#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.

[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 🩷

[thewulf]

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

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

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

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 8,900+

Part 2 | Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it!” You giggled.

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

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

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

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

“You’re Admiral Kazansky’s daughter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good.” He smiled back to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I disagreed.” He retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pig.”

He shrugged, “You suggested it Lava.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?” You whispered, dumbfounded really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, it felt… claustrophobic in there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see about that Jake.”

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

-

Part 2

[topguncortez]

Are You With Me? | Chapter 4

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Y/N wakes up from the same reoccurring nightmare since Ella had been diagnosed. Some parts of what Jake did during the divorce come to light. Jake and Y/N cross a line.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: medical inaccuracies, nightmares, traumatic events, vomiting, divorce, fighting, cursing, childhood cancer, child character death (not graphic), smut, unprotected sex, mentions of cheating

“She’s not breathing,” A constant beeping sound filled the air as doctors and nurses came running into the small hospital room. Y/N was pushed out of the room, left to look at the action from behind a plate glass window. However, the doctors and nurses didn’t spring into action like she had seen them do when rushing into other childrens’ rooms. They stood there, watching as the child struggled to breath. 

“Do something to help her!” Y/N yelled, pounding her fists against the glass, but it was as if it fell on deaf ears. Doctors and nurses crowded the hospital bed as the small girl lay there unmoving. Tubes and wires covered her body as the obnoxious long tone filled the air.

“Do something! She’s dying!” Y/N yelled again trying to move her spot to get to the little girl, her feet were stuck where they were, “Help her!”

“Time of death,”

“No! My baby! No!”

“Nine thirty six.”

“No! Ella!”

Her body nearly collapsed to the floor, but strong arms wrapped around her, holding her up. She fought against the hard body, wanting to get to her daughter and hold her. The doctor pulled the white sheet over Ella’s head as Y/N continued to thrash in the strangers arms.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Y/N, you’re alright.”

“No! Let. Me. Go.”

“Y/N! Wake up!”

With a jolt, she sat up in bed. The cold grip of fear still around her heart, making it beat erratically. A thin layer of sweat covered her body, as her hair stuck to the back of her neck. It took a moment for her to get her bearings, finding herself in the same room she had laid down in, and her ex-husband sitting next to her on the bed. Jake had turned the lamp on, coating them in a warm orange glow. 

“Are you alright?” Jake asked, taking in the sight of his bewildered wife. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his chest, but he had earned an elbow to the face trying to attempt it earlier. 

Y/N nodded her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. Her throat felt dry, presumably from screaming in her sleep. She sucked in a couple of breaths, feeling her heart beat slow to a steady rhythm. She was no stranger to nightmares, especially after Ella got sick. The haunting sound of asystole alarms and the cries of grief stricken parents kept her awake at night. 

“What time is it?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“Two twenty.”

“And the kids?”

“Still asleep, but, Y/N…” Jake swallowed, “Have you thought about going to that support group Doctor Thomas suggested?”

Y/N scoffed, flinging back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, “No,” She stood up, walking towards the bathroom to get a drink of water, “Don’t need it.”

Jake stood up from the bed, walking over to the bathroom door, leaning against it. Y/N splashed some cool water on her face, before filling up the cup she kept by the sink. Jake couldn’t help but take in the sight of her pajamas; a white tank top and a pair of his old plaid boxer shorts. He could remember when she stole them from him when she was about seven months pregnant with Alex, “It might help you sleep better if you talk to someone.”

“Oh, like you did?” Y/N knew it was a low blow the moment the words left her mouth.

The divorce had been finalized for two years and Y/N always used Jake’s affair as a deflection tactic. When she didn’t want to talk about herself or anything that was bothering her, she always brought up the affair. Jake had learned to ignore it over the past couple of years.

“Look,” Jake ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair, “I know I messed up and didn’t do things right in the past, but I am now. The group is really helping me get through this.”

Y/N looked up at Jake in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t the first time he has brought up therapy. Hell, even Miles had suggested it once before but it was quickly brought down. Y/N didn’t want to sit in a circle with other parents of sick kids and listen as they tried to one up each other with who’s kid is the sickest.

Y/N grabbed a quick drink of water, before turning to face Jake, “Thanks for the suggestion, but I got this.” She patted his chest before walking back into the bedroom.

Jake shook his head as she climbed back in, pulling the blankets up to her chin and turning the light off, engulfing him in darkness. 

“Whatever, Y/N,” Jake pushed off of the door jam, leaving the room without another word and going back to the guest room he had been inhabiting. 

— — — 

Sleep did not come easy to Y/N after the nightmare. Hell, sleep hadn’t been coming easy to her for about six weeks since Ella got sick. She had created a strict schedule of being at the hospital when first rounds started at six am. But between the early wake-ups, the late nights making dinner and getting the kids to bed, nightmares waking her up, and now Eli’s newly developed sleep regression, Y/N was a walking zombie. 

“I don’t wanna be sick,” Ella cried as Y/N held the pink basin in front of her. 

