especially after that."

Grace also dropped her eyes to their hands, biting the inside of her cheek hard. "She'd be tearing into him right now. Forget Nat. Maeve would clear out the whole damn park with a single shout."

Bob nodded absentmindedly, turning his hand to mock Grace's earlier pattern, a silent gesture to let her know he had been paying attention.

"Or she'd be running off to apologize to Nat, and Jake would be seeking us out, tail between his legs."

"Nat should be the one apologizing to her."

Grace's statement was so blunt and sharp that Bob feathered his jaw. And something in that quick movement made a thread in Grace's gentle heart snap.

She tore her hand from Bob's grip and shuffled away from him further down the log. She swallowed hard, refusing to turn back and look at him as she fiddled with a ring on her finger. When Bob went to follow, naturally reaching for her like it was second nature, she shuffled again.

"No," she mumbled lowly, shying away from his touch. Bob frowned, sliding closer once again, softly calling her name. But Grace only pushed herself up from the log, her fists balled and clenched tight. "No!"

She stomped forward a few steps, not wanting to leave the found safety of their little nook. Threading her fingers through her hair, she paced back and forth, trying to count her breath.

"Grace..."

She spun wildly, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing into a thin line, and her jaw clenching. "Don't 'Grace' me," she gritted out behind her teeth.

Bob dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand, his elbow digging hard into his knee. "Don't..."

"Don't what, exactly?" she seethed. "Don't talk about 'it'?

Bob dug his nails into the denim of his jeans - enough to feel a pinch through the fabric on his thigh.

The laugh Grace let out was bitter, morphing into a harsh shout. "Come on, Bob! Cora and I might have been the last ones to join whatever fucked up friend group this is, but Nat couldn't give two shits about Maeve! And it's this unspoken thing nobody talks about. Why?!"

"Grace..."

"Don't!" she snapped, stomping her foot, making clumps of dirt fly out in all directions. "I don't care about some fucked up unspoken agreement! I care about Maeve! Don't tell me you don't, Robert?!"

Bob finally lifted his head, though he focused on the way they came, not once meeting his girlfriend's angry stare.

"Bob, so help me... If you say no..."

"You know I do!" he rushed out, shaking his head.

"Then why don't you fucking say something?!" she cried out. "Why doesn't anyone say something?! She's suffering, and nobody does anything!"

She didn't even know she was crying hot, angry tears until she felt one fall off her cheek, a slight cool breeze marking a path on her skin.

"I wanted to. I wanted to, so badly, the first time I noticed it. And you told me not to."

Bob did, and he always wondered if Grace resented him for it.

She sighed, wiping the tears from her face. She paced back and forth a little bit, trying to calm herself down. Because Bob didn't deserve her anger, it was unfair of her to even yell at him in the first place.

Instead, she walked up to the tree, pressing her forehead into the bark, once again trying to count her inhales and exhales.

"When Bradley told me about Nat when he was going to school, I thought she was just a phase. Whenever he called to talk to Dad, I just sat back and wondered. I wondered how long it would take and what the reason behind the break between those two would be."

Grace lifted her head, fixing her eyes on a ladybug climbing the trunk. "You could imagine my surprise when he brought her home for spring break."

She placed her hand on the wood, twisting back to look at her boyfriend. "I never told you this, but I didn't like her the second I met her."

Bob lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Why..?"

"Because she thought I was a threat. That I harboured a crush on Bradley, and I would steal him from her," she shrugged.

Bob's eyes shot up his skull. "... I mean, you two grew up together... did you... ever?"

Grace audibly gagged, adding a few choking noises for a dramatic effect. "He's like my brother, Bob. What the hell?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I had to ask."

Grace didn't address the remark when she continued, "She treated me horribly that entire week. She sweet-talked my dad and only was nice to me when he was around. Thank God he saw right through her. The second he left, he said that Carole, Bradley's mom, wouldn't have approved. I agreed."

With a narrowed forehead, Bob's mouth gaped open, bobbing like a fish. "Wait... then why did she..."

"Why did she suddenly start inviting me to stuff? It's cause I was dating you. I was no longer a threat. And she acted like she had never done what she did in the first place."

While Bob might have met Grace through work, he was surprised to learn she had grown up with Bradley. How she acted around Bradley bore no resemblance to a long-lasting, familiar childhood friendship. However, the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense—her closed-off and quiet nature when she was around them.

That the first time they saw each other again, all Bradley could manage was a slight nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Grace only offered causally, "You'd be surprised at all the stuff that doesn't require your input. Sometimes you gotta leave people to do the lame shit they do and watch them fuck it up on their own."

A ball formed in her throat. "But Maeve... when I met Maeve and saw what was happening, my heart broke. And she is the only exception to what I just said."

Bob knew what was coming next. Like a coward, he braced himself hard.

"You told me not to say anything when I first brought it up. But now? I can't keep doing it. Not after what she just did to them. Not after that."

"Grace... Don't..."

"Maeve is drowning, Bob! Drowning!" she shouted angrily, startling a nearby bird on a branch. "And I can't stand it any longer. We need to find her, grab her, and take her home. Take her away from all this. From Nat, from those two bitches... God, if they gaslight anything else, they could practically set the whole fucking forest on fire."

"You don't believe in swearing, Grace," he deadpanned.

"Maybe I do now!" she cried. "I feel guilty. Guilty Bob! Cause I bit my lip like a good girl when Nat just what? Uses her? Ignores her? Disregard her feelings? Like hell, why didn't she try harder to figure the fuck out why Jake and Meave are at each other's throats?! Or how those two bully the fuck out of her?"

"Maeve wouldn't tell us about Jake when we asked."

"And you don't find it strange she wouldn't?" she challenged him. "Out of everyone in the group, she didn't tell a soul. Why? Why didn't she? Why wouldn't she?!"

Grace's heart was hurting, and she knew Bob truly knew why. He had been around them longer than she had, so there must have been a reason he told her not to. There had to be.

"At first, I thought it was something everyone accepted, you know? That everyone was trying to figure out what had happened between her and Jake. I thought tensions were high because of that."

She blew out a shaky breath, Bob not once interrupting her.

"Maybe it was a fucking game they were playing with each other until they finally worked up the courage to admit they like each other enough to get into each other's pants. Cause whatever the cause, Maeve wouldn't be so goddamn hurt if she didn't care!"

Bob closed his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping his mouth.

"But last to join the group, right? You have to be quiet. Read the room. Get a sense of how to act and what you can say. Cause learning to fit in with new people, you have to pick up these things. The best way to get along with everyone else. Like how Maeve runs the second Jake walks into the room? How she avoids conversations about him if she can help it?"

Grace blew a raspberry out of pure frustration. "Jake was never the real issue, though. Everyone just made it out to be. Everyone should have noticed how Maeve bit her tongue as Nat walked over her opinions. How Nat derails conversations, not just where Maeve is concerned, but practically with everyone to make it about her."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "She got the brunt of all of it, and we just... watched."

Grace finally approached Bob, standing before him, though he didn't lift his head from where it hung low on his shoulders. Had he chosen to look up, he would have noticed how the sun finally peeked through the leaves, beams of light breaking the shade, leaving Grace in their spotlight.

"I meant, she invites us all on this trip so we can watch her get proposed to? And she doesn't bother to tell her that Jake is coming along, too? I mean... how selfish can she get?!"

"Grace, this isn't going to solve..."

"WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!" she yelled, throwing her hands at the sky. "That ship left the fucking dock ages ago."

Bob's eyes fixed on a leaf stuck under a fallen branch at her words. Grace knew from that reaction alone that she had resonated with something within his kind, caring soul.

"I just... can't... I can't anymore, Bob. If I'm the first to take the leap and break up this group, then good fucking riddance. It needs to be done so we all can get some peace."

She slid to her knees in the dirt in front of him, her hands resting firmly on the sides of his thighs.

"How many years have Nat and Maeve known each other, and not once did Nat realize how hard her supposed best friend had been falling? How could she not recognize that, Bob? And how could she continue to force Jake and Maeve together when Maeve just wanted to escape?"

She reached forward to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet hers. While silent rage resonated within them, Bob knew it wasn't meant for him.

"Why did you tell me to be quiet that first time I brought this up? Why do you still tell me, too?"

Bob gulped, forcing his eyes away. Grace stroked her thumb under his eye, encouraging him on. "I don't know what happened, baby, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and rainbows when we return to the group. Not this time. Just tell me, please."

Bob blew out a shakey breath and shook his head. "Because I wanted you to stay."

"Stay?"

He had contemplated all the reasons, stacking them up brick by brick last night, refusing to acknowledge the leverage Natasha could have used against him. But Bob had damned himself with that one word.

Stay—He wanted Grace to stay. Because if he brought this up, if he told her, there was a chance she wouldn't—at least, there was a possibility.

He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes.

Nat's so-called leverage was kneeling in front of him, begging him to tell her the truth. Her eyes were desperate, so much so that Bob knew he was possibly damned if he did and undoubtedly damned if he did not. Grace had chosen her path, and he would steadfastly follow her wherever she decided to go.

There was no ever questioning that.

Bob reached for her sides, pulling Grace close between his spread legs. She let him, hands landing softly on his biceps before they slid down to his forearms. Bob traded his grip on her jacket to hold her hands, only to trace the same pattern she had a few minutes before.

He braced himself and took several sharp breaths before asking, "Did anyone ever tell you about Natasha's so-called scandal? Back in school?"

Grace cocked an eyebrow. "Only what Maeve's told me. Bradley and I weren't on speaking terms, and he'd never tell Dad if she had one. Though, Maeve didn't even know the complete story."

She let Bob turn her hand over and trace the lines on the palm of her hand. "But she shut me down hard after that. Saying Nat worked to put it behind her and move on, so we all should, too."

Bob scoffed. "Always protecting her."

"Bob?"

Bob hesitated, his gaze flickering away from Grace's expectant eyes. He swallowed hard, the reluctance clear in his tight jaw. Then he closed his eyes, leaning over to whisper in her ear, his voice cautious but a whisper.

Grace's eyes widened, and a gasp slipped through her parted lips at his words. She could hardly breathe as he told her the story. And when he was finished, she tilted so far back on her heels in shock that she almost fell onto her butt.

"Bob! What the hell? After everything I just told you?!"

Bob still hadn't opened his eyes, his head hung low in shame.

"I would have never left you over that! Over complete and utter bullshit? Who do you think I'd believe more? Her or my boyfriend?"

"I didn't know. I didn't want to risk losing you."

"You listen here, Bob Floyd," Grace urged, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her. "I'm in a relationship with you. I love you. I would have never believed her if she had done that to us."

He kissed the inside of Grace's wrist, a deep weight lifting off his chest.

"God, I want to throttle her."

"I think that's why everyone doesn't call her out. Cause they don't want it to happen to them. Or at least, deep down, I never did 'cause I didn't want Maeve or Bradley to be alone with..."

Grace nodded, letting Bob know he did not need to continue explaining.

"We should try to find her, Bob. Let her know we love her and that we'd follow her. I have no idea if anyone else would besides Mickey and Cora. Hell, I'd even offer to leave with her and get drunk on her Aunt's apple cider 'cause this whole damn trip was a bad idea."

Bob huffed a sad laugh. "It is apple picking season. I bet she'd love it if we went with her."

Grace snorted. "You just want free apples so I can make my apple crisp."

With the tension from before gone and the weight of Bob's chest finally disappearing with his confession, he joked comedically, "Ssshh, don't jinx it."

Grace rolled her eyes, letting the moment pass before offering quietly, "Where do you think she is? Maeve?"

Bob regarded her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Considering the lack of voices, Maeve's probably tried to separate herself. Or she made a rash decision and decided to leave alone."

Grace gasped. "What about Jake?"

"Jake ... I bet 50 bucks Jake ran after her regardless."

Her face contorted into one of disgust. "What? Why? Can he not leave her alone for once in his life?"

Bob stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, before extending a hand to Grace. She took it without another word and allowed him to guide her up and off the tree. He revealed yet another truth as he helped her step over the massive root.

"Remember when I went with Bradley and Jake before Maeve hurt her wrist? Jake wanted to show us a fishing spot...?"

Grace winced. When Bob told her what happened, she instantly regretted not being out there with her. Hold up in her tent, she had been working on plans for a museum exhibit. Even if she had to do a little work, she could have at least done it in the company of a friend.

"I found out Bradley's been trying to coach Jake into mending things with Maeve. We might have been giving him some... advice."

