#hangman x kazansky oc

[mlqueen89]

One | Flyboy 

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

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |     

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

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

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

word count: 8,997

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

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

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

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

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ❥

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.   

The response pinged back quickly.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Ken.  

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.    

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you drinking, Amelia?” 

“Nothing, yet.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mystery solved.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that darlin’?”    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.” 

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

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

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

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

“Eleanor.” 

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

“Surname?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is—”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to say please, sweetheart. 

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

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

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

Incredible sex.     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great.    

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

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

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

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[thewulf]

Top Gun Masterlist

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Top Gun Maverick

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Who are You? | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ✿

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It Matters✿‎

Not Just Pals✿‎

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What a Look on You ✿✦‎

I Think I Love You✿‎

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[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Ten

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Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: Iceman is dead. At his funeral secrets are revealed. Hangman doesn't take this revelation too well, causing more hurt and heartbreak.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss, funeral

Wordcount: 4k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: Here it is. The big bad chapter. I hope you got your tissues ready. This was hard to write for me too. I wish I could promise that the next couple of chapters are going to make it better but I fear for now we are in the droughts before it can get better again. Feel free to slide into my asks if you need some pick-up or fluff to handle it in between the wait! There is so much more to say for this story and pairing.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

So how do I say goodbye

To someone who's been with me for my whole damn life?

You gave me my name and the color of your eyes

I see your face when I look at mine

So how do I, how do I, how do I say goodbye?

Admiral Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet was dead.

The news had come unexpectedly, surprising everyone who hadn’t been part of the late Admirals closest circle and family. Grief over the loss of their Commander had taken the Navy by surprise. Many had met the aviator and worked with him over the course of his impressive and long career.

There wasn’t a single sailor in their branch that didn’t have something good to say about the man. He’d inspired many, friends and colleagues alike to the men serving under him.

Now he was gone.

The daggers shifted uneasily in their stiff formal uniforms, arranged in a line at the front with many other servicemen on the military graveyard. A large crowd had gathered today to honor the legend. 

Men and women had come flocking from every part of the US, some even from other parts of the world. And while a majority of them were in service uniforms, the uniformous dark silhouettes of civilians weren’t to be disregarded either.

Each one of them stood tall and proud, representing, their eyes remained forward as the ceremony was taking place. Maverick and Cyclone stood to the side of the casket, flanking the late Commander's family.

Jake hadn’t taken much notice of them, too occupied with standing still and occasionally also thinking about Ana. As the repeated ring of shots from the rifle detail sounded on, he couldn’t help but wonder how she was doing, certainly going through a similar ceremony saying goodbye to her father.

Once the honor guard had folded the American flag, Cyclone stepped forward to take over and represent Iceman’s widow with it. It was then that Jake’s eyes for the first time focused on her. And it was then that he noticed someone very familiar, clad in a black dress, just beside her.

It was Ana.

Red-rimmed eyes, even from this distance Hangman could see how heartbroken she was, her face barely holding the neutral expression she’d put on. The two women were holding hands, Ana clutching her mother’s hand and staring blankly at the casket.

As Cyclone stepped towards them they had to let go of one another. Ana’s eyes briefly broke away and turned to the side. She glanced at the flag only for a short moment, set to look away again. Her eyes strayed toward the crowd, and when they did they met his.

The eye contact didn’t last long but it was enough for Jake to realize who she was. He hadn’t been able to piece it together until now. A part of him hadn’t wanted to believe it to be her, but as she’d looked at him there was no denying it.

She was Kazansky’s daughter. The rumored Top Gun graduate who had changed her last name in order to hide her identity and to not be associated with her father.

Anger rose in the pit of Jake’s stomach. Fiery hot and acidic, it threatened to boil over and consume him. Disappointment settled into every cell of his, not that Jake would have been able to realize so as the anger masked any other sensation he could have felt. 

Ana’s eyes widened in surprise, the recognition that had settled over him now overcoming her. 

Her secret was out. 

Just as quickly as they had crossed she averted her eyes but Jake couldn’t help but continue staring at her. There was nowhere else he could look at now, than at her. 

She wouldn’t look toward him again.

Perhaps it was better so. Jake wasn’t sure he’d have been able to hold himself back had their eyes met once again. Even now the emotions in him boiled close to the surface still, eating away at his resolve and composure. His body was engulfed in flames. 

It was an ugly sensation, rotten and tainted. He felt betrayed. Hurt and angry. So many emotions swirled inside him, he couldn’t name them all. They blurred together to form one shifting, rising monster. Its low rumbles grew louder as its sharp talons dug into him, demanding to claw its way to the surface.