“I know, baby,” Y/N cooed, as tears ran down Ella’s cheeks. It was the same battle every day about an hour after Ella left the chemo room. The nausea slowly creeped up in her little body until she threw up. Y/N hated when Alex would have the occasional sick day, and it was killing her seeing Ella getting sick every day like clockwork. 

“Mommy,” Ella whined as she dry heaved over the basin. 

“Just let it out,” Y/N rubbed her back, “Let it out, baby. You’ll feel better.” She grimaced as the scent of vomit filled the air, Ella’s small body nearly convulsing as she puked, “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, baby.” Y/N kept repeating sweet nothings to Ella as she emptied the very limited things in her small stomach. Her weight loss has become more evident by her protruding collarbones and ribs. Jake was almost scared to pick her up these days, worried that he’d break her. 

A knock sounded at the door, “Knock, knock,” The person said, “Is now a good time?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she sat the basin down in between Ella’s legs. It was never a good time for Doctor Thomas to barge into the room, but it wasn’t like she cared. What do you even say to a doctor when they ask ‘is now a good time?’ “No, come back later when I’m dying”? 

“Yes,” Y/N answered, but Doctor Thomas was already halfway into the room. Y/N grabbed a cool rag, putting it on Ella’s forehead and removing the emesis bucket, “How can we help you, Doctor Thomas?” 

“Just checking in,” She smiled that perfect smile that all doctors seemed to have. Pearly white, perfectly straight teeth. Doctor Thomas pulled up a chair, sitting at Ella’s bedside, “How are you, Ella?” 

The little girl pouted, “I threw up.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” She rubbed the back of Ella’s hand, “Today wasn’t a good treatment day?” 

“They didn’t even have sugar cookies,” Ella muttered. Y/N shook her head with a light laugh. Of course Ella was upset about the cookies. 

“You’re letting her have sweets?” Doctor Thomas asked, looking up at Y/N. 

“We’re monitoring her diet, but yes, we allow her to have something sweet to eat every once in a while. Miles said-” 

“Miles isn’t an oncologist,” Doctor Thomas said, tilting her head slightly and plastering that smile on her face. 

Doctor Nicole Thomas, oncologist, top of her class at Northwestern, top resident at the Mayo Clinic, one of the best oncologists on this side of the Missouri river, and total bitch to parents. April, the mother of Sammy, the little boy next door to Ella, shared her dislike for Doctor Thomas. She was blonde, had legs for days and breasts that seemed to be the perfect size and perky. The wives had all noticed their husbands wandering eyes when Doctor Thomas walked by. And to make matters even worse, Doctor Thomas knew Jake. . . personally. 

“If you have an issue with my daughter’s diet, please, Doctor Thomas, enlighten me,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. 

Doctor Thomas’s smile didn’t falter, “Things like cookies and sugary treats aren’t good for children with compromised immune systems. Over processed pre-packaged snacks or snacks full of butter and frosting. . . you want your child eating heart healthy snacks. I think Jake would agree.” 

The slip of her husband’s name from Doctor Thomas’s lips had Y/N seeing red, her arms falling down to her sides, “I know what is best for my child. You are pumping her full of toxins that are making her throw up and lose weight. If she wants a sugar cookie, I’m going to let her have a sugar cookie. At least she’s eating something. . .” She rolled her shoulders back as she mumbled, “And keep my husband’s name out of your mouth.” 

“Noted,” Doctor Thomas said, standing up from the chair. She looked down at Ella, “I hope you feel better, Ella. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Bye Doctor Thomas,” Ella waved to the blonde woman. 

Before she left the room, Doctor Thomas turned around, the condescending smile still on her face, “Have you looked into that support group? I think it would really, really do you some good, Y/N.” 

Y/N scoffed, marching towards the door to rip into Doctor Thomas, but she was gone by the time Y/N stepped out into the hallway, her chest heaving. Her eyes narrowed as another familiar blonde made his way down the hall, smiling and waving to the kids and their parents as they passed. Fire burned in Y/N’s veins as she stalked down the hall, determination written on her face. 

“Hey!” She yelled as she set in on Jake, “Tell your little side piece to keep her nose out of the way I raise my child.” 

“Side piece?” Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Doctor Thomas,” Y/N sneered, “Trying to tell me what's right for my child.” 

“Our child,” Jake corrected her, “And she’s probably right. She is a doctor after all.” 

Y/N scoffed, “Of course you would side with her.” 

“Unbelievable,” Jake shook his head. He looked around, noticing the eyes of the nurses, doctors, parents and techs on them as they squabled in the hallway. He grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her into an alcove by the nurses’ station, “You need to get yourself together. You’re causing a scene.” 

“Me? Get myself together?” Y/N’s eyebrows rose in shock, “You’re the one screwing our child’s doctor!” 

“I didn’t screw her!” Jake snapped. 

“No,” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head, “You’re just spending late nights having secret conversations and confiding in her behind my back.” 

“Do you blame me? It’s like talking to a brick wall with you,” The hurt settled into Y/N’s chest. She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if she could protect herself against Jake’s words. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, “Y/N. . . you need to talk to someone. You aren’t sleeping. You’re lashing out at people. Your mother called me in tears the other day because you yelled at her. This isn’t you.” 