Grace froze with her two feet atop the curved piece of wood.

"What!!?" she shrieked, making Bob wince. "Please tell me you weren't the one who encouraged him to keep up the prank thing. Bob, if you told him to scream 'there's a Bear..'."

"It wasn't me! Nor was it Bradley! We just told him to try to talk to her without anyone around. Cause things seem to go to shit when everyone else is there. He just needed to incite her to stay. Make her laugh. Talk to her like a human being!"

"Men," she scoffed, jumping down off the root. "Never go to a group of idiots to do a woman's job."

Bob froze, eyeing her carefully. "Are you calling me an idiot?"

Grace smiled, reaching up to stroke across his cheek. She kissed his lips with a quick peck and leaned back. "Hmm... my idiot, though."

She took several steps back towards the falls when she called out over her shoulder to a befuddled Bob. "You realize if we locked them in a room or trapped them in an elevator, with nobody else around, they'd probably figure it out?"

"How so?" he called back, finally following her.

"Jake obviously wants to fix it. Maeve runs. All you need to do is stop her from running. She'll give in if you provoke her enough, which Jake already does. "

Bob paused, reflecting for a moment. "He doesn't think when it comes to her, does he?"

"Does she?"

When they emerged from the bush, Bob and Grace ran to the first person they saw, hoping at least someone saw either Maeve or Jake. Nobody had. Not until a few minutes later did a couple mention seeing someone bearing her resemblance climbing the waterfall. They also mentioned seeing someone who looked like Nat go up, but she had already come back down.

Grace stared at them in horror. "I'll go get Mickey and Cora," she rushed out quickly, leaving Bob alone to start the trek up the rocky slope. As he did, a million thoughts crossed his mind.

Finding Maeve and Jake tearing each other apart, hoping Mickey and Cora's skills weren't needed. Or the more stupidly optimistic thought - either was trying to find a few moments of peace.

As if.

Or perhaps it was none of those things. Maybe what awaited him above was something far worse than he could ever fathom.

But when he reached the top of the falls, neither Maeve nor Jake were there, and Bob didn't spare the effort to take in the view. Instead, he searched the ground, kneeling when he spied several tracks in the mud.

Two sets, both inherently female, were marked along the river bank in the mud. Bob's eyes followed them until he saw a separate path of them walking back. Then he noticed another pair of tracks, the boot tread clearly belonging to a man. They followed one of the other tracks, veering quickly off into the bushes. They were noticeably disturbed, leaves and branches bent unnaturally, and the longer he followed the underbrush and mud, the more he understood what happened. 

Bob set off, knowing just exactly where he needed to go.

Can I just say I love Bob and Grace?

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[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. 

[topgun-imagines]

Day 9: Pins And Needles

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bradley isn’t taking too well to the aftermath of his recent accident. What happens when he takes it out on your children?

Warnings: Plane crashes, paralysis, hospitals, outbursts, injury, mentions of wheelchairs, panic attacks, mental breakdown, children, & brief mention of anger issues.

Word count: 1.6k

The joy and laughter that once filled your home was no longer there. Instead, the hallways were filled with a horrifying silence. A silence that grew and grew until it affected even your children. Once little balls of joy were now quiet most of the time. You hardly ever heard your little girl's laughter anymore, nor did you see your son very often anymore. The teenager had locked himself in his room and had refused to come out unless it was absolutely necessary. On top of all of that, you didn’t get to hear the sound of your husband playing piano.

Just over two months ago, your husband had been in an accident that had rendered him paralyzed from the waist down. Needless to say, the past nine weeks had been hell. Bradley was currently on a leave of absence from work and a part of you thought that he would never go back. However, he strongly disagreed. Bradley was working harder than ever to, as he put it, ‘fix himself’. You kept reminding him that it was okay for him to not be okay right away, that his body needed time to heal. But that all seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

He kept pushing himself, refusing to even consider the possibility of leaving the hospital. Instead, he chose to stay, spending as much time as possible in physical therapy. No matter how many times the team assured him that he could take his time getting better, he kept pushing himself harder and harder.

While you supported your husband through any hardship and with any decision he made, he hadn’t seen your children since the accident. They were really starting to miss their father. Nicky refused to come with you when you went to visit Bradley and despite your pleading, Bradley refused to let your daughter see him. You tried to stay strong for her, but you couldn’t help but let that break you inside.

However, today was the day that you were taking your children to see their father. You knew that it was against his wishes but you really didn’t care. Your children needed their dad. So, after much persuasion, you convince your son to come out of his room and come with you to the hospital. Your daughter couldn't help but feel giddy knowing that she was going to see her daddy. Your son, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit affected.

With the three of you packed into Bradley’s Bronco, you made the short drive to the military hospital. Your daughter was practically bouncing off the walls. A smile couldn’t help but blossom on your face at the sight of your little girl so happy. You were sure that Bradley would be elated to see his family. Sure, you understood that he needed his space, but it had been over two months since the kids had seen their father. They needed to know that he was okay.

As much as you would like to take credit for this brilliant idea, it wasn’t entirely yours. Jake had helped you plan the whole thing, making sure that Bradley would be a physio when you arrived that way the kids could surprise him. Your husband's wingman had been a large help during the whole ordeal. He had been there to help both Bradley and yourself, making sure that your husband was still somewhat taking care of himself even with how hard he was pushing and helping you manage the kids without your other half. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you would have done without him. The only times your son had left the house in the past two months was when Jake would take him on drives.

Of course, the rest of the Daggers had been a huge help, but Jake was the one that you could call in the middle of the night when you were having a breakdown and trust that he would be there for you within minutes. He was the one who stopped you from collapsing when Maverick first gave you the news of your husband's accident.

Before you knew it, you were pulling up to the building. Jake had agreed to meet you outside, and as promised, you found him leaning up against one of the back walls. For the first time in nearly a month, you saw your son smile. His face lit up at the sight of Jake. That alone was enough to bring you to tears. When you stepped out of the car, your daughter had already launched herself into Jake’s arms. You let out a watery chuckle at the sight. With a sad, understanding smile, Jake led you inside the building and to Bradley’s room.

For the next few minutes, the kids insisted on playing eye-spy with Jake. You chewed anxiously on your fingernail. What would happen if Bradley didn’t actually want all of you here? At the sound of your husband's voice coming from down the hallway, you knew that it was too late. Your husband sounded agitated. Instantly, there was a dark look on Jake’s face. Nerves surged through you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jake’s hold on your little girl tighten.

And then the door opened, revealing your husband in his wheelchair with a pissed-off look on his face. Your eyebrow pinched, not expecting to see him so upset. However, he froze at the sight of you and your children. “What are you doing here?” There was no hi, no excitement, nothing. The least you expected was a warm greeting. Not a cold, calculating stare that left you wondering why you ever came in the first place.

Jake’s face hardened even further. Your daughter, however, didn’t seem to pick up on the tension between the adults in the room. “Daddy!” She jumped down from Jake’s arms and ran toward her father. When her arms wrapped around him, careful of his remaining injuries, he didn’t even hug her back. Your son remained next to Jake, sensing the anger radiating off of his father.

“What are they doing here, Seresin?” With those six simple words, your stomach dropped. Your own husband wasn’t even going to address you. Or your children. Your daughter whispered for her father again, confused as to why he wouldn’t even look at her. Bradley avoided eye contact with everyone, jaw clenching. He only looked back at Jake after many moments of silence. “Answer the damn question.” You could see the tears well in your daughter's eyes from where you were standing.

With a small step forward, you tried to get through to your husband. “Bradley-” But he interrupted you before you could finish.

“Leave please.” Your son, who had remained glued to Jake’s side since his father rolled in, scoffed. With one glance at the young boy, Jake knew that was his way of keeping himself from breaking down. In that moment, Jake didn’t care what kind of promise he made to Bradley. You and your kids needed him more.

He stepped closer to your pissed-off husband, almost as if he was shielding Nicky from his father. “Bradshaw,” The blond pilot hissed. “Your kids wanted to see you.” He gestured down to your daughter who, at some point, had begun clinging to Jake’s leg. The tears now leaked down her face steadily and she sniffled against Jake’s jeans. The look in Jake’s eyes was one that you had never seen before. There was something about this situation that you were missing. And then it all came rushing back.

A few days ago, Jake came over during one of your breakdowns. It was then that he told you about Bradley’s outburst during physio. Your husband had become so upset over the fact that he couldn’t just do it that he had exploded on the kind nurse and Jake. According to Jake, that wasn’t the first time and by the looks of it, it wouldn’t have been the last. For the first time since you stepped foot into the room, Bradley looked into your eyes. They were bloodshot but that wasn't even what you noticed first. The first thing you noticed was the look of anger that was directed at you.

“Get out,” His tone left no room for argument. From beside you, you could see Jake wrap a protective arm around your son. Your baby girl sobbed as Jake hoisted her up and carried her out of the room. Not without glaring at your husband one more time. Now, it was only you and Bradley in the small room. Just like your daughter, you had tears in your eyes. However, you were trying as hard as you could to keep them at bay. His next words cut to the bone. “I don’t want you here.”

With a single nod, you left the room. Jake was outside waiting for you with a pained expression on his face. A shiver ran through you and your daughter cried harder when her father slammed the door on the four of you. Collapsing into Jake’s arms, the aviator held both you and your little girl as you cried. Even your son sniffled. Jake was quick to pull him into the hug, acting like more of a father in that moment than Bradley had in the past nine weeks.

a/n: thank you for reading! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @kellyls04

[ash5monster01]

Hey lovely writer,

just stumbled across your rooster fic. Are you up for a request concerning Bradley Bradshaw or Jake Seresin and a fem reader or oc. Some sick/hurt reader fic and protective boys?

Lot's of love 💗

Overprotective

Pairing: Rooster x Hangman x FemReader (platonic, romance can be implied)

Warnings: mentions on injury, angst, worry

Summary: Rooster and Hangman never get along, not even for your sake. Didn’t matter they were both your best friend, they didn’t agree on being friends with each other. That is until you get hurt. (I couldn’t decide on just one of the boys so here’s a short little blurb where they are both worried for your safety)

Masterlist

Rooster and Hangman didn’t agree on many things. Most of the time they butt heads, made snarky remarks at the other, and competed until they were bone tired. The only thing they did agree on was you. Having known Rooster from childhood, and being best friends with Hangman through flight school, you found you loved them both equally. It just sucked that they couldn’t learn to love each other as well, for you.

Instead they’d compete over who was closer, Rooster always pulling the known you longer card, and Hangman pulling the being a better pilot than him to back it. You didn’t mind, your friendships with each were very different. You were still young with Rooster, him knowing every version of you. With Hangman it was more lighthearted, like old college pals you drank too much with. You didn’t need them to be close because they both understood versions of you the other didn’t. The only thing about their relationships with you being the same is how much they cared for you.

So during flight practice, when your plane malfunctioned, they were officially a team. The only person who can be on your side when you’re watching a plane with your friend plummet to the ground, is the person who cares for them just like you do. Rooster and Hangman had no jabs to shoot at each other while they rushed to get information. You had pulled your chute, but not without hitting your leg on the canopy on your way out.

“Shit Y/N” Rooster cursed as they rushed across the runway where paramedics were setting you in a stretcher. Your leg was visibly broken, probably a few bruised ribs from the way you winced, and a scrape across the side of your face.

“Are you okay?” Hangman asked as they finally reached your side, the paramedics ready to take you away.

“Could be worse” you quipped, usual banter coming from you. “Told me I got a good scrape through the brow. Might be able to pull off one of those cool split eyebrow looks. Whaddaya think?”

“You could pull anything off” Rooster told you, forcing away tears now that you were okay and in his sight. If he lost you the same way he did his Dad, he didn’t think he’d ever recover.

“You might think different once it actually heals” you grinned but then winced as the stretcher moved. “You boys don’t go having a heart attack now”

“Easier said then done” Hangman said as he squeezed your hand and you chuckled as they finally lifted you into the ambulance.

“I’ll see you on the other side” you saluted as they shut the door on your two pilot best friends. Rooster and Hangman watched still on edge as they pulled out, ready to tend to your wounds.

By the time they reached the hospital you were already in surgery. They hadn’t shared any words as they sat and worried for your safety. At least they could breathe knowing you survived but you still had to heal and the idea of you hurt was worthy enough to be worried about.

“She’ll be okay” Rooster finally broke the silence and Hangman looked up at him from his hunched position in the waiting room.