It was the betrayal that hurt the most. No small measure, she’d kept something as momentous as this from them. Their teammates. Their friends. Even after being asked about it, she’d feigned ignorance.

Navy funerals were short. They were straightforward and to the point. Jake barely caught the ending of it. As the group of sailors and civilians slowly dispersed he found himself once more looking out for Ana, rooted to his spot.

“Are you coming?” Halo stood beside him with an arched brow. 

“I’ll be there in a second.” Answer enough for Halo, she turned around and followed the already retreating group of their team members.

Their path led them through the rows of gravestones, toward the front of the lot where the guests were gathering, soon to split into the private mourning party for the following funeral meal and the soldiers and others who would return to work and their own lives.

But Jake couldn’t leave yet, even if he had assured Halo he’d follow. He hadn’t even looked at her during their short exchange, instead, his eyes had searched the crows for the familiar - or now not-so-familiar - person.  She couldn’t have moved past him, he’d seen.

At last, his sharp eyes found her. Ana remained motionless in front of the fresh grave, inconsolably staring at the spot her father had been lowered down mere minutes ago. His final resting place was covered in fresh soil. The dark color stood in contrast with the white marble headstone and the vibrant flowers the remaining family members had placed on top of it. Flower wreaths and bouquets would follow in the next few days, crowding every available space.

The dewy grass made soft noises, scrunching under his feet as Jake stepped toward her. Mere meters away from her he was when Ana looked up. A pang of empathy erupted in his chest, painfully spreading through him, worse than any bullet wound could ever hurt. He hated seeing her this sad and crushed.

Her cheeks were wet with streaks of tears, eyes red-rimmed. A quiet sniffle carried over to him guided by the soft breeze. It ruffled her hair, carefully tucked away in a bun that showed some dignity and semblance to her usually tidy and proper, uniform glad, appearance. Wisps of hair gradually loosened now hanging down, having been pulled out through bouts of nervosity and great emotional distress, framing her face, painted an altogether different picture for him.

Any notion of commiseration was overtaken by the wave of anger crashing over Jake in an even more violent way than during the ceremony. Failing to reel his emotions in, to shove them back into the deep pit he’d had them banished mere moments ago, he lost all control over himself. 

Any composure he’d had was gone and with it, his inhibitions and smart thinking had left as well. Jake would surely hate himself for it the second he’d step out of the cemetery but right now he couldn’t care less. 

“You lied.” The accusation was vile, thinly concealed anger brushing at his lips, demanding to be unleashed.

“I didn’t.”

“You did. You lied to all of us.” 

You lied to me

“It’s not what you think, Jake,” Ana whispered, her voice barely loud enough for the breeze to carry it.

“Oh?”, he scoffed, “Then what is it? Why do you think you didn’t lie to us? Does this not qualify as dishonesty?”

“All my life I have been the Admiral’s daughter. Kazansky’s youngest,” her own name was hard to voice out loud in this difficult time, reminding her too much of the loss. “Ever since I was little people looked at me and only saw my father’s daughter. They made it easy for me, treated me better, gave things to me just because I was who my name made me when all I always wanted was to be looked at and for them to not see my father’s daughter but me.

I wanted to just be me. Not Ana Kazansky, daughter of the famous Iceman.

Just Ana.”

There was a pause, a brief lull, in her explanation in which she looked at him with hopeful eyes. But the hostility with which he eyed her quickly had the hope wither away. She’d never seen him this distant and closed off, not even when he was fully immersed into being Hangman. 

“I knew I could never prove myself and achieve something on my own if I was known as the Admiral’s daughter. Everyone would say I didn’t work hard enough to get so far, that my father’s position got me everything. I didn’t want to be labeled a fraud and be accused of illicitly getting into the Academy and Top Gun. 

So I decided to become someone no one would know by taking my mother’s maiden name. 

I became no one.”

What was his entitlement to judge her on a decision she’d made for her life? Long before she’d ever known him or any of the others? She did not owe anyone but her parents and herself an explanation for her choice. Had she not done it, someone would have found fault in her decision either way.

Yet it hurt much worse for Jake to be this angry about it than any other person. She didn’t give a damn about a stranger's feelings on it and frankly even her colleagues and friends, yet why did it bother her so much to see him with his jaw tightly set in tension and nose scrunched in anger.