“You don’t know what's me,” Y/N whispered, taking a step back from Ella, “I need to be with my daughter.” 

“Our daughter,” Jake corrected her again. Y/N just shook her head, walking out of the alcove and back to Ella’s room. 

— — — 

Three days had passed since Jake and Y/N’s fight in the hallway. They had been walking on eggshells around one another. Y/N had started keeping some clothes and showering in Ella’s hospital room to avoid going home when Jake was there. Jake started placing a plate of food in the microwave for when Y/N would come home from the hospital before he went to be with Ella for the night. It had all seemed to work just fine, until it came crashing down. 

Y/N was running late to switch Jake off from his night shift with Ella so he could get to work. Eli had pitched a fit about wanting to put pants on for daycare, and Alex was taking his time with packing his backpack for school. She had barely managed to get out the door on time to get the boys to school before zooming to the hospital to drop off Eli and relieve Jake. 

Jake was pacing the lobby, waiting for his ex-wife to show up. It wasn’t like her to be late without texting or calling first. The worst came to his mind as he tried to keep his heart from pounding in his chest. 

“Fuck it,” He cursed, pulling his phone out ready to call her, when the elevator dinged. 

“I’m sorry!” Y/N breathed out, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called by Eli dumped his breakfast on his pants and Alex forget his glasses and we were running-” 

“It’s fine,” Jake huffed, “Mav has us doing classroom work. Nothing Dragon and Rooster can’t handle.” 

Y/N shook her head, “I’m just. . . I’m so sorry.” Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched his normally strong partner crumble because she was fifteen minutes late. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Jake, “I promise next time I’ll-” 

“Code Blue Room 310. Code Blue.” 

The speaker above them sounded out interrupting them. 

“That’s the room next to Ella’s,” Jake said, his heart coming to a complete stop in his chest. 

“April,” Y/N breathed out. 

Both of them turned on their feet, rushing down the hall as a mass of doctors and nurses went rushing into the room next to Ella’s. Y/N could see through the large bay window into the room as Miles started doing compressions on the little boy's chest, his parents standing in the corner with tears streaming down their faces. 

It was like Y/N was stuck in that nightmare again. The images of her standing outside the hospital room, looking through the window while the doctors just stood around her child. Y/N turned her head as Sammy’s chest convulsed off the bed as they shocked his heart. Jake wrapped his arm around her, his hand cradling the back of her head as she held onto his flight suit. It was like a car crash on the side of the road, Jake couldn’t look away as they shocked Sammy’s heart again. The scene went on for only a few more minutes until the loud beep of asystole sounded out from the room, as the wails of parents filled the air.

“No! My Baby!” 

“Time of death. . . nine thirty six.” 

“Sammy! No! No!” 

A sob left Y/N’s mouth, and Jake held her tighter.. The door to the room opened up, Miles being the first one to walk out, a discouraged look on his face. Y/N lifted her head meeting his sad brown eyes. It was the same look that he had given Y/N many months ago. The look of heartbreak and sorrow. 

“I’m sorry,” Miles said, shaking his head and stalking off. 

Y/N looked over her shoulder, seeing Jake’s stoic and shocked face, “W-what do we do?”

Jake looked down at her, and then back towards the room where the two parents cried over their dead son, “I don’t know. But we need to tell Ella. . . they are-were friends.” Y/N nodded her head. 

Ella was wide awake in her bed when Y/N and Jake walked into the room. She smiled at them both, but it quickly faded seeing the frowns on her parents' faces. Y/N sat on the edge of Ella’s bed, and Jake stood behind her. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. They didn’t exactly cover the topic of telling your four year old child that they’re friend just died of the same cancer they have in the parenting books. Jake sensed Y/N’s turmoil, taking a step forward and grabbing her hand. He squeezed it twice, and Y/N looked up at him. She gave him a tight lipped smile before squeezing his hand back twice. 

“Ella,” Y/N started, “We need to tell you something. . .” 

— — — 

Y/N had never been so thankful to have her parents living in the same city. Clara and James were at the hospital within minutes of Y/N asking if they could stay with Ella. It had been a rough day with Ella, between trying to explain what happened to Sammy, to holding her while she threw up. It had been a day of tears and tantrums from the little girl, she didn’t want to be stuck with needles or be pumped full of medicine and neither one of her parents could blame her. Ella had fallen asleep on Jake’s chest before Clara and James arrived. 

Y/N and Jake had moved in near silence as they made dinner, bathed the boys, and put them both to bed. The mental and physical toll of the day was starting to hit them like trains. Jake was amazed by how strong Y/N had been, being able to keep a smile on her face and care for Ella. He just wanted to go home and drink the day away. 

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Jake said as they walked up the stairs. Y/N’s legs felt like bricks when she reached the top, “I called Mav and told him what happened. I got tomorrow off,” Y/N didn’t say anything as she stared at her bedroom door, “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

It was silent for a moment as Y/N listened to the creak of the floorboards as Jake walked to his room. 