“I know, she just gave me quite the scare” he didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable with his competition but he knew he felt the same way.

“Me too, and only Y/N could continue to make jokes as she’s being rushed to the hospital” Rooster said and Hangman chuckled.

“We’re real lucky to have her, probably drives her nuts that we can’t get along” Hangman told him, sitting upright from his hunched position.

“I think she secretly enjoys it” Rooster responded and Hangman laughed again.

“We should mess with her and pretend we’re best friends after this” Hangman suggested and Rooster smirked. Hangman didn’t have many idea she agreed with but he kind of liked this one.

“She’d probably think she had a brain injury” He said and Hangman for a moment thought he wouldn’t agree. “Let’s do it” the two boys laughed as they clapped hands in agreement.

“Man I can’t believe she deals with us” Hangman said as he shook his head and Rooster shrugged.

“Let’s just be glad she even likes us”

[thewulf]

My Whole Heart || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - Hi, I'm not sure if it's okay to drop an idea, but I'll try. it would be a Rooster one where you're a happy couple but recently you're feeling unwell but dont tell Bradley. ... Read Rest Here

A/N: This is just cute and sweet! As always thank you for the req anon!!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 2.1k +

You were up in the air training next to your boyfriend when you felt it. It felt like your heart started fluttering. It didn’t hurt but it didn’t feel right either. You felt short of breath as you asked to land using your stomach as an excuse for what your heart was doing.

Bradley ran over to your jet once you parked it in the Hanger, “You okay beautiful?” He asked brushing the loose hairs out of your face. Your normally perfect bun getting jostled by the helmet you had on.

You nodded quickly giving him a lopsided grin, “I think it’s just some bad Chinese we had last night.” You gripped your stomach in excuse trying to make it look semi-believable.

He frowned taking your shoulders guiding you towards the locker rooms, “Call if you need anything, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly feeling that flutter again, “Sure thing babe.” You kissed his cheek before scurrying off into the locker room.

Short of breath you clutched your chest breathing slow. What the fuck? It wasn’t a heart attack; you knew that much. It felt like a butterfly was buzzing instead of the steady rhythm you were so used to prior. Shakily you pulled your phone out calling your Doctor’s office outside of the base. You could go to medical on base, but you’d be grounded, and you couldn’t have that. Not now.

The office told you to come in immediately or head to the closest hospital. Must be bad. You groaned knowing you’d have to lie to your loving boyfriend. Just a little white lie you decided. After catching your breath, you walked out in your changed clothing. Bradley stood there with a concerned expression when the door swung open.

“Feeling any better?” He asked as your wrapped your arms around his abdomen.

You nodded in his chest not really caring if anybody walked by, just wanting to hold him for a second, “Much better, thank you.”

He kissed the top of your forehead, “Let’s get out of here my love.”

You smiled hesitantly before letting him go, “Yeah, I’ll meet you at your place? Need to run a few errands really quick. Mom’s birthday is next week, and I promised Sean I’d mail out her gift before it passes.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You were going to stop by the Doctor and then drop off the gift sitting in the back of your car.

He smiled, “Your brother is lucky he’s got you.”

You nodded in agreement, “He sure is.” He walked you to your car giving you a quick kiss bidding you farewell for a little bit. Your nerves only started to get to you once you pulled in.

“Atrial Fibrillation…” Your doctor went on explaining what it was and what triggered it. You listened taking mental notes. You were hooked up to an IV taking medicant that was knocking your heart rate back into rhythm. It apparently hadn’t been that bad because it only took about twenty minutes before you physically felt better.

“Can I still fly?” You asked, almost terrified for his answer.

He nodded, “I don’t see why not. I wouldn’t go pulling extreme G’s anymore, but you should be just fine. Just remember the triggers.” You nodded. He mentioned stress. That was kind of hard to avoid. You’d have to figure that one out.

You thanked him before heading out to drop off the package. How were you going to tell Bradley? He was going to lose his damn mind at this one. You’d just keep it quiet until you thought of something. Anything.

You snuggled into his side tightly that night making sure to reiterate how much you loved him, “Love you handsome man.” You kissed his chest before nuzzling him. Listening to the steady rhythm of his healthy heart as you drifted off.

“You feeling alright?” Bradley asked as the two of you exited the gym. Maverick had been in a particularly bad mood after the entire class failed to complete a maneuver. The weight room it was. You were taxed. And now you had to go up in the air again, one more round before you’d be free for the night.

“Mhmm.” You nodded not feeling great. Crap, what were all the triggers? Stress? Was exhaustion one of them? Just focus on your breathing, it’d be alright. Just fine.

“Baby.” He stopped you by placing his much larger body front of you. Gently he placed his hands on your shoulders, “You don’t look so good.” His eyes scoured your pale yet clammy face.

You tried shaking him off, but the lack of energy was making it difficult, “I’m fine B. Mav just kicked my ass is all.”

He didn’t let his hands go as his face fell. He knew you. Heart and soul. That happened after two very happy years of dating. He’d seen you zapped after a particularly hard work out and you’d never looked like this. Your face would go beat red, not ghostly white.

Your heart fluttered. Damn, there it was. It was an uneasy feeling. Like you couldn’t breathe deeply enough. Like air was just a bit harder to grasp.

“Babe.” He stopped you from moving again, “You’d tell me if you didn’t feel alright? I’m here to help you. You know that. Whatever it is.” He was starting to get nervous. Were you pregnant? You didn’t hate kids, but you didn’t want them either. Was it cancer? He’d help you through that. He just needed to know so he could help.

You knew Bradley wasn’t going to let you go unless you gave him something better than that. He knew you way better than that. If there was one thing that was true it was that Bradley Bradshaw was anything but stupid. He was quite intelligent and one of the most observant people you’d ever met.

It probably wasn’t too smart to go up in the air right now anyway. You weren’t feeling great. You were fatigued. Exhausted beyond your limit. You had to tell him. You couldn’t keep it from him any longer.

You sighed before diving into what you knew. He only nodded and frowned letting you know he was listening, he just wanted you to finish before he talked, “… I’m sorry for keeping it from you. I just, I was trying to figure it out.”

He dropped a hand from your shoulder quickly grabbing one of your hands, “Baby, that’s what I’m here for. To help you figure this out. I’m so fucking sorry if I didn’t make you feel like you could tell me. Please tell me these things. Anything. I want to hear anything you think. Anything you feel. I want to feel you. I love you.” He kissed your forehead after making sure the coast was clear.

You shook your head quickly, “Don’t you dare blame yourself B.” You squeezed his hand back, “It’s me. I’m so used to doing things on my own. I didn’t even realize. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

He nodded, “Talk to me going forward. I’m here for you.”

“I will. I promise.” You went in for a hug. A hug you desperately needed in that moment.

“I’m going to go talk to Mav. You wait by the car okay? If I’m not out in five give me a call baby, okay?” He raised an eyebrow waiting for your response.

“Sure. Yeah.” You agreed. Who cared? You’d be fine. You’d hold your place. It was an afternoon off.

Bradley was back in three, smiling from ear to ear, “Let’s go home and relax sweetheart, how does that sound?” He asked once the both of you were seated in his truck.

You nodded scooting closer to him on the bench seat, “Sounds perfect B.”

The two of you spent the afternoon rotating between snacking, sleeping, and giggling. Your absolute favorite way to spend time with the boy you got to love on. Your limbs intertwined as you watched some random season of Survivor. The two of you guessing if you’d be able to do the challenge of not. You promised you’d enter him in for a season since he was Mr. Confident over there.

He got serious after a commercial interrupted the gameplay the two of you were so focused on. Placing bets on your favorite players, “You know I’d rip my heart right in half and give it right to you if I could?” he asked looking down at you with all the love dripping right from his eyes. Your very own heart sped up at that look that you’d grown to adore over the years you’d been together. Each and every time he gave it to you it only felt more right. How lucky were you? To be in love with your best friend.

You nodded nuzzling your head into his chest, “I know. Trust me B, I know.” You kissed his chest never growing tired of the close physical contact he’d granted you so long ago. That was your love language, physical touch. Bradley knew it and let you have it, all of it. As uncomfortable as he was with it at first he’d grown to love the quick touches and soft caresses you’d always seem to give him. You’d broken down every last wall he so perfectly constructed after both his father and then mother died on him.

“You’re my whole heart Y/N.” He kissed the top of your head while running his spare hand down your spine. He relished in the goosebumps that erupted underneath the flimsy tank top you’d had on. Your eyes closed as you took a mental snapshot of the precious moment you shared between the love of your life. Special moments you cherished beyond belief.

You lifted your head from his chest to look back up into those big beautiful brown eyes, “And you are my whole heart too. Defective as it is.” You giggled already wanting to make light of the situation. It was treatable. You’d be fine. You were loved and cherished. You had the love of your life holding your hand walking the path with you. What more could you ask for?

He tisked, leaning down and kissing the tip of your nose, “I love your perfectly defective heart.”

You snorted shaking your head gently, “That’s an oxymoron Bradley.”

He rolled his eyes, “Who cares. You’re perfect the way you are sweetheart. I love you. Pease don’t ever hide something like that from me again though, I’m here for you every step of the way.” He leaned down giving you a sweet kiss on the lips not daring to take it any further in fear of kicking your heart into A Fib. You’d never hear the end of those jokes if he did though.

After he backed off you nodded in response, “I’m sorry. I just freaked out. It was so dumb.” You sighed embarrassed for your own actions. It sounded so stupid out loud.

“’S okay baby.” He lazily grinned squeezing you at the hip, “I get it. But you have to remember it’s not just you anymore. I’m here. For the good. The bad. The ugly. And your worst. All of it baby.”

Your smile could light up a thousand rooms that’s how good he made you feel, “I don’t deserve you Bradley Bradshaw.”

He shook his head wrapping both his arms around your middle pulling you as close as you could be to him, “Hardly sweetheart. You’re everything and more. All that I want and need. More than I could ever ask for. It’s you and me.” He kissed you once more letting your hands wander all over his body. As much as he wanted too he knew he couldn’t. Not until your heart was figured out. He refused to be the reason you were hurting.

Reluctantly, he pulled back admiring your stare. You too were deeply in love with the man. All the love seeped out of your eyes through those blown out pupils and deeply blushing cheeks. Bradley got every emotion to bubble right to the surface exposing you right down to your core.

You leaned your head to his chest listening to the steady rhythm of his chest. A sound you’d grown to find comfort in over the years, “I love you Bradley.”

“I love you too baby.” He kissed your head once more, “Now sleep. Doctors’ orders.”

You nodded letting the darkness take over, “If the doc ordered it, guess I have to.”

You fell asleep the soft vibrations of the gentle chuckle that left his body. No matter what state you were in you never ceased to amaze him. He couldn’t wait to take the next step with you. To make you his wife. That was next. Certainly soon.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged

[that-one-random-writer]

Take a night off and find your way into a new universe. ♡ ~ (That-one-random-writer)

Meet the Author

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Rowdy Romance [complete]

Summary: You are visiting with a friend and find yourself alone in the Hard Deck. You're both what he was expecting and not.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (requested)

City Of Love [complete]

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vouge magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

That's My Kind Of Night. {Completed}

Summary: Jake takes leave and goes back to Texas. His friend is now married with a woman. This woman's friend gets under his skin, and he loves it.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Smut

Chapter 4 Still Mature

Chasing you {completed}

Summary: Jake retires from the military honorably. He steps into a new roll, ready to settle down in his hometown of Texas. He is placed on your shift. Your current relationship is stable until the dust settles, revealing cracks in the foundation.

Warnings ⚠️ police work it gets gory. Also smut MDNI

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

Jump Scare. (Phoenix x fem reader) It's spicy

[krmy2386]

I Hate Love Songs

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

PLEASE DON’T STEAL!!!

Be kind🙏🏻

Word count: about 1,400 😅

I did a poll. He won. Here it is❤️! Based on the Kelsea Ballerini song.

I hate Shakespeare and Gosling and cakes with white frosting

Two names in a heart-shaped tattoo

Rooster loved love. He grew up admiring the stories he heard about his father and mother’s love story. He loved romance and grand gestures. Today he stood by his Godfather’s side as he finally married the woman he loved.

As watched Maverick and Penny’s first kiss, his eyes wandered to his own love sitting in the church next to a teary Phoenix. Poor Y/N was almost physically cringing at the large display of affection. Rooster had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

Rooster knew he and Y/N had very different ideas of showing affection. Rooster wanted to serenade her at the Hard Deck and show off that he found the love of his life. Y/N was far more comfortable with little acts of affection. Like cooking dinner together or holding hands in line at the grocery store. She knew that they were in love, and to her that was all that mattered.