Jake kept quiet for too long. Her words echoed in his head. He didn’t want to understand her. His anger made him irrational, refusing to see any reason or logic in it. Even if he wanted to understand her, his anger wouldn’t let him. The monster that had grown deep inside him forbade him from doing so. It wouldn’t let him back down.

“And you think that makes a difference? You still deceived us.”

He forced himself to turn around without another word. One foot in front of another, mechanically he marched away from her. No, not entirely. 

Two more graves lay between them when he turned around once more. The small, fiercely fighting part of his good conscience had lost against the bitter, petty monster that was his hurt, his betrayed feelings, his anger.

“I suppose you won’t come back to finish the mission. Better like that anyway. We don’t need someone we don’t actually know in the air with us. We need someone we can trust.”

Ana watched him turn around, letting her stand there. He marched briskly, calculated steps carrying him through the narrow rows of graves toward the front of the cemetery.

All she could do was stare at the hat-clad back of his head and his tense, impossibly tight squared shoulder. Mind left reeling it felt like with his retreat he’d pulled the earth beneath her feet, plucking her into a dark, endless descent.

First, it were her lips that trembled as fresh tears misted over her eyes, then her hands, and soon her legs followed.  Ana felt the world coming down around her, its weight ready to crush her. Was she not already crushed? The loss of her father had felt like the worst pain she’d ever felt. A hole where her heart had been, she was sure it had been laid beneath the ground with his human remains.

Why then were it Hangman’s words that ultimately brought her to her knees? All strength drained from her limbs, her knees buckling beneath her as she slowly sank down. Down, down, down until she crouched there, head hung, arms wrapped around herself in a feeble attempt for comfort. The endless waterfall of tears dripped onto her knees, wetting the dark fabric of her dress.

Rooster clenched his fists beside his body, teeth churning as he watched her crumble to the ground. All because of him. Hangman. 

Unbeknownst to either of them he had watched their exchange from the distance that was the gravelly front of the graveyard. The attendees of the funeral all gathered there now. 

As Hangman reached the group that was the Daggers everything in him screamed to intercept his path. To knock the arrogant bastard onto his ass and punch a couple of his perfect white molars out. 

Even if Rooster had had his own differences and fights with Ana, she was still as close to a little sister as he could have and no one - but especially not Hangman - got to hurt her like that. Not when she was already hurting enough. He wanted to look out for her, albeit punching the blonde menace and causing a scene now weren’t the best way to do it. 

So instead he glowered at him, a death glare as strongly as Rooster could muster it, and in that he was a master. Hangman breezed past him and most of the rest of the group for that. The gravel under his feet crunched. While the others didn’t understand what was going on, they took the blonde’s initiative to also leave.

“Rooster, you coming?” Phoenix stepped beside him. Her eyes briefly went to the opposite side of the yard, where the private funeral party had gathered. The Kazansky’s. Maverick.

“Go on without me. I’ve got a ride back.”

Phoenix eyed him a moment longer than necessary, gauging his words before she nodded. They’d all come to the graveyard together, shuttled by a navy bus. Her hand briefly landed on his shoulder, squeezing him before she turned around, joining the rest of them on their way back to the bus.

Straightening his back Bradley walked over to the people he considered his extended family. Many of the familiar faces acknowledged him with small nods or waves and the more or less successful try of a smile mustered. He walked past most of them after a polite nod, aiming straight for his aunt Sarah.

Outwardly she seemed composed, her face embellished in the same stubborn mask Ana had worn during the procession. As he pulled her into a hug her composure grumbled and he felt her slump against him, softly crying. Bradley muttered his condolences into her ear, holding her tightly against him. 

He knew best how it was to lose someone important. They’d been there for him after he’d lost his father and their presence had been even stronger when he’d lost his mother to sickness and Maverick to betrayal. There wasn’t one moment in his life in which he remembered the Kazansky’s not being there for him. It was time to give some of this unwavering support back in this dire moment of need and hurt.

It took Ana a long while to calm down enough so she could stand up again. Even then her legs still trembled. It took her even longer to be ready to move. When she was, she felt still rattled, as if the glue that was holding her had come undone.

Hands clenched at her sides and her head turned downwards toward the grass beneath her feet, she was walking quickly. Bouts of electricity shot through her, one after the other feeling like she was shocked by an outside source.

The cemetery was mostly empty now, safe for her family. Before she could reach them another person stepped into her path. Her eyes traveled from the shined shoes, upward the crisp black pants toward the face she least expected to see.