“Jake,” Y/N called out, her voice barely above a whisper. He stopped in his tracks, not daring to look down the hall at her, “Stay with me,” She looked at him, “Please.” Unshed tears shone in her eyes. 

Jake swallowed thickly, “Y/N,” He scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t think that's a good-” 

Y/N shook her head, walking over to him, “Please,” She stood in front of him. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but refrained, “Please. . . stay with me. . . I don’t want to be alone after today.” 

Jake looked into her eyes, seeing the longing and the fear that hid behind unshed tears. Silently, Jake agreed, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers and lead her down the hall. He gently pushed open her bedroom door. It was just the same as it was two years ago. It was as if she was still living in a time capsule where Jake had never betrayed her. Where they were still married. Where they were still one. 

Jake walked Y/N over to her side of the bed, having her take a seat on the mattress. She watched as he moved around the room with muscle memory, opening drawers to her dresser, pulling out her normal pajamas; an oversized shirt and boxer shorts. He set them on the bed next to her, standing in front of her. 

“Can you-” 

“Help me?” They spoke at the same time. 

Every fiber in Jake’s being was telling him no. Every fiber was telling him to leave the room, to tell her that she would be fine on her own and he’d be right down the hall if she needed him. But his heart was telling him that he couldn’t leave her. Not like this. Not when she had witnessed every sick parents’ worst nightmare. Jake functioned wordlessly, as he reached for Y/N’s hands, standing her up. His hands went to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. He refrained from looking at her chest, which he felt like he deserved an award for. He folded the shirt nicely placing it on the bed behind her. 

“You should probably do the um. . . pants,” Jake gestured to her lower half. 

“Jake,” She chuckled, “We were married and had three kids. You can’t take my pants off?” 

“Yes I-. . . Well you know that I can but this is. . . This is different,” Jake said. 

“Why won’t you look at me?” 

“Y/N,” Jake challenged. 

“Jake,” Y/N shot back, “Look at me.” 

Jake huffed, turning his head to look at her. It was the first time in nearly three years that he had seen her like this. His body felt like it had been lit on fire. Three years, and Y/N hadn’t aged a day. Her body was still perfect; beautiful skin, perky breasts, curves that brought grown men to their knees. Jake’s hands itched to touch her, to remember the feel of her skin beneath his palms. He felt his groin tighten at the memories of her being under him. 

“Jake,” Y/N sighed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him as she took a step closer.. 

“Y/N,” He warned. 

“Please,” She begged, her eyes wide with lust, “I need you.” 

“Y/N.” 

“One night,” Y/N begged, “One night to make me forget, please.” 

Jake groaned, grabbing her face and crashing his lips to hers. The familiar taste of her chapstick, something that hadn’t changed over the past three years. Her hands went to his hair, pulling on his blonde locks as his hands roamed her body, walking her backwards until they both landed on the bed. Y/N moaned as Jake’s lips landed on her neck, sucking and biting gently. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t dreamed of having his lips on her skin again. 

“Did he touch you?” Jake asked, his hot breath fanning her neck. 

Y/N shook her head. 

“I need to hear it, Y/N,” Jake said, looking at her, “Did he touch you?” 

“No,” Her answer was solid, “Not like this. Not ever, like this.” 

“Good,” Jake sat back on his haunches, grabbing the neck of his shirt and pulling it over his head, “Cause I don’t share.” 

Y/N’s eyes shamelessly ran down his naked torso. It was obvious that Jake took care of his body. She remembered all those mornings of waking up to him playing music in the garage turned home gym. But seeing his sculpted body up close again, sent her into a frenzy as she reached out for him, pulling him back down against her. The two of them kissed passionately, hands roaming each other’s bodies, trying to pull one another as physically close as possible. Clothes ended up scattered around the room until they were bare in front of one another. 

“Are you sure?” Jake asked, placing himself in between Y/N’s legs. His cock was hard and leaking, aching for some sort of relief. Y/N’s eyes wandered down his body, a shiver running through her body. 

“Please,” She reached down and grabbed his cock, guiding it in between her legs, “Please, fuck me, Jake.” 

Jake nodded his head, replacing Y/N’s hand with his own. He ran it over her folds, before gently pushing the head into her opening. A hiss left Y/N’s lips at the unfamiliar feeling of being stretched. Jake knelt down on his elbows, caging her head in between his arms. 

“Look at me,” Jake whispered. Y/N’s eyes fluttered up to his green ones, “Breathe, I got you. I won’t hurt you.” Y/N nodded her head as Jake grabbed her thigh, guiding it over his hip, pushing into her a bit more. They both let out a gasp as Jake bottomed out, his hips flush against hers. He waited a moment, letting them both get used to the feel of one another. 

“Jake,” Y/N placed both hands on his cheeks, “Move. Please.” 

Jake complied moving his hips back ever so slightly and then pushing back into her. The painful stretch of Jake’s cock in her pussy slowly faded away until pleasure filled her body. Jake’s grunts filled the air, as he sped his hips up, and hit all the right places. Y/N dug her nails into his back, surely leaving angry red marks down the skin. 