Later that night, the entire team looked on from their table as the bride and groom finished up their first dance.

“They look so happy!” Phoenix gushed.

“Yeah. They’re like Romeo and Juliet brought to life, but with a better ending.” Joked Fanboy. The whole table laughed and agreed.

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Romeo and Juliet were idiots.” She said defiantly. Rooster just smirked to himself and thought, ‘Here we go.”

The entire table looked at her in shock.

“What do you mean?” Coyote asked, “They’re the most iconic love story!”

“I mean exactly what I said. They were idiots who put their entire families and friends through unnecessary pain, when literally all they had to do was talk to their families and they would’ve been fine.” Y/N explains.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you Doll, but their families hated each other. It was kind of a major plot point.” Said Hangman cocky as ever.

“Yes it was,” Y/N, full attention now on Hangman. “And if you read Act One when they meet at the Capulet’s party, Tybalt sees that Romeo and his friends are there, rushes off to attack them, and who stops them? Juliet’s dad. He actually mentions that Romeo is the least offensive of the Montagues and tells Tybalt to back off. If they had just talked to the Friar, then their friends, then family in that order, they would’ve been fine. Not dead.”

The entire table was silent. Hangman was speechless.

Rooster, trying not to laugh, interjected, “What she means is, Mav and Penny aren’t exactly like Romeo and Juliet. Now that we settled that, Y/N come dance with me.”

Bradley grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor before she could argue.

Y/N tried to look annoyed, but her facade dropped as soon as she saw Rooster’s adorable smile. He was so happy.

“Sorry if I offended your friends.” Y/N said completely sincere. She knew she could come off a bit much sometimes.

Rooster actually let out a laugh that time.

“Don’t be! Their faces were priceless!” He said almost proud of how confidently she defended her opinion.

Y/N shrugged, “I guess. I just feel like I sucked the happiness from the table. Like they were all on some ‘wedding day high’ and I killed their buzz.”

“You’re over reacting.” Bradley tried to assure her.

“Oh really?” She asked, “ Then why are they all staring and whispering?”

Rooster, tactful as ever, spun around to see that Y/N was right. The entire team was looking at them like they had two heads.

“They just,” he started then sighed, “they just don’t understand us.”

Y/N looked in to Bradley’s eyes and smiled.

“I know they don’t.” She said. “It’s hard for me to comprehend sometimes too.”

“What?” Rooster asked.

“Just how much I love you.” Y/N said smiling.

I hate pink hearts with glitter and Valentine's dinner

And roses just die in a week

We were drunk when we met so we don't know our anniversary, woops

“What are we doing here again?” Hangman asked.

Truthfully he wasn’t really listening earlier when Rooster offered Starbucks to whoever would go with him for an errand. He just heard the promise of decent coffee.

“I need to get a gift for Y/N. It’s important!” Rooster said, regretting ever asking for help.

Hangman snorted a laugh, “What’d you do? For get your anniversary or something?”

“Hard to forget when you don’t have one.” Rooster said bitterly.

“What?” Hangman asked, “Bradshaw I may not be the expert on relationships but I do know that everyone of them has a start date.”

Rooster sighed, he hated that Hangman was technically right. “We have a start date. The problem is we were both very drunk and we don’t technically remember it.”

Hangman couldn’t contain his laughter, “Finally something to prove you two don’t have a perfect relationship!”

His words caught Rooster by surprise. He thought everyone wrote them off. Even Phoenix asked him how serious they really were. She claimed that Y/N ‘didn’t act like she even liked him.’

“You really think that?” Asked Rooster.

“Well, yeah.” Hangman said as if it were obvious. “Look Bradshaw, based on what I’ve heard, you two may not act like your parents but y’all definitely act like mine. My dad wasn’t a real touchy-feely person and my mom most definitely is. They balanced each other. Like you and Y/N do.”

Rooster thought he was hallucinating. How was Hangman the one who understood them the best?

“Thanks Seresin. That means a lot.” Rooster said, genuinely.

“Don’t get used to it, Bradshaw.” Hangman jokingly replied, “Now, let’s find your girl a non-anniversary gift.”

I hate love songs

The old and the new

I hate love songs

But I love you

When Bradley suggested they pick a day and declare it their anniversary, Y/N was apprehensive.

She had no problem with the idea of an anniversary. She just didn’t think it was necessary to pick one at random. She knew that they would have one eventually. They two had spoken at length about getting married and their future together. So why randomly pick one instead of just waiting for the real one.

Once she saw how excited Bradley got at the idea of celebrating, she decided to try to embrace it and make it the best she could.

They stayed home, Y/N’s choice, and then went to bakery to pick out cupcakes before driving down to the beach for a late night picnic, Bradley’s choice.

What she wasn’t expecting was a fully set up cabana tent, candles and fairly lights. She should’ve known he’d do something a little extra.

The two sat together on the beach and ate their desserts.

“This is perfect!” Y/N said leaning on Rooster’s shoulder.

He just smiled. ‘Nailed it!’ He thought to himself.

“But,” Y/N started, causing massive confusion to cross Rooster’s face, “there are still gifts!”

Y/N handed Bradley a small box.

Bradley tore into it like a kid on Christmas.

He was stunned by what he saw.

“I thought I lost these!” He shouted, “You tricked me!”

Y/N busted out laughing.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry!”

They were Rooster’s, well technically Goose’s sunglasses. They were horribly scratched, and broke one day at training. Bradley was distraught. She had them sent off to a special repair shop to restore them.

“They should be back in all of their 1980s glory.” Y/N stated proudly.

Bradley slipped them on and grinned, “They’re perfect! Thank you!”

He leaned in and gave her a quick peck.

“Now your turn!” Bradley was so excited he almost threw Y/N her present.

Y/N carefully opened the box to reveal a locket that had the outline of a rose etched into it.

“You say not to get you flowers since they just die so I found a way to get you one that won’t.” Rooster explained.

“And if you open it,” Bradley reacher for the necklace, “There’s my favorite picture of us.”

It was from Maverick and Penny’s wedding. Fanboy and Payback were incredibly drunk and dared Rooster to kiss his own girlfriend. Ameilia happened to get a picture of it.

“I love it,” Y/N could feel the tears coming, “Put it on me?” She asked.

Rooster helped fasten the delegate necklace and place a kiss to her neck.

Y/N turned around and gently grabbed Rooster’s face. “I love you Bradley Bradshaw. More than anything.”

It was Bradley’s turn to get teary-eyed, “I love you to Y/N! More than you could ever imagine.”

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[beyondthesefourwalls]

Twin Fire Signs

Summary: When the majority of your squad intentionally leaves you drunk and alone at a bar, you resign yourself to finding your own way home and dealing with your wounded pride in peace. But then your phone rings, the name of the last person you expected to be calling you on a Friday night flashing on your screen. You know you shouldn’t answer, but too much tequila has never led to great decisions. 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: language, drinking

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—

You were drunk. 

There wasn’t really any denying it now, just like there was no denying that you were alone without any of the people you came here with. It took a complete lap of the bar and waiting outside of the bathrooms for an eyebrow raising amount of time for you to accept it, but it was an inevitable conclusion now: your team, your squad, had ditched you. By the looks they had exchanged in the ready room in the tower, you were sure the invitation had only been extended as a courtesy and that none of them had expected you to actually say yes. Which was fair, because up until this point, you hadn’t. But you decided to accept on a whim, high off the adrenaline from the phenomenal flying you had just done, mixed with a lapse in judgment and a previous night of feeling particularly lonely. You had been off-brand craving social interaction. Now, you were regretting it and remembering why you preferred being alone. They had bought you a few shots, and all it took was a quick trip to the bathroom for you to come back and all of them be just…gone.

You never should have let your guard down. 

There was a reason you had declined nearly every invitation from them to go out for drinks, and it wasn’t because of your desperate need to keep work separate from your private life. You knew the people on your squad were assholes, and you knew they didn’t like you all that much. You were the lone Lieutenant Junior Grade amongst a squad of Lieutenants. On top of that, the first woman of said rank to not only make it there, but be handed the trophy at the end of Top Gun. 

You were good. Very good. You knew it, and so did the rest of the squad you had been assigned to when, following your win, you were transferred from Corpus Christi and stationed at Top Gun permanently two months ago. You had come in and blown them all out of the water, and none of them particularly liked it. 

You should have known that something like this would happen tonight. 

You tried not to let it bother you as you plopped down on a barstool. The bartender, an older man tattooed from his bald head to the tips of his fingers, slid a glass of water in front of you with a roll of his eyes. You gave what you hoped was an appreciative thank you and hiccuped as you took your first sip. After downing half the glass and a handful of bar pretzels, you fumbled with your phone, looking through several rideshare apps to see which one would get you the cheapest and quickest ride home so you could sulk in private. 

You were debating if the extra ten bucks for a ride that would show up five minutes quicker was worth it when your screen switched over to an incoming call. Your eyes widened in shock at the name staring up at you. 

Lieutenant Seresin

Oh no. Oh no. 

It was almost 10pm on a Friday night and Hangman was calling you. And you were drunk. He hadn’t come out with you all tonight, but that wasn’t uncommon. If you were an outcast in one regard, he was an outcast in another. Your squad wanted little to do with you, but they worshiped him. But instead of humoring them, he spent the majority of his time with the special squadron he was also assigned to, who were spread out amongst other teams on base. 

You didn’t think that he'd said two words to you that weren’t criticism or a challenge since that day. So why the hell was he calling you now?

You considered not answering and letting the call go to voicemail. You stared at the name for so long weighing your options that the screen darkened as the vibrations stopped. You heaved out a sigh of relief, only to squeak in surprise when the phone started vibrating again. 

You tried to take a deep breath when you answered, a slightly high pitched “Hello?” being offered. You winced when it was quickly followed by a hiccup, and then another.

“Are you drunk?” 

Fuck.

“Um. Yes.” 

You winced at your answer. Being blunt was one of your many character flaws, but you probably could have tried to have a little more tact, considering who you were talking to. 

“Are you still at Lumpys?” 

“Yes,” you answered automatically, but your brows furrowed as your alcohol soaked brain processed his words. “Wait. How did you know that?” 

“Are you okay?” he asked, completely ignoring your question. The bar was so loud around you that you had a bit of trouble hearing him, but that last tequila shot must have done you in, because you could hear annoyance, certainly, but you thought maybe you heard concern, too. You took a gulp of your water to try and clear your mind, because there was no way. 

You must have taken too long to respond because he snapped out your name, your first name, and you almost gasped at the sound of it. You don’t think he’s ever actually said your name before; the deep timber of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. 

Oh no. 

Now was not the time for your thoughts to run away from you into that territory. 

“I’m drunk,” you said dumbly. 

You could practically feel the pause on the other end before he let out a sigh of your call sign that sounded almost angry. 

“Are you safe?” he asked, since you hadn’t directly answered his question on being okay. You took in your surroundings with a long glance, your normal ability to clock everything delayed. 

Lumpys wasn’t the nicest place. You had never even heard of it before tonight. It was dark and loud and smokey despite the laws prohibiting it in California. It definitely wasn’t a military bar, that was for sure. You wondered for the first time why the rest of the squad had chosen this spot when the Hard Deck was so close to base, as well as two or three other bars that were frequented by uniforms not of the biker variety. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat when you realized that maybe they had done that on purpose, because you were coming with them and they knew they wouldn’t stick around. From the end of the bar, the bartender glanced at the water in front of you to see if a refill was needed before rolling his eyes again and looking away as he cleaned glasses. 

“Well,” you drew out, pushing down the unwanted emotions suddenly hitting you. “I can’t decide if the bartender is a giant tattooed teddy bear or a gang enforcer. Could go either way, honestly.”

He cursed on the other end and you thought maybe you heard the sound of a vehicle starting. You weren’t really sure, thinking maybe the loudness of the bar was making you hear things, but then his next words affirmed it. 

“Don’t move. I’ll come get you.” 

Your eyes widened and you sat up straighter in the barstool you had been slumped over in. “Wait, what?” 

“I’m coming to get you.” 

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. I was about to get an Uber or something-” 

He said your first name again, and it set butterflies loose in your stomach that you tried desperately to catch and put back in the box they came from. His voice lowered into something gentle, a tone you hadn’t heard in weeks from the fellow aviator. “Just hang tight. I’ll be there in 20, maybe less.” 