Bradley stood across from her, the rest of the Daggers nowhere to see. A fact she was rather grateful for at the moment. Still, the sight of him put her on edge. She wouldn’t be able to handle it if Bradley were to treat her with hostility now as well.

To her big surprise, there was no harshness, no cold distance in his eyes. Not like the last time he had looked at her. Ever since their talk on the tarmac, he’d kept his distance from her. Either outright ignoring or avoiding. 

Entirely opposite now Bradley eyed her with warmth and compassion. He walked over to her, with every step he came closer Ana felt herself start to tremble again. By the time he reached her, her lips wobbled dangerously, eyes once more watery.

“Bradley,” she whimpered, falling into his arms as he enveloped her. Damned be the navy regulations on uniforms, she didn’t care as her hands clawed into the fabric of his jacket, holding on for dear life.

“Shh, Teds,” she heard him rumble, a strong and warm hand rubbing soothingly over her back.

“Do you think I was out of line not telling the team who Dad was?”

Doubts had started to gnaw at her the moment Hangman had accused her of it. She’d never seen it as lying to them, as being deceiving. What would that information have changed about her ability to fly the mission? What would have changed about her hard work?

Bradley pushed her back enough to be able to look into her tear-stained face. She looked miserable. Broken. 

Another wave of anger washed over him, silently cursing Hangman for causing this. Not long ago he had accused her of the same thing. In his anger over the situation and the close proximity with Maverick, he had misled and directed his anger toward her.

“No, you weren’t.” Reaching out he wiped away her tears and made sure she looked at him, that she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

“You did what was right for you, what was the right decision for you. You chose to do this long before any of them knew you. You didn’t do it to deceive anyone did you?”

She shook her head, sniffling quietly. 

“It is understandable that you didn’t want to be reduced to your familial connections or last name. No one can blame you for the choice you made to be yourself.” Bradley watched her lips tremble once more, eyes glossing over as new tears threatened to fall. Once more he pulled her into his embrace.

“You earned it. Every single thing you earned on your own. Your place at the Academy, graduating as one of their best students. You became a naval aviator. You got into Top Gun and graduated first place. That’s all your doing. You did that, all on your own and no one can take this from you.

On top of that you are an amazing person. Sure you are a great pilot but you are an even greater friend. Doesn’t matter if you are Ana Lawson or Ana Kazansky. The name doesn’t change who you are at your core. Anyone who can’t see and accept that isn’t worth it.”

Hangman wasn’t worth it. If that arrogant bastard couldn’t see who she was but more importantly who she was no matter her last name, then he didn’t deserve to be even in the same city as her.

Bradley didn’t want to pour more salt into the already irritated wound so he kept quiet about the blonde. Instead, he let her cry against his shoulder, the same way not long ago her mother had done so. If this was how he could help them, he’d let them soak every shirt he owned with their tears.

After a long silence in which Ana’s sobs had gradually lessened, she lifted her head off his shoulder. Her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks wet, hair even more mussed up. Softly Bradley brushed a piece of hair behind her ear before his hand at her back carefully guided her to the parking lot.

Ana stopped in her steps, refusing to move as she saw the practically empty lot. There weren’t any people to be seen. Where was her mother? Where were her siblings? Panic settled over her as her eyes frantically began to search the place up and down, and then a second time. But still, no one had remained.

“Where are they?” There was a panicked hitch in her voice. They hadn’t left them, her, had they? They wouldn’t have done that? Had she lost them now too?

“Hey, Teds, take a breath for me.” Bradley once more stepped in front of her, his hands settled on her shoulders, softly but firmly grabbing her there. He was keeping her from hyperventilating, from outright panicking.

“I told them to go ahead to the house and that I would bring you two back.” 

“Uncle Ron,” Ana breathed, her voice filling with emotion once more. She sidestepped Bradley, walking straight into the opened arms of Slider.

“Heya little chip.” The old nickname had her chuckle wetly and sniffle as she hugged him tightly. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, similarly to Maverick. She’d missed him just as much. Up and down Slider’s hand rubbed over her back in a comforting way. 

“I’m there for you Teddy. Always. If you need something, don’t hesitate to call me.” Ana nodded against her uncle’s chest. He’d always been her hero. Slider had never not been anything but utterly devoted to her and her siblings.

“I promised your dad I’d look after you if anything were to happen ever and I’m planning to uphold this promise. If I have to, I'll cross the entire planet for it.” 

Her heart warmed at this, the sensation was so strong it even overshadowed the pang of grief.

“Alright, now you two will get your asses into my car. Your mother will lynch me if we take too long.” 