Neither one could remember the last time they had sex like this. Raw, emotional, full of passion. The two of them pawed and pulled each other as close as possible. Their lips swallow one another’s moans and cries of pleasure. Jake brought Y/N to the brink of orgasm twice, before cumming inside of her. He collapsed on her chest, their heartbeats erratic but still beating in time. 

The two of them had cleaned each other up in near silence, both scared of even talking about what had transpired between them. Y/N laid on her side of the bed, far away from the door, wrapped in Jake’s arms, her head on his chest. She gently traced over the tattoo on his pec, the gentle cursive of her name. She had noticed the other day that he still had her initials tattooed on his ring finger. 

“I’ll do it,” Y/N mumbled. 

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his wife, “Do what?” 

Tears filled her eyes, as she looked at him, “I’ll go to the support group.” 

Jake gave her a sad smile as he bent his head down, placing a feather soft kiss on her lips, “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Goodnight, Jake.”

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[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

[its-the-pilot]

Dancing With Your Ghost | One-Shot

I'm not sure why I felt like writing something sad, but here it is! Working on the next chapter of Waves as well, just needed to get this out of my system first 😭

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin made a promise and he's determined to keep it.

Warnings: major character death, grief, funeral, sad stuff

Length: 2.5k words

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader, Jake Seresin x Female Reader (friendship)

| Masterlist | Rooster One-Shots Masterlist |

Dancing With Your Ghost

Jake Seresin stood in the doorway to your bedroom, a dark frown on his face as he studied the subject of his thoughts carefully. You were sitting on the bed, your knees drawn up to your chest as you stared out the window, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t want to be there, especially not on today of all days, but he had made a promise.

He said your name quietly, not intending to startle you, but when you visibly stiffened, he realized he had. He didn’t move from his place in the doorway as you swiped at the wet trails on your cheeks with the pads of your fingers, waiting until you turned your head to acknowledge him.

“Hey.”

Cautiously, he started moving toward you, noticing as he got closer that your hair was still damp from your shower. “It’s almost time,” he managed, hoping that the reminder would pull you out of your dark thoughts. 

You returned your gaze to the window as you nodded, a vacant look in your eyes. The skies were heavy with gray clouds and it had started raining, a light spring shower, but nonetheless a rare event in San Diego. ‘Fitting,’ he thought to himself, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to you. “C’mon… want me to send Nat in to help you get ready?”

“‘M not going,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. 

Sighing, Jake moved closer and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. “You really think that’s what he’d want?” he asked, looking down at your profile as your chin rested on your knees, making you look much younger than you were. “He’d want you to have closure, darlin’.”

“I can’t,” you croaked out, sniffling. “I can’t go and see him like that. I don’t want that to be my last memory of him.”

The past week had been hard on everyone, but understandably, as his wife you had the hardest time coping. He watched as you twisted the set of rings on your finger, the sight making his chest clench uncomfortably, a reminder of what you had lost.

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

“We’re here.”

The words sent a chill down Hangman’s spine as he looked up from where his cover rested on his lap to the front door of your house. Stepping out of the car, he walked beside the CACO officer and the chaplain wearing his service dress blues, stopping when they climbed the steps to your porch. 

Moving to the front of the group, he reached up and knocked on the door firmly, clasping his hands in front of him as he waited for you to answer. 

Inside, you were planning to tell Bradley that you were pregnant when he got home in a few hours. There was a cake in the oven and a white onesie with “Daddy” painted on it drying on the counter when you opened the door, your smile fading as soon as you saw the set of solemn faces before you.

You locked eyes with your husband’s wingman and instantly knew why they were there, not needing to be told about the malfunction Bradley had experienced with his jet earlier that day. Your knees gave out as the realization hit and Jake caught you in his arms, slowly lowering you both to sit on your porch as you sobbed into his uniform coat, looking up to his companions helplessly.

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

Releasing another heavy sigh, Hangman shook the memory from his mind and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, hating the way you tensed under his touch. Everyone -- himself included -- had been hesitant to approach you, not knowing what the right words were. There wasn’t exactly a right way to go about comforting someone who just lost their husband and the father of their unborn child.

After a moment Jake felt you lean into him, the tension in your body relaxing some, and it made him smile a little. He squeezed you gently, silently letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere and that if you wanted to talk, you could.

“Why did he leave me? He promised he wouldn’t.” Your voice was so quiet that he almost let himself believe you hadn’t spoken at all, simply because he wasn’t sure how to answer the question. 

“It was an accident, darlin’,” he explained, his thumb rubbing circles against your shoulder. “You know he loved you more than anything, and he would have been so happy about the baby.”

You simply nodded and wrapped your arms around your slight bump protectively. When you finally pulled away from Jake he noticed that you were wearing the NAVY t-shirt Rooster used for workouts, his scent still embedded in the fabric.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you managed, pushing yourself to your feet shakily and heading to the window. 

Jake leaned forward, his eyes never leaving you as he rested his elbows on his knees. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him, instead focusing your gaze on the street outside, following a car as it passed. The tension in the room was palpable, and Jake could make out the knots in your shoulders under the t-shirt you wore. 