You thought about arguing with him and insisting that that wasn’t necessary and you could make your way home just fine by yourself. Even if you were sober, you’d have been in charge of finding your own way home tonight. Quarterback had given you a ride from base after work, and you had assumed you’d be able to catch a ride back, too. But he was long gone with the rest of your squad. 

“I…okay,” you finally said, accepting your fate. 

He hung up without a goodbye, and you were sure if this was a regular phone call, you’d roll your eyes at how rude the gesture was. But all you could focus on at this point was the sound of your name in his voice and the fact that he was apparently coming to get you. 

You were fucked. 

You chugged your water, some of it spilling down your chin in the process. When you set the glass down it was with a little too much force right as the bartender walked by. You winced at the annoyed look he shot you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. He refilled your water with a glare and without a word, moving onto other customers before you could say anything else. You took another gulp of it with a grimace and then set your head in your hand, taking in a deep breath. 

Your team leader, Hangman, Jake, would be picking you up from the bar, because the rest of your squad had abandoned you after you had taken a few too many shots. 

The same one who you had more respect for than anyone else, who you’ve also maybe harbored a crush on since you came to Top Gun, and who had barely looked at you since you almost kissed four weeks ago.

Great. 

Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin was a legend in the small population of aviators in the US Navy. He was truly the 1% of the 1%. You tried to model a lot of your own career and techniques after him. It helped that you seemed to be similar on an instinctual level, and you had the same indifferent attitudes. Standoffish, as some would say. You both knew you were good, too good to be true in a lot of ways. You had earned the right to have the attitude. 

You had been thrilled to be assigned to the same squad as him. You were excited to learn as much as you could from him, to befriend him. And that’s what it had been, at first. The two of you flew together well, and it translated on the ground. He noticed the similarities too, and didn’t hesitate with sharing notes and advice with you. He was so passionate and intelligent about what he did, and that’s what drew you to him first. He knew what he was doing and wasn’t ashamed of it, and that had attracted you more than anything. His good looks certainly didn’t hurt, though. 

You had taken to spending time together between hops, and eventually, started talking about more than just flying. It turned out you had a lot in common outside of the Navy, too. He was so easy to talk to. But then almost a month ago, you had been alone in the rec room, talking about the previous night's Cowboys game, of all things, when he had suddenly stepped into your personal space. 

His eyes had been dark and intense, and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. The intoxicating combination of his cologne and the smell of jet fuel that you had started associating with him had been even more palpable that close together. You thought he was going to kiss you, to finally give into the tension you thought had been building, and you wanted him to. But then just as quickly as he stepped forward, he had pulled away, leaving you hanging and confused.

And you’ve been that way ever since.

After that moment, things had been different between you. He barely spared you a second glance when you were on the ground and criticized everything you did when you were in the cockpit. You had tried to speak with him, to understand what the fuck had happened, but Jake Seresin was just as good at evading on the ground as he was in the air. So you buried your feelings as deep as you could inside of yourself and tried to mark him off as just another asshole who wasn’t worth your time.

But damn if the alcohol and the way he said your name and sounded something like concerned didn’t have your heart racing and you questioning everything. 

A little over fifteen minutes and another glass of water later, a shiver ran through your body. You turned your head right as the door to the bar swung open, eyes meeting the unmistakable figure of the aviator occupying your mind. He wasn’t donning his usual khaki uniform or flight suit that you were used to seeing him in — snug jeans hugged his legs and a white shirt clung to his chest, and you realized it was the first time you’d seen him so casual. Your lips parted slightly as you watched him look around. He stood in the entrance, scanning the room with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes finally locked onto you.

You raised your hand in a pitiful, unneeded wave, and in the dimly lit bar, you swore you saw some of the tension leave his shoulders. He started making his way through the crowd to you immediately. You watched him with wary, cautious eyes. 

“You alright?” he asked. His demeanor remained stoic, but those intense green eyes that you had admired for so long seemed to hold a blend of concern and something else you couldn't quite decipher. From this close up, you could see the way they flicked up and down your body as if assessing for himself your current state. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, feeling flushed under his scrutiny. “I’m fine.”

He gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned to the bar. Without a word, he pulled out his wallet and slipped his credit card from the leather. Your eyes widened. 

“Wait, Hangman, no.” 

You scrambled for your wallet in your tiny small crossbody bag, but before you could get the zipper opened, your self-appointed savior waved you off and handed his card to the approaching bartender. You watched in defeat as the card was swiped and handed back and his signature scrawled on the receipt all in what looked like one smooth motion. Why had you not thought to pay your tab before he had shown up? You were never going to live this down. 

“Finish your water and we’ll go,” he told you as he slipped his wallet back into his back pocket. 

“It’s my third glass since you called me. If I finish it I can’t be held responsible for your upholstery.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as the words left your mouth. You rubbed at your temples with a groan, your face twisted into a disbelieving grimace. “Please tell me I didn’t just say that.”

To your surprise, Hangman let out a chuckle. Your eyes popped open in shock. His laughter was a rare occurrence in your presence these days, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered wildly at the sound. Damnit.

"You did," he replied with a faint smirk, his stoic demeanor cracking just a bit. You groaned, and the blonde laughed again before he glanced around the bar, his expression settling back into something more serious. “Are you ready?” 

You slid off the barstool, feeling slightly unbalanced on your feet. When you stumbled, he reached out to steady you. You sucked in a breath. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, the two of you just…stared. It was almost reminiscent of that day. But then a bottle broke from a few feet away, shattering the moment — whatever it was — right along with it. Hangman cleared his throat and dropped his hand back to his side. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.” You thought maybe you saw the faintest hint of red creeping up on his neck before he turned away, and your mind struggled to rationalize it. 

Once you were outside, the cool night air hit you, and it was a welcome relief. You breathed in deeply as you followed behind him to where his large black truck was parked. You knew from one of your conversations before that he had boughten it last year when he was stationed in California after only ever leasing vehicles before. It was a way for him to establish roots now that he was given the opportunity to settle in one place. 

The lights flashed as he unlocked it, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get in. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was really how your night was going. You chanced a glance at the man holding the door open and he raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what the hold up was. You could have laughed at the irony. It took you a second to realize that you had. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, and you felt the heat of embarrassment in your face. 

“Nothing,” you muttered, and you turned away before you could say or do anything else to make a fool out of yourself. 

The leather seats were comfortable when you clumsily climbed in, and the interior of the car was immaculate, crisp and clean just like you often thought he was. It didn’t surprise you a bit. Hangman settled into the driver's seat, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him as he started the engine. He handed you his phone to put your address in and as country music played quietly over the speakers, he put the truck in drive. 

You didn’t know what to say, and Hangman seemed content with the quiet. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove, the muscles in his arms flexing with every turn of the wheel. You couldn’t help but wonder what those arms would feel like around you, holding you against him. It was a dangerous thought, and you shook it off before it could take root.

You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the seat as you let the wind from the open windows cool your skin. The effects of the alcohol were slowly wearing off, leaving your mind clearer, but no less confused. Being in his presence like this was still throwing you for a loop. 

Why had he dropped everything and shown up for you tonight, after doing everything professionally possible to avoid you for the last month? Why had he ignored you to begin with? 

Why did you even care? 

Neither of you spoke the entire way, and all the questions in your head were like a stoking fire that was rapidly sparking by the time he turned into your apartment complex. Instead of dropping you off in front of your building, he pulled into one of the visitors spots and put the truck in park. He didn’t kill the engine, though, and you wondered if that meant something. 

For a moment, you both just sat there, staring straight ahead. You could feel the tension between you, slowly but surely simmering. You knew the smart thing to do would be to get out of the truck. Thank him for coming to get you and go inside, and then come Monday morning, go back to the same routine. You knew you were capable of it — you had mastered the art of indifference years ago.

“Think you’ll make it upstairs?” he asked, disrupting the silence. You frowned at his choice of words, feeling just the tiniest bit offended. You knew how it looked, being drunk and alone. But he was the one who took it upon himself to show up. He had no right to judge you. You couldn’t help the scoff you let out. 

“You didn’t have to come get me, you know. You didn’t have to call at all.” 

His eyes widened before they squeezed shut, and it was almost like he realized the tone of what he said. You shook your head with a sigh, suddenly so unbelievably tired. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you mumbled. You unbuckled your seatbelt and leant down to grab your purse from the floor. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Hangman’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist before you could open the door. You turned to look at him and found him staring at you intently, his green eyes dark and brooding.

“Wait,” he said, his voice urgent and rough. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you?” 

He said your name in such a way that you knew nothing would follow it, the blonde at a loss for words for once in his life. 

"How did you know where I was?" you blurted out, the words escaping before you could censor them. But the question had been plaguing you since he called, so you didn’t backtrack. You felt like you had a right to know. 

You could see the tension in his jaw before he spoke. “Quarterback.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Quarterback told you where I was?”

“Yes.”

“Did he call you, or….?”

Hangman let out a long sigh, tilting his head back to rest against the seat. “The squad was at the Hard Deck like they normally are, being obnoxious —” 

“Like they normally are?” you couldn’t help but interrupt. He cracked a half smile, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he dipped his chin in agreement. Your shared tolerance level for the other members of your squad was something you had discussed at length before. 

“Like they usually are. I asked them where you were, since you were the only one not there and I had heard you tell them yes earlier. He told me they left you at Lumpy’s. They thought it was funny.” 

You nodded slowly, processing the information. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting, just a little bit, that they went as far as going somewhere out of the ordinary just so they could leave you there and make you the punchline of a joke. You let your eyes close and sulked in the feeling for a brief moment. You didn’t need these people. You didn’t even particularly like them, outside of being in the air. But damn. You swallowed thickly and shook your head, as if to completely dislodge the feeling. You supposed them ditching you wasn’t necessarily surprising. You knew how they felt about you, just as they knew your opinions, too. What you were surprised about was that Hangman had bothered to ask about your whereabouts in the first place. It was almost like he cared. Almost.

“So why’d you come?” you asked, still trying to understand. “I could have gotten an Uber.” 

For a long moment, he just stared, and you looked right back. His expression was hard to decipher. The streetlights outside cast shifting patterns of light and shadow across his face, and you felt like he was seeing right through you. Still, he said nothing. The silence stretched on, tension growing thick in the air. You couldn’t stand it. 

You were about to ask him again, to demand an answer, when he finally spoke. His voice was low and measured, a hint of anger looping through the words, and you shivered at the tone of it. 

“They had no right to leave you there like that. I couldn’t — I had to know you were okay.” 

You stared at him, feeling something deep and aching stir inside you. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react.  Everything was suddenly so much more complicated than it had been before.

“Jake…” you whispered, and you don’t know if it was the way you used his first name over his callsign or if he was just finally ready to get it off of his chest, but it was like the single syllable finally cracked the floodgates open. 

“I was seeing somebody,” he said. You sucked in a deep breath at the words, a soft “oh” falling from your lips. He continued on before you could think to say anything else. “For a while. Almost a year. She’s exactly what I always pictured I wanted, you know? She travels a lot, but we were figuring it out. But we were serious.” 

A beat passed, and you cleared your throat in the silence of the truck. You almost felt awkward when you asked, “Were?” 

He nodded, clenching his jaw, before laughing in a way that sounded more self-deprecating than you had ever heard from him. “I’m a lot of things, darlin. But I’m not a cheater, physical or otherwise. It wouldn’t have been so easy for me to catch feelings for someone else if she and I were meant to be together. And the way I had started to feel…” 

He cut himself off with a shake of his head, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned ghostly white. You processed the words slowly, mulling over them over and over again as you tried to figure out the implications behind them. 

“About me?” you dared yourself to ask, your heart beating hard in your chest and damn near holding your breath after you did. 

He met your gaze head on, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “About you. I think I’ve been feeling this way for a while now, but it wasn’t until that day in the ready room that I realized I couldn’t keep denying it anymore. I care about you more than I should.”

The weight of his words was heavy, and you felt a flush start to creep up your neck. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the truck, leaving the two of you suspended in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting. You didn't know what to say, didn't even know exactly what you were feeling right now. You never thought he would feel the same way that you did, to the point where he had apparently broken up with a girlfriend you had no idea about. But then he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t acted. 

You had no idea what any of this meant. 