Water gurgled as it filled the vase. Droplets of it escaped the crystalline brim, traveling down the outer edge of the vessel and ran over Ana’s fingers. The cold sensation stood in contrast to everything else. Over the course of the day she had gradually numbed down, drowning noises alike out.

As the water overflowed she glanced down at the tap, shutting it off. Some of the water she emptied again before she placed the vase on the counter beside her, where one bouquet of the many flowers they’d gotten laid. 

The big table in the dining room and the kitchen table were littered with them and stacks of condolence cards. It was overwhelming. As the flower slid into the vase, their stems submerging into the water, her mind drifted off once more.

Sighing heavily, she ultimately placed her hands down and let her head hang low.

“Mum?” The word left her lips hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to utter the words, even less so to hear the answer. Her lips were dry and her throat tight. “Did I make a mistake?” Her shoulders started to shake, a sniffle leaving her lips.

“Did I make a mistake hiding my identity in the Navy? Did I–” She choked. 

“–did I hurt Dad with my decision?” Close to breaking down at the thought of it, Ana heard the kitchen chair behind her scrape over the floor. Then her mother's arms were around her, Sarah hugging her from the side. 

“Oh sweetheart, no. You didn’t make a mistake. You chose what was right.”

“Was it though?”

“Teddy, look at me,” Sarah softly asked, wiping the tear off her cheek. “Your father understood you. More than you believe.”

“You resemble him in so many ways,” sadness overcame her mother’s features as she looked at her, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are so alike, he was exactly the same when he was your age. Wanted to prove himself and make it on his own. There was never a moment in which he wasn’t proud of you and standing fully behind your every decision.”

Looking at her mother with tear-streaked cheeks and heaving shoulders Ana couldn’t help but sob again. It felt like crying was the only thing she had done ever since.

“I miss him, Mom,” she whimpered, hiding her face on her mother’s shoulder.

“I do too, my sweet little girl.

He is looking down on us from above now. Watching out for us. Don’t ever think he won’t be there with you, for you.”

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Origin of Hangman

Summary: Hangman contemplates his own personal meaning behind his callsign.

Word Count: 1.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Mentions of Past Iceman / Mitchell!Sister!OC; Mentions of Death; References to Car Accidents; Guilt; Mourning; Loss of a Parent; References to Therapy; References to Mental Health Issues; Mentions of Blood; Crippling Self-Loathing; ANGST

A.N. Set during TGM (after Beach Scene)

This is probably the darkest piece that I’ve published on here FYI. If death and dark thoughts are triggering to you, DON’T READ THIS! You have been warned!

Last day of October, so I thought I would sneak this in for Whumptober vibes even though it doesn’t fit a specific prompt.

Master List

It always seemed fitting to Jake how his callsign was synonymous with ‘killer.’

After his first air-to-air, all anyone could talk about was how great of a pilot he was. How he had perfect aim and not a lick of fear in his system. But all Jake saw in the mirror was a man desperate to rub the blood off his hands, as if the blood of innocent people hadn’t stained his skin since he was a child. As if he could even remember a time when there wasn’t blood on his hands.

The second that his callsign was announced, he was suddenly brought back to all those therapy sessions that his dad set up for him when he was a kid. And then for the first few weeks of his life as ‘Hangman,’ every time that he heard his callsign, it was like the ghost of his mom popped up and slapped him across the face over and over again.

And Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Not with his dad. Not with his uncle. Not with Javy. Definitely not with Bradley. Not with anyone.

The subject was simply too sensitive, too personal, and too overwhelming to talk about without some kind of illicit substance in his system. The last time that he really sat down and talked in depth about his mom was in therapy when he was probably fourteen or so. Every time someone tried to bring up the subject, he shut it down. He always just shut down.

He’d been over it a thousand times with Dr. John and his dad sat him down a number of times over his childhood, but it never fully clicked in Jake’s head. Or maybe he simply didn’t want it to stick. For whatever reason, he always looped around to the idea that it was his fault. It was all his fault.

His mom was dead because of him. He had her blood on his hands.

And he knew that it was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that the night would go like that? It was supposed to be day of celebration, not a day of tragedy. And it wasn’t like he could have changed what happened in the moment. He was asleep in the backseat when it happened.

But those thoughts were still there, tucked in the back of his mind, and popping up at the most inopportune times in his life. The ones where he heard his dad and his uncle and his Aunt Carole and even his mom herself yell those three words at him.

It’s your fault.

And he believed them. Every time.

Maybe it was one of the Mitchell traits he inherited