He struggled to hold back a quiet sigh as he said your name again. When you didn’t reply, he stood and moved toward you, dropping another kiss to your cheek before squeezing your shoulder gently. “I’m gonna go downstairs, alright? We’re leaving for the service in ten minutes.”

A single nod was the only recognition you gave him before he turned to leave the room, closing the door almost silently behind him. Once he was at the bottom of the stairs, he allowed himself a moment of grief, releasing the shaky sigh he had held back moments before. Internally, he cursed himself, hating that he wasn’t strong enough to show you that you weren’t the only one in pain. 

“Did you get her to talk?”

Hangman turned at the sound of Phoenix’s voice as she stood in the kitchen behind him, a frown on his lips. “I tried. Don’t know how much good it did.”

She nodded, smoothing the front of her uniform to give her hands something to do. “This was his biggest fear, leaving her alone with a baby that would never know him,” she explained, a sadness to her voice that neither of them were ready to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” he replied, leaning against the counter heavily. “It’s not fair how history repeats itself.” 

Natasha moved to stand beside him, her heels making her slightly taller than his shoulder. When he glanced over to her, he couldn’t help but notice the way her neatly manicured nails were digging into her palms, leaving little crescent-shaped marks in their wake. 

The two pilots stood in silence, unsure of what to say to each other. It had been a week since the accident, and the Daggers had been spending time at your house in shifts so that you weren’t alone, giving them something to focus on besides their own emotions surrounding the death of their teammate.

It was Bradley Bradshaw’s only final request -- that his squad look out for you. He had pulled Hangman and Phoenix aside only days after proposing and made them promise that if anything happened to him, you would be taken care of. They had agreed, of course. You had become a part of their Dagger family as soon as Rooster introduced you to them years earlier, knowing from the start that you were The One.

The sound of your bedroom door opening pulled both Jake and Natasha from their silent thoughts, simultaneously pushing away from the counter as you came down the stairs and stopped in front of them. Your hair was pulled into a simple ponytail and your makeup was natural looking, something Bradley liked. You wore a knee-length black lace dress that wasn’t too tight around the middle, one that Nat had laid out for you that morning before you woke up. You were still early in your pregnancy but there was a slight bump that you didn’t want everyone to see yet -- only the Daggers knew about the baby.

“I think I’m ready,” you stated quietly, briefly looking each of them in the eye before stepping past them.

Moving with you toward the door, Jake lifted your coat off of the hook and helped you into it before leading you out to his truck with a gentle hand at the small of your back, Phoenix following close behind. The drive to the cemetery was silent as you stared out the window, your fingers playing with your rings again as your hands rested in your lap.

When you arrived, Jake rounded the front of the truck and opened your door, offering a hand to help you out. “Ready?”

Accepting his help out of the tall truck, you leaned up and kissed his cheek softly before turning and giving Nat a hug when she climbed out of the truck behind you. “Thanks, both of you,” you whispered, offering a sad smile before moving toward the group of uniforms near the gravesite. 

Jake closed his eyes as she walked away, taking a deep breath to center himself as Nat stood beside him. “She’ll be okay,” she assured him. “Hopefully she’ll get some closure.”

He nodded, looking over to his fellow pilot. “Yeah… I hope so.”

The funeral was standard for a Naval Officer as you stood at the gravesite, Bradley’s surrogate father Pete Mitchell on one side and Jake on the other, the rest of the Daggers nearby for any additional support you would need. You did your best to hold back tears as a folded flag was placed into your hands by Admiral Simpson, though you lost the battle when you watched Bradley’s squadron approach his coffin one at a time and pound their wings into the smooth wood. 

Finally, cradling the folded flag to your chest, you stepped forward, hesitantly brushing your fingers over the coffin that encased your husband. You closed your eyes and recited a quiet prayer, tears sliding down your cheek and landing on the casket.

After a moment the crowd began to disperse and Maverick came to stand beside you, his hand moving to rest on your back gently. You didn’t protest, leaning into him for support, having grown close to the older man over the past few years since Bradley reconnected with him. 

“I thought we would be together forever,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears as you finally pulled your hand away from the casket. “Silly, huh?”

Maverick shook his head, taking your hand when you dropped it to your side, squeezing it gently. “That’s what he wanted. He never loved anyone the way he loved you.”

Looking over to him, you offered a grateful nod, tears shining in your eyes. “Thank you,” you replied quietly, biting your lip. “It meant a lot to him to have you back in his life these last few years.”

“It meant a lot to me too,” he affirmed. “Just trust that his mom and dad are taking care of him now, and know that he wishes more than anything he could be here with you.”

A fresh set of tears began sliding down your cheeks as he spoke, clutching the flag tighter to your chest. Releasing Maverick’s hand, you swiped at the tears just as Hangman approached, offering the older man a salute. The same was returned, followed by a handshake between them. 

“I’ll let Jake get you home,” Maverick said simply, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently. “Are you gonna be okay tonight?”

You nodded, looking down at your feet to prevent your eyes from sliding back to the coffin. “I’ll be okay. I have to get used to it sometime.”