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him, but before you could get a word out, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You gasped against his mouth, but his lips were warm and firm and you couldn’t help the way you relaxed into it. It wasn’t more than a press of your lips together, neither of you moving to deepen it, but it left you dizzy like it was the most intense kiss of your life. 

When you pulled back, you were both breathing heavier, your foreheads pressed together. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with something that felt emotional. “I shouldn't have...not yet. But I had to know what it felt like.” 

You swallowed, focusing on one word.“Yet?” 

Hangman, Jake, nodded, and the silence stretched on for a long moment. You were still reeling from his kiss, the emotion, your own confusion over your feelings and what it all might mean. Then he sighed, loud and deep. From this close, you could smell the peppermint from the gum he always chewed on his breath. He pulled away so he could look into your eyes and cupped your cheek. The smile he gave you was tinged with sadness and longing, and the strangest mix of hope. You knew before he said anything that nothing would be happening tonight. 

“I’m not…I’m not ready yet,” he said softly. Even though you knew something of the sort was coming, there was a flash of disappointment. He must have read it on your face, because he was quick to try and reassure you. “It’s not you. It’s just…I just ended it with her. And I’m still confused as hell over what I feel for you. I think you both deserve more than me rushing into something without figuring that out. Please understand.” 

You nodded, even though you weren't entirely sure if you did. You wanted him, that much was clear. But you also didn't want to be someone's rebound. You wanted something real, something meaningful. And you were willing to wait for that. You just hoped he was too. 

“Okay," you whispered, taking a deep breath. "I understand.” 

He smiled at you again, a small, sad curve of his lips, before leaning in to press his forehead against yours. "Thank you," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips. "You're amazing, you know that?"

You wanted him to kiss you again. You ached for it, almost. But you knew if you closed the distance that you’d be going back on everything he had just asked for and the understanding you had promised him you had. So instead, you swallowed thickly and pulled away from him all together. He seemed to understand the distance you were creating and released another deep breath, clearing his throat. 

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "For coming to get me." 

He nodded, and the two of you fell into silence again. There was something in his eyes that made you think he wasn't done yet. "Can I walk you up to your door?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea. But at the same time, you didn't want this moment to end, either, even if it was just a few more minutes. "Sure," you finally said. 

The two of you got out of the truck and made your way up to your apartment, the silence between you heavy. He was walking so close that you could feel the body heat radiating from him, and you were starting to feel hot all over. When you reached your door, you turned to face him, unsure of what to say. You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared. 

"Thank you again," you said softly.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he let out a deep breath. "Of course,” he said, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Your skin tingled when he pulled away. “I'll see you Monday?" he asked, his voice uncertain. 

You nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you then." 

He stepped away, staring for just a moment longer before he whispered out a goodnight and turned and walked back down the hallway. You watched him go, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside of you. You didn't know what was going to happen between the two of you, but you thought maybe you were ready to find out. You turned to your door and pulled out your keys, taking a deep breath before unlocking it and stepping inside. 

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

Main Masterlist

Notes: More of The Blonde One™️needed to be added to my masterlist. I hope you enjoyed whatever this was lol. Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement!

Thanks to @roosterforme @mak-32 @thedroneranger for the help! And to Mak for the prettiest banner that finally gets to see the light of day😍

[fangirlvibez]

The Bradshaw son and Seresin daughter - introduction

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw x female!OC Madison Ella Hanscott, Son!OC Nicolas Peter Bradshaw, Jake Seresin x female!OC Quinn Kelsell, Daughter!OC Hazel Alexandra Seresin, Son!OC Benjamin Jacob Seresin

Warnings: in this chapter: mention of (teenage) pregnancy, pregnancy difficulties, Navy inaccuracy. (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: The 16 year old daughter of Jake Seresin gets pregnant. The dad: the 18 year old son of Bradley Bradshaw. How will the dads react to their kids becoming teen parents?

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

next part - masterlist

Introducing the families

✈️ Name: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

✈️ Birthday: June 27, 1984

✈️ Nationality: American

✈️ Gender: male

✈️ Profession: Naval Aviator

✈️ Husband to Madison Ella Hanscott

✈️ Father to Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

✈️ He and Madison met at the navy base in 2020, 1 year after the dagger mission.

✈️ Madison was there for a documentary about the Navy troughout the years, Bradley was one of the people Madison interviewed.

✈️ Bradley asked her out on the last day of shooting the documentary.

✈️ After 2 years of dating, the couple got married on July 10, 2022. 9 months later Nicolas Peter Bradshaw was born.

✈️ Bradley has a good bond with his son and is very found of the idea of his son becoming a naval aviator like he is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

📓 Name: Madison Ella Hanscott

📓 Birthday: March 5, 1991

📓 Nationality: American

📓 Gender: female

📓 Profession: writer and TV journalist

📓 Wife to Bradley Bradshaw

📓 Mother to Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

📓 She and Bradley met at the navy base in 2020, 1 year after the dagger mission when Madison was in charge of a documentary about the Navy.

📓 She is best friends with Quinn Kelsell.

📓 She is a very busy person and does a lot of overwork.

📓 Her and Bradley decided to buy Sparky for Nick when he was 16. It was around the time both her and Bradley were both very busy with their jobs and they didn’t want Nick to feel alone in his home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🏈 Name: Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

🏈 Birthday: April 9, 2023

🏈 Nationality: American

🏈 Gender: male

🏈 Profession: Naval academy student

🏈 Son to Bradley Bradshaw and Madison Ella Hanscott

🏈 Boyfriend to Hazel Alexandra Seresin

🏈 Nick used to play football in high school but stopped to focus on getting into the naval academy.

🏈 His best friend is his dog Sparky

🏈 His dads opinion is very important to him.

🏈 He is named after his grandad and his dads godfather.

🏈 He fell in love with Hazel when she came knocking on her door. She was wearing a sundress and crying about her first date standing her up. Nick was 17 and Hazel was 15. Nick took her out and slowly fell in love with his best friend.

🏈 Nobody knows they are together because they don’t want it to be weird between their parents if they ever break up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✈️ Name: Jake “Hangman” Seresin

✈️ Birthday: November 17, 1987

✈️ Nationality: American

✈️ Gender: male

✈️ Profession: Naval Aviator

✈️ Husband to Quinn Kelsell

✈️ Father to Hazel Alexandra Seresin and Benjamin Jacob Seresin

✈️ He and Quinn met at a Bradshaw party in 2021. With Jake being Bradley’s best friend and Quinn being Madisons best friend it was bound to happen for them to meet.

✈️ They dated for 3 years before getting married on December 27, 2024.

✈️ Jake comes from a big family and wanted to have a big family like his own.

✈️ He is very over protected of Hazel and Benjamin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🩺 Name: Quinn Kelsell

🩺 Birthday: January 24, 1992

🩺 Nationality: American

🩺 Gender: female

🩺 Profession: doctor

🩺 Wife to Jake Seresin

🩺 Mother to Hazel Alexandra Seresin and Benjamin Jacob Seresin

🩺 She and Jake met at a Bradshaw party in 2021.

🩺 Quinn comes from a small family but wanted to have a big one of her own.

🩺 She and Jake wanted to have more kids after Benjamin, but the doctors said it could be dangerous for Quinns body to have more. That’s when they decided to just having two kids.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

📚 Name: Hazel Alexandra Seresin

📚 Birthday: August 2, 2025

📚 Nationality: American

📚 Gender: female

📚 Profession: High School student

📚 Daughter to Jake Seresin and Quinn Kelsell

📚 Girlfriend to Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

📚 Sister to Benjamin Jacob Seresin

📚 Hazel isn’t sure yet about what she wants to do after high school so she focuses mostly on her studies.

📚 She fell in love with Nick a month after he took her out after her first date stood her up. Nick was playing with Sparky on the beach while she was reading on her towel.

📚 She cares about what people think of her and can get quite emotional at times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🛹 Name: Benjamin Jacob Seresin

🛹 Birthday: September 16, 2027

🛹 Nationality: American

🛹 Gender: male

🛹 Profession: High School student

🛹 Son to Jake Seresin and Quinn Kelsell

🛹 Younger brother to Hazel Alexandra Seresin

🛹 Benjamin loves skateboarding

🛹 He is close to his sister

🛹 When the Bradshaw family went on vacation or went away for the weekend, Benjamin was in charge if Sparky.

🛹 He wants to be a doctor like his mom.

🛹 Benjamin is named after his grandad and his own dad.

Taglist: @confusedpimp (let me know if you want to be tagged)

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 4: One Way Or Another

📜Midge... Don't....Don't... Ugh, never mind. She's going to do it anyway.

I had to split the chapter again! I didn't want to overwhelm the word count, so the banner I posted before will be used for the next one! Which will be posted within the next few days!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, description of injury (A bruised wrist), camping, and pranks.

#4.4k

Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

The first rays of sunlight shining through the canvas of your tent are what stir you awake the following morning.

It’s a struggle to open your eyes with the aftermath of how much you cried yourself to sleep last night. The skin under your eyes and your eyelids simply ache, and you want to sink yourself down into the ground, never to be seen nor heard from again.

However, each gentle breeze caressing the side of your tent and each chirp of a nearby bird is slowly coaxing you out of your sleep. It seems peaceful, serene even. Like all was right in the world.

Then the first sharp throb of your wrist pulsed up your arm, and you were dragged back to the harsh reality of what was this fucking mistake of a trip.

Right. The fall. Your wrist. The two she-devils.

Seresin.

You can’t help but cringe as you cradle your wrist to your chest, willing each aching pulse to fuck off and go away. There was no way you’d be able to paint today or tomorrow. Maybe even the rest of the week. The realization stung so sharply you wanted to cry - you'd miss out on all the prime spots, the best angles and outlooks, even the waterfall today, all because the fucking asshole decided to scream, “Look out, there’s a bear!”

If there were ever a time for you to swear at the universe for the cruel joke it was playing on you, taking away your only solace and leaving you with nothing but anger, frustration and one Jake Seresin to put up with, you'd find the tallest mountain in the park and scream, "Go to hell."

You opened your eyes to the thought, staring at the corner of the roof of your tent. While you might not be able to hold a paintbrush, there were other things you could do to pass the time.

Eagerly sitting up and sliding your legs out of your sleeping bag, you reached for your clothes and quickly got changed, hoping no one else was up. If you had any chance at getting back at Jake for your predicament, you couldn't be seen doing it.

It had to be a prank. Something classy and of the same calibre he started, but enough to drive home the fact two could play at this game. And that you wouldn't resort to his level by injuring him - not that you could.

To your surprise, when you finally opened your tent, hoping to take in the morning air, you were treated to the sight of the map in its clear plastic bag and the silver compass placed directly on top, sitting on the ground in front of you. You had forgotten them completely last night in your haste to escape the chaos and embarrassment, and for a moment, you stood there, wondering who had done such a thing.

It was a small act of kindness, one that quieted your anger towards Jake for a moment.

Your mind raced through every person who could have done such a thing - Nat with her concern from last night. Bob's quiet kindness, perhaps Grace or Cora, both of whom had shown moments of empathy and understanding. Even Maybe Mickey, or Javy or Rueben, to make up for their girlfriend's behaviour.

The thought that it might have been Jake briefly flickered through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. He sought out every opportunity to tease, provoke, and hurl insults at you when he could, and you felt stupid for even entertaining such a thought.

With a mixture of curiosity and gratitude, you made a mental note to find out who was responsible and thank them for the kind gesture.

Lifting your head, you took in a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling your lungs and the earthy scent of the woods filling your nose. Light filtered through the trees, and their leaves seemed to rustle with the breeze. Along with the birds, you could have sworn you heard a squirrel or chipmunk, too.

Something had to be wrong. The campsite was too quiet.

Unlike yesterday, when Jake woke everyone up with his crazy-ass antics, everyone was still content to be tucked safely into their sleeping bags. You looked around, half expecting to see him lurking about somewhere or about to stir up trouble.

While his tent had been left open, he was nowhere to be found.

The metaphorical light bulb went off above your head with the realization you had your chance to set up and cause some shit without ruining it for anyone else.

The smile that crossed your face at that thought alone could have rivalled even that of the Jokers.

Approaching the firepit, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind, you noticed Jake had already taken down the food cooler from the nearby tree. It sat next to the little stone monument, waiting for Bradley or Nat to start handing out everyone's food packs.

You checked over your shoulder once, then twice to see if the coast was clear, before kneeling down and carefully flipping open the lid. You searched each one until you came across Jake's and your own, pulling them out and placing them side by side.