“I’ll be there,” Jake assured him, prepared to stay as long as you needed him to, taking his promise to Rooster seriously. “If you want me to, of course.”

Maverick watched as you shrugged half-heartedly, wishing that he could take your pain away. “Okay,” he nodded, giving you another kiss on the cheek before clapping Hangman on the shoulder. “Take care of her,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern for you.

“You know I will, Sir,” he replied, waiting until the older man departed before turning to fully face you. “Ready to go?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from moving back to the casket at the question, wanting to stay there forever if you were being honest. Clutching the flag tighter, you forced yourself to look up at Jake and nod your head. His large hand found the small of your back once again as he led you back to his truck. 

“Where’s Nat?” you asked, allowing the blonde aviator to open the passenger door for you.

“She got a ride with Coyote,” Jake explained, watching you climb inside before rounding the truck and sliding behind the wheel. “I can call her when we get back to your place, if you want?”

“No,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You don’t have to stay with me either. I”ll be fine on my own.”

Jake started the truck and frowned at her reply. “‘Okay’... ‘fine’... you’re starting to sound like him,” he pointed out, beginning the drive back to your house. 

You didn’t say anything in response as you rested your head against the window of the truck while he drove, never once letting go of the folded flag in your arms, holding it as though it was a lifeline. When he finally pulled into the driveway and parked the truck, Jake moved to your side again to open the door, tapping on the window and waiting until you reluctantly lifted your head from the glass so as to not hurt you. 

“He’s not coming home,” you declared, your voice eerily calm despite the tears that stained your cheeks. “I’m never gonna feel him hold me again.” Your eyes were fixed on the house in front of you, and Jake’s heart broke as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. 

His hand ran up and down your back, feeling the moment when your resolve finally broke, your body shaking as you sobbed into the lapel of his uniform coat just as you had on the day it happened. “Everything will get easier, darlin’,” he tried, unsure if he was trying harder to convince you or himself. “And over time… it’ll hurt less.”

“I don’t want it to hurt less, I want him to come back,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you continued to cry. “I just want my Bradley back.”

Jake’s eyes fell shut at the sound of his wingman’s name coming from your lips, the first time he had heard you use it since he died. He knew that you understood what you were asking for was impossible, but in that moment as he held you trembling in his arms, he would have done anything to take Rooster’s place. 

If only to see you smile one more time.

[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”

[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.”

TAG LIST- Thank you for the encouragement❤️

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@a-reader-and-a-writer

[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😍

[that-one-random-writer]

I'm fucking shaking!!!!!

[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

[ohtobeleah]

I know Amilia and Hangman go through a rough patch. (So rough he marries someone else lol) But is there ever a moment when Jake think he loves Amilia?

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

Flowers // Jake Seresin

The first name that appeared across Amilia Fisher's phone when she finished her shift at the humble bar that seemed to be the heart and soul of North Island was Jake’s. More specifically, his name in her phone that she’d just recently changed after a small argument they’d had over the classic chicken parmigiana and the appropriate colloquial, abbreviation for such a dish. Parma or Parmi. Thus, American Idiot was what Amilia had appropriately coined Jake Seresin. 

It was four simple words that made her heart ignite like it had been set alight and quickly became an uncontrollable flame. She caught herself smiling as she looked down at her phone, thinking to herself how the hell she managed to snag a guy like Jake. It seemed like it was something straight out of a perfectly planned out fanfiction. But the truth of the matter was Amilia Fisher was in love. 

She just didn’t know it yet. 

“You coming over tonight?” Jake asked as casually as he could, he didn’t really want to ask Amilia to come over. He didn’t want to sound too pushy or clingy or hopelessly obsessive, nor did he want her to think she wasn’t welcome any time. Because in reality she was, if Jake had it his way Amelia would never leave his humble abode. So he typed four simple words that could be interpreted as an open invitation that was easily passable if she wasn’t interested. The thing was though, Jake Seresin was in love.  

He just didn’t know it yet. 

He’d never felt this type of way before, so hopelessly devoted. Amilia had come into Jake Seresins life at a time where he wasn’t looking for something serious, hell he wasn’t even looking at all when she’d come barreling towards him at a thousand miles an hour. Leaving Jake with no time at all to take cover. He didn’t even have a second to brace for impact—all Jake clearly remembers was standing at the top of the North Island police station steps watching Amilia Fisher pace back and forth back and forth. But the moment he saw her? The moment Amilia stepped foot into Jake's world, his life, he knew that she’d be in it for the rest of it.

“Let me swing by the shops and grab a few things and I’ll be over.” Amilia typed back before she pocketed her phone and walked out into the carpark where Payback's old statesman was parked. It used to be his dads old car, which was then passed down the Rueben and thus, the keys were temporarily in Amilias hands while she was in the states. 

For what it was worth, Amilia didn’t hate the nineteen ninety nine Holden WH series automatic, but what she did hate was the push pins Payback had used to pin up the roof lining that was falling apart. And she hated the tint on the windows that made it hard to see out of when it was cloudy. And she hated the way the exhaust chatted her teeth when she exhilarated. 

“Drive safe, get here in one piece please.” Jake texted back just as Amilia was selecting a song, was Amilia going to let Jake's little jab at her driving affect her? No—but would she let him know about it when she arrived at his house just shy under forty five minutes later? 

Absolutely. 

“For someone who thinks I’m an ill equipped driver you sure do take up the offer of being a passenger princess in your own damn Ute an awful lot.” Amilia huffed as she carried everything she was bringing over to Jake's house for the weekend, in. He stood holding the door open as she dumped her bags and a few grocery bags full of snacks and essentials on the ground in the entryway. “Don’t shut the door, I have one more thing!” Amilia bellowed as she freed herself of all her belongings and jolted back out to Paybacks statesman, Jake just laughed from the threshold as he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the wooden frame. 

“I asked if you were coming over, not if you wanted to move in.” Jake smiled, he wouldn’t mind if Amilia moved in. He’d thought about asking a time or to, but again, Jake had never been this serious about a woman before. Hell he’d never lived with a woman he was in a relationship with before. So the idea of being okay with wanting to live with Amilia Fisher frightened Jake to an extent. 

Because Jake Seresin was well known to be a commitment-phobe. He’s never dated a woman he’s intended to marry. He’s never kept a truck he couldn’t afford to refinance and trade in. Hell how he’d stayed in North Island for as long as he had had his mind blown. 

But Amilia Fisher made Jake question what he was doing. And he hated that he loved it. He hated that this crazy woman had him wrapped around her little finger. If Amilia said get on your knees and bark Jake would, because he was infatuated with her. 

“Shut Up, I ain’t moving in asshat.” Amilia shouted as she ducked herself into the backseat. “I got you a present, but I don’t think you deserve them now.” Jake's eyes widened with surprise and curiosity as Amilia stood from bending over into the backseat of Payback's dads old car. There she held a giant bouquet of flowers. Jake didn’t speak as Amilia shut the door with her foot, walked over, fixed herself up and stood in front of Jake all sweet and soft and holding these flowers he didn’t understand why she had. 

“Amilia, why are you holding a bouquet of flowers that’s bigger than you?” 

“Well I couldn’t not get my favourite Government Owned Naval Lieutenant a present for his birthday now could I?” Amilia beamed, Jake's knees felt weak—he’d never been given flowers before. He’d never had anyone ever in his life buy him flowers. “Happy birthday for tomorrow Seresin, I just hope Felix left some sort of vase here.” 

“You got me flowers for my birthday tomorrow?” Jake asked, surprise oozing from his lips as they twitched up into the corner of his cheeks as a grin was left behind as he reached out to gently take the giant bouquet from Amilia. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I wanted to.” Amilia makes her way inside but not before she’s leaving a kiss against Jake's cheek. “You know most men don’t receive their first bunch of flowers until their funeral?” Amilia explained as Jake just stood there in the entryway admiring his flowers. “I just didn’t want you to become part of that statistic.” She shrugged before dropping down to fish out the small box from her tote bag. “Got you this too but you can’t open it till tomorrow.” 

“What is it?” Jake asked as he followed Amilia into his kitchen, there’s a part of Jake that thinks if Amilia asked him to he’d follow her anywhere. 

“It’s a positive pregnancy test—“ Amilia sighed dramatically as she looked for a vase to hold the flowers Jake still held. “I’m trapping you forever.” Jake laughed as Amilia turned on her heels and held a finger gun up. “Add baby daddy to your list of highly decorated credentials.” 

“You think you’re funny don’t you.” Jake snarled teasingly as Amilia snickered back at him, still looking for something to hold these flowers. 

“I do—but t’was only a joke, you’ll just have to wait to find out birthday boy.” As she found what she was looking for Jake couldn’t help but to just watch. He looked down at the flowers in his hand and back up to Amilia who was filling up the vase at the sink, then back down to the flowers in his hand. 

Damn, Jake could feel his heart swelling and beating through his chest. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach that had ignited into flight. He could see his further clear as day, and Amilia was by his side. He never wanted her to leave, he wanted her to stay, always and forever. This was uncharted territory for Jake, he’d never felt this way for someone before. 

“Hey, come here?” Jake placed the bouquet of flowers down on the kitchen table as he rounded the corner, trapping Amilia in his strong hold just as she placed the vase of water down. “Thanks for the flowers.” He mumbled against her neck from behind. Amilia just turned in Jake's grasp, working to wrap her arms up and around his neck as his hands lingered on her hips. “I really really appreciate the sentiment Oz—“ It had become her honourable call sign. “You’re pretty cool, might just have to keep you around.” 

“My mum said she sent off a box full of Australian snacks that should be here in a few days. I thought we could binge watch that new season of Outer Range together while we make ourselves sick on Tim Tams and Pizza Shapes.” Amilia smiled bright as Jake leaned in to take her hips hostage with his. Giggling against him as Jake lifted her up onto the bench. 

“It’s a date baby.” Jake cooed as his hands came up to cup at Amilias cheeks, kissing her slowly while his heart filled with the idea of having this, having her, forever. 

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire—Jake Seresin was in love and he finally knew it.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56

[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...

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

~ Lucky ☘️