The little bottle of sugar Jake had brought with him for his coffee was at the top of the bag. You smirked in glee, knowing Jake would have no idea you messed with his bag, given its easy position. The man was so anal about things, his hair, his outfits, he'd notice if it had somehow fallen to the bottom of his bag.

Then, you found what you wanted out of yours.

Your container of salt.

It was the only thing you could think of right now. Fuck with his coffee, or at least something that he could put into his coffee. It was cheap. It was harmless. Probably even childish. But considering he actively went out of his way yesterday to prevent you from having yours, this was fair game.

Grabbing a spare container from your bag, you quickly unscrewed the lid, pouring Jake's sugar out into the safety of the container before reaching for the salt. You worked as fast as you could with your injured hand, grimacing as you tried to prevent any grains from spilling over as you refilled Jake's bottle.

After pouring his sugar into your own bottle, you quickly tidied up, making sure there was no evidence of your impromptu switch. You stood up, wondering what else you could do with the time you had or if something as simple as that would be enough, at least for today.

But the sight of Jake's tent, left wide and open, was another opportunity you had to take advantage of... Right?

It wasn't like Jake to leave his tent open. It either meant he intended to come back right away, or he forgot he had even left it open. You looked to the trailhead, then to the general direction of the area the group had chosen as 'the bathroom.' Jake still hadn't made his grand appearance.

"You shouldn't,' the angel on your shoulder screamed.

"Do it," the devil on the other murmured.

Your feet carried you forward, and you hesitantly approached his tent as if you were about to be arrested for murder. Resting at the entrance was his fishing bag, and you kneeled, undoing the zipper just enough to peer inside.

There was a tackle box full of hooks, lures, and other small items—a couple of bobbers and sinkers, snap connectors and an extra fish gripper. There was a knife and even a roll of fishing line; you gave into the urge to pull them out the second you saw them.

The lack of his fishing rod indicated he had definitely gone off and found a body of water or pond to go and attempt to catch something. It made you anxious, knowing you were working on borrowed time. Without really thinking, you unsheathed the knife from its case, letting out a painful yelp, only to spin out some of the wire and cut a sizeable length of it against the ground.

What for? You had no idea. But you had time to think about that later. The possibilities of what you could do with something like a piece of wire out here in the wilderness were endless.

Your heart rate spiked when you heard voices coming from one of the tents, and you quickly tried to put everything back where you found it. You shoved the wire into your back pocket and accidentally popped open the tackle box as you jammed the knife back inside.

Your hand screamed at you, already pushed to its max, as you scrambled to carefully pick up the fallen hooks from within Jake's bag, already knowing you probably missed a couple. One caught on your bandage, and you didn't bother removing it as you snapped the lid shut and zipped up his bag.

Racing back to your tent, the zipper of Bob and Grace's tent was being pulled up. You skidded to a stop and kneeled next to the map, swearing softly to yourself as you grabbed the stowe-away hook and shoved it into the front pocket of your pants.

You could only hope Bob thought you were getting up and emerging from your tent for the first time this morning.

Bob stepped out, having seen nothing of your hasty retreat back to your tent, and offered you a soft "good morning' accompanied by a smile.

"Morning, Bob," you greeted him with a smile of your own, trying to calm your breathing. "Do you know who did this? I want to thank them."

Bob looked down to where you were pointing and shook his head. "Sorry, Maeve. I didn't see who. It was there when Grace and I went to bed last night, though."

Not Bob. Or Grace. Hmm.

With nothing else better to do, you offered to help Bob start the campfire while Grace got ready. You arranged the kindling and small logs as Bob gathered some of the bigger ones Bradley had cut the day before. It was a few minutes before the two of you got a decent-sized setup, and in that time, Grace had joined you two, promising to get to the coffee first so you'd have a cup before venturing out for the day. 

You always thought her name suited her - literally always a saving grace. 

You held up one of the sticks as you were breaking up a few to add to the pile, twirling it as you inspected the top. "This would make for a good Marshmellow stick."

Bob dropped the log he'd picked up into the pit before settling himself down next to you. He reached out and took the stick from your hand, playing with the top of it like you would messing around with the sharp edge of a knife.

"This one?" Bob said, examining the stick closely. "Nah, it's too flimsy. It'd catch fire before you got that perfect char." 

You quickly catch on to his meaning, and you gasped at him in horror. "Bobby, No.. that's just...a Marshmellow shouldn't be crunchy."

"I've always made them like that!" he exclaimed in protest.

"That is so wrong, so so wrong!" you cried out. Grace makes a gagging noise in agreement with you. "The burnt part is carcinogenic, Bob. Listen to Maeve," she tried to encourage him. 

"You can always take the burnt stuff off," he pouts. 

"That's not the point of a Marshmellow on a stick. You want them crispy, not fired to hell."

"Is that where you make yours?"

You turn your head towards him, shocked. Then, a bout of soft giggles racks your body as Bob starts to sport a grin. "Damn, you woke up snarky this morning."

"It's not my fault you two like eating fluffy clouds and chalk dust," he joked, knocking your shoulder playfully. You and Grace share a look and continue to giggle, shaking your heads.

It took a little bit for Bob and you to get the flames to catch. But eventually, after some poking, prodding and waving, the flames erupted and grew steadily, crackling happily.

You stood to high-five Bob, celebrating after your struggle. But just over Bob's shoulder, you see Jake walking down the path, fishing rod in hand, and it quiets you instantly. His gait was easy, and he appeared lost in his thoughts, watching each of the steps he took. He seemed tired, with bags under his eyes and his face weary.

You missed the way Grace and Bob shared a look at one another.

Once he reached the edge of the camp, Jake lifted his head, his eyes immediately meeting yours. You want to glance away, but you can't bring yourself to. There's a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you - curiosity, irritation, maybe something else you can't quite put your finger on.

Jake holds your gaze for all but two seconds before it's travelling down to the bandage on your wrist. He knits his brow, and a pained expression strikes his face. It's enough for you to instinctively tuck your arm behind your back and drop your chin to your chest in embarrassment.

Grace calls out that the coffee is ready, and you twist, reaching for the cup she's holding out to you. You grab it eagerly, offering a quiet 'thank you' and bringing it up to rest just before your nose, taking a deep breath.

The smell seems to calm you down but does nothing for the image of Jake's reaction to your wrist playing in your head.

Was that guilt you saw? Or lack of sleep? Did he lose sleep over it? Over what happened last night? He did try to call for you. But why? Why? The idea that Jake might actually feel remorse was unsettling, challenging even.

Despite yourself, you glanced back over your shoulder. Jake was already gone, off to greet Mickey good morning with a hug and slap on the back, and you felt ashamed for even having looked.

'No, it couldn't be,' you mused to yourself, 'Jake's not the type to feel guilty.'

You smiled into the rim of your coffee for a moment, thinking about what he might do or react when he tasted your salty surprise.

"What are you smiling about?"

You jumped as Mickey bumped your shoulder with his. "It's too quiet for the two of you this morning."

You shrugged, trying to suppress your grin. "Maybe he's feeling guilty for yesterday. I don't purposely start shit with him, Mickey. You know that."

Mickey didn't answer you. Rather, he reached for your hand, carefully lifting it up so he could inspect your wrist. "Can I take a look at it, Maeve? Please? I promise to be gentle."

You sighed. "I know, I did a shit job of wrapping it last night."

Mickey shook his head. "I only want to make sure there isn't any permanent damage."

You paused for a second before nodding. You let Mickey guide you over to his chair, allowing him to help you sit with a gentle hand on your elbow. He kneeled in front of you, placing your arm on your lap as he worked on undoing your bandage.

"How's the pain?" he asked as he started to unwrap it.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it did last night, though it's throbbing a bit."

"That's probably some swelling," he offered, not unkindly. Mickey made sure you kept your eyes on him as he unveiled the damage, hoping to provide you with some reassurance. You appreciated it, knowing you'd jump to conclusions before knowing how bad it truly was.

He had already unwrapped your arm when he lifted his head, about to ask you if you were ready to see the damage on your wrist, when his eyes tracked some movement behind you. The corner of his mouth wobbled, and he shook his head, immediately setting his back on to you. You went to look, hoping to change whatever caused him to frown when a quip from the other side of the campsite stopped you.

"Need someone to kiss your boo'-boos, Midge?"

Oh, that bitch!

Mickey stopped what he was doing in favour of placing a hand on your thigh, preventing you from leaping up out of your chair. You tense at the touch, and you are sure it's the only thing holding you back. But you wouldn't be you if you didn't offer some type of snarky reply in kind.

It was there, ready to be unleashed. That was until you heard Jake's voice boom from somewhere behind you, the man stepping forward as if he were on a mission.

"Oh, would you give it a fucking rest, Jessica? Unless you're a certified medic now," he points to Mickey, "I doubt your expertise extends to anything beyond Instagram filters and badly photoshopped pictures."

What. The. Fuck.

Your mouth drops. Your face flushes. And you can't help but stare up at Jake as he confronts them - On your behalf. There's even collective 'oohs' filling the camp, and Bradley's rapidly looking back and forth between you, Jake, and Jessica, wondering what the hell happened to warrant such a reaction.

It's the first time you've ever heard Jake speak to Jessica like that, let alone defend you. Are you not sure how you're supposed to feel about the response? Grateful? Happy? Appreciative? Angry he felt the need to defend you?

Why the hell did he defend you?

"She got hurt last night," he points out sharply. "So I don't understand what your point is in saying that. And honestly, it's just getting old and, frankly, pathetic."

Jessica's eyes widen and her face starts to turn red, her rounded cheeks almost looking like cherries. She jolted back, recoiling as if he had dealt her an invisible blow, and her gaze briefly darts to Rueben, then back to Jake.

Conflict is written all over her face.

"Come on, Jake, she didn't mean it like that?" Veronica counters, stepping forward to slide her arm under Jessica's in support.

And in a surprising turn of events, Jake starts to laugh. Mockingly.

To them.

"How does she mean it then?" he turns to Veronica, sarcasm laced into his tone. "What's the point? A Joke? Scarastic comment?"

Jake's face suddenly lights up, a look you are all too familiar with when going head-to-head against him. You cannot help but chant inside your head, Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

"Maybe throwing a peace sign up at the end of it as you do in your photos would have helped, but I can't say that's what I would have done when someone has been hurt."

You could swear your heart was beating out of your chest. This didn't make sense.

"Come on, Man, that's not right. Anyone who knows her should know she's not like that." It's Ruben, this time, standing up for his girlfriend, though you can detect a bit of nerves in his tone. 

And Jake sneers. Sneers! "Some shakey moral high ground, if you ask me."

"Dude..."

Jake shakes his head, grabbing Rueben by the elbow and pulling him close. He whispers something into his ear, and Rueben's eyes widen. It makes you grip the armrest tighter, maybe in some mediocre attempt to assure yourself you didn't fall down a hole instead of your tent last night and wake up in an alternate dimension.

"It's just badly bruised. Nothing's broken, and the tendon is fine. I would try to keep it wrapped, though."

Mickey prodded at your bruise, and you hissed from the pain, immediately drawing your eyes away from the interaction, finally taking in the damage done to your wrist.

It's ugly, to say the least. It's somewhat ironic that you are already comparing it to smudges on a painter's palette rather than something real and painful marking your own body.

The centre of the bruise was a deep, angry purple, the colour rich and dark, indicating just exactly where you hit the ground. Surrounding it was a halo of different shades of blue, varying in intensity. Some looked like deep twilight, while others were lighter, reminiscent of faded denim. And there was an edge of yellow-green, giving the false impressing it was beginning to heal, though it was very much a fresh injury.

The sight only confirms what you thought this morning. There was no chance you'd be painting at any point while on this trip.

"I'm going to get Cora to wrap it again to relieve some of the swelling. She'd have our asses if we don't let her do it."

You shutter. "Don't I know it."

As Mickey left to find Cora, you tried to figure out what happened. While everyone else had finally woke up and was venturing around the camp, Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found. Neither was Rueben, for that matter. Jake, however, was extending his Yeti mug towards Grace with a grateful nod, who was going around filling cups of coffee after having watched the spectacle.

You knew what was coming next. Sitting on his chair was his food bag, and Jake kneeled next to it, placing the mug on the ground to rummage through it. To your surprise, the sight fills you with guilt, and you battle the urge to tell him what you did.

After all, he didn't need to call out Jessica for what she said. But the angel and devil on your shoulder are vying for your attention, and you don't know which one you should listen to.

Be the better person, Maeve. Tell him not to drink it.

Sit back and watch the show, Midge. He deserves it.

Your internal conflict of should or shouldn't is decided for you when Jake finally grabs onto the tiny bottle and dumps a little bit into his coffee. You scrunch your face as he closes the lid and lifts the Tumblr to his lips to take his first sip.

His reaction was immediate, sputtering out his coffee with the grace of an angry camel, and his mug fell to the ground with a loud clank. He stands, racing off towards the bush, coughing and gagging as if he were about to bring up whatever was in his stomach.

You wouldn't be surprised if he did.

But where you thought you'd be rolling in laughter and enjoying his little misery, you're wincing instead. Both elated he was getting a small ounce of karma and mad he had to be anything but kind this morning.

"Why is Jake gagging and throwing up his breakfast over in the bush?" Cora asked as she kneeled down in the same spot Mickey had been.

"Not too sure. Maybe he mistook the salt for sugar instead," you answered her, holding out your wrist for her to wrap.

Cora had already picked up your bandage from where Mickey had placed it in the cup holder when she regarded you for a moment.

She shook her head. "Midge, you didn't."

You eyed her as she started to wrap your arm. "You can't tell me he didn't deserve it after this?" you say, lifting your arm as she securely tightens your bandage around your thumb.

Cora bites her lip in concentration for a second, careful to mind your hand as she pulls the bandage tight, allowing for relief but mindful of how much it hurts. You let out a soft cry as she pulled the material over the most painful part of your wrist.

"I suppose it's a harmless prank," she remarked once the worst of it was over.

"Be glad it didn't do more."

Cora lifted her head, though she didn't stop wrapping your hand. "Did you do more?"

You shook your head. "I'm not saying anything."

And you didn't want to, even if you did or didn't. Jake was alarmingly kind this morning, and anything you said or did in addition to this would make you that bitch in all of this. Cora would be the last person on earth to judge you for pulling shit like this, but that didn't mean the rest of the group would.

It seems your point is nearly proven, too, when Nat pulls you aside in the breakfast line, glaring at you like a mother extremely disappointed in her kid.

"Is that it?" she asked you firmly, jerking her head over towards Jake. "With him?"

She stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, and you only offered her a small, toothy grin. "You can't tell me he doesn't deserve a little karma for this," you say, holding up your wrist.

Nat eyed your hand, her face still hard. "You got hurt last night, Maeve. If the two of you keep this up, it's going to escalate, and things are going to get worse."

You shrugged. "It's just a harmless prank, Nat. You know I'm capable of doing much worse."

She does know, having been your accomplice back in school. The two of you were in charge of the student union's annual April Fool's trick for three years in a row. To this day, you're pretty sure some of those crickets were still alive and pissing Dr. Flynn off in his lecture hall.

There was a moment of silence as Nat weighed your words, prompting you to say, "He woke all of us up yesterday morning by banging a pan, he wanted us to lug the cooler up that hill, and he screamed bear, resulting in this," you hold up your arm. "Salt in his coffee? That's minuscule in comparison."

"Alright," she finally said, her voice firm. "But it stops there. We don't need the drama."

"Alright, Mom," you joked, grabbing a bowl of oatmeal. Satisfied with your answer, she let you go, guiding you back to your spot in the line. After collecting your bowl and while she was getting hers, you leaned over, resting your shoulder against hers.

"You got to admit, though, the look on his face was worth it alone."

Nat couldn't help it when she sputtered out a laugh at the memory, and you giggled softly as you swayed back to your tent with your food.

You wondered if something as simple as switching out sugar for salt would be enough to fuck up his day. Or if the guilt building in the pit of your stomach would stop any time soon. After all, Velma Kelly in Chicago was right.

He definitely had it coming. Anyone would have done the same.

...Right?

Careful, Maeve - Nat's not happy.. Not at all...

Taglist:

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Part 5 - I can't go on without you - is being edited!

~ Lucky ☘️

[spasmsofthought]

if love was a year, we were june (j.s. x reader) [1.5]

can be considered part 1.5 or a companion piece to you fell hard, I thought good riddance. but if you want to read it as a stand alone, i think you’ll be able to. maybe an official part two coming?!?! idk, i’m gonna need a fantastic song and all my imagination if it’s gonna happen. we’ll see. all my love xo 

warnings: not really edited. please excuse any mistakes, i wrote this on the fly

soundtrack: June by Chris Lanzon and Eluera 

Previous / Next

+++ 

Dear Jake, 

Hangman - - 

Jake: 

It’s 10:48 pm and I’m sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home from the bar. You said you’d be here by 8. 

I’m not sure how much more I can take. 

It’s been a week since I’ve seen you. You avoid me at work. You answer every fourth text with one or two words. 

Did I miss all the signs? 

I know that you’re not the biggest fan of my driving. You think I get distracted too easily (I can’t help it when you’re sitting next to me, but I’m trying, I promise), that I play the music too loud, and I know you say that I indicate that I’m turning too early, but I know that I’m a good driver. I slow down at yellow lights and I don’t really drive much over the speed limit. I always make sure you buckle your seatbelt before I press my foot on the gas. 

Now you don’t even want to be in the same apartment as me, let alone be in the same car as I drive it. 

I’ve heard so many people compare you to the sun, but you’ve always been like the ocean to me. Maybe not a burning star in the sky, but you are an intense force of nature all the same. 

Maybe I got you at just the right time, early in the morning during high tide. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to reach you in the beginning. 

It made me feel like the moon. 

Like maybe I was gravity, and I could pull you back. But I can feel you rolling away, receding from me, and I can’t pull you back even though I’ve tried. 

I’ve tried.

I’m realizing that I made the wrong assumption. 

I’m not your moon. I’m just the shore. 

Low tide is coming, fastly approaching I think. 

Probably already here and I just haven’t noticed. 

I thought we would make it longer than we did.

I’ve been to the beach many times. I’ve always enjoyed the way the water rolls over my toes before I dig my feet into the sand, knowing the waves would come again to wash it away. Push and pull, push and pull.

You’re pulling away, and there’s empty space where you once were, and I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to last. I can’t keep you here because I think, deep down, I can tell you’re ready to go. Maybe you were always ready. 

I know I can’t go with you any longer. I think I’ll end up drowning if I do. 

I’m weary if I’m being honest Jake. All I’ve been thinking about is where the hell you even are. It’s been its own kind of torture. Being with you has taken a lot out of me. 

I was so immersed, and your eyes were deep water, they pulled me in; you were beautiful. You took my breath away. 

But I think I should have gone up for air sooner. 

There are so many mixed metaphors in this letter, but I don’t think it matters much. I’m honestly not even sure if you’ll read this whole thing. You might throw it away without even glancing at the ink on this paper. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what happened.

I don’t think you’re coming back tonight. At least not until you know I’m gone. It’s a strange sort of kindness, I guess, that you’re letting me go without saying it to my face. 

But it still hurts, Jake. Your silence doesn’t make this easier for me, just for you. 

I realize that you’re not going to fight for me, for any of it. 

I know that I should hate you. 

I should hate you. 

I should hate you. 

I really want to, but I can’t. 

When I wipe the tears away and close my eyes, I see what could’ve been if you weren’t the ocean or if I had been your moon. If you had told me we were taking a dead-end street instead of driving down it with me smiling in the passenger seat. I think we might have been happy if you were different and if I had been maybe a little wiser. 

I should hate you, but I don’t.  

I love you. 

I hope I’ll change my mind. 

I’m going to leave this taped to the door when I walk out of your apartment in a few minutes. Don’t worry - my key is on the table. I returned all the shirts of yours that I borrowed. I grabbed my toothpaste out of the bathroom drawer. 

I’m going to lock the door and try to leave this all behind me. 

God knows that I was in your rearview mirror long ago. 

[entertainmentgirl80]

Texan & Georgian: Love Story (Jake "Hangman" Seresin X OC Reader) 👨💚🧑🏾🤠

Warning: Fluff, There Some Romance Tension Between The Characters, And Of Course Hangman Being Him.

It's a nice sunny day in San Diego, California. You were just moved here from Atlanta, Georgia, to start fresh. So while you are unpacking your stuff in your new apartment, you decide to call your mom to make sure you are straight and settle in after you move....

*Rings, rings*

"Hey Mama," you say hi, first.

"Hey baby girl, how are you?" She said hi back.

"I'm doing fine, just getting in and unpacking more stuff. What about you? How is the jewelry business and my doggy twin?" You ask her

"It's doing well, and your doggy twin is out on the patio enjoying the sunshine. So, what are your plans over California?"

"Probably go out, just sideseening and that all." You tell your plans to her.

"Alright, baby girl, but listen, I'm gonna let you go and do your thing, talk to you later, love you."

"Okay, love you more, bye bye." You hang up the phone.

Later on that evening, you already got dressed, and you is wearing one of your Shein graphic t-shirt dresses that you got on, you put on some little makeup, and you is wearing some of your gold bracelets and your rings on too as well with your bucket hat on, just to make sure you look decent while you going out. So after the Uber dropped you off at this bar called The Hard Deck, which is a casual bar/hangout place for the military & the navy.....

"Well, this is an interesting bar, so I'm guess it's wouldn't kill me to enjoy myself for a one drink and be around people." You said to yourself before you go in the bar. So after you went inside you saw different types of military people from men to women and there also regular people hanging out too as well, so as you walk towards to find you a seat and sit down, a tall good-looking but gorgeous man with blond hair & beautiful green eyes staring at you while you sitting down waiting for your drink to order by a beautiful brunette older woman by the name of Penny Benjamin. So you look around just to feel the vibe in the bar, and this man keep staring at you, and giving you a smile and a wink, but you turn back around and while your cheeks is blushing.....

"Here your soda, love, enjoy. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Penny gives you a warm smile.

"Okay, thank you, ma'am, I appreciate it." You thank her after she gives you your drink.

So, while you enjoy yourself while drinking your coca-cola and looking at your phone, what is going on, on your social media. The guy with the beautiful green emerald eyes with the toothpick in his mouth taps you on your shoulder and wanna introduce himself....

"Howdy there, pretty lady, how are you this evening?" He greets you in a Texan southern accent.

"Hi, I'm doing fine, how about you sir?" You smile at the handsome man.

"I'm good darlin', can't complain, so what got you looking cute this evening?" He ask you.

"That good, well you know just to get out for a minute, and I'm just move here, by the way."

"Oh well, that understandable sweets, so where you from if you don't mind asking?" He wanna know.

"I'm from Atlanta, Georgia, born & raised, what about you and also what your name by the way if I don't mind asking?" You tell him where you from.

"Texas, born & raised, and my name is Jake Seresin, but my callsign is Hangman." He tell you his name and his callsign.

"That what up, nice to meet you, Jake. But why is the name "Hangman" though? Is it because you like playing the game when you were a child or something?" You raise your eyebrow, just out of curiously.

"Well, it is because I'm have a reputation to hang people left to dry." He explains.

"Oh, well, okay, so do you still do that to people?" Asking curiously.

"No, after my last mission and help out my fellow teammates and being the team leader that I am, it's changed my perspective."

"That good, so what do you do for a living, though?"

"I'm in a navy, and also I'm a pilot, by the way." He has a grin on his face.

So, after hours & hours on having a conversation between the two of you, you felt more comfortable talking to him about everything, even though you just met him, and he is more comfortable, and understand where you coming from. But however, you never thought a gorgeously but handsome blond man with a cocky personality starting to develop feelings towards you after y'all met in this bar. But the feeling is mutual between you & him, the way y'all look each other's eyes, the way he put his hand on your wrist while y'all slow dance during a slow R&B song on a jukebox. It's like a fairytale came true that you found your prince charming and he found his future wife & soulmate, even though y'all two from different worlds regardless of your race, so after both of you pay both of y'all tabs, you ask Jake can he come home with him....

"Hey, it's getting late, and I know we just met, but can I crash to your place for tonight, if you don't mind at all?" You ask while you yawn.

"Of course, not at all, suga, and don't worry , I won't murder you." He has a smile on his features.

"Thank you, so you ready go?" You have a lazy smile on your face.

"Ready that I'm ever be darlin, let go home." He kisses you on your forehead, and y'all left to go back to his place for the night.

A/N: This is the prequel to part 2, this is how they first met for the first time. I hope y'all like it. Thank you for reading, sharing, and reposting for my last story 🙏🏾 🫶🏾🫶🏾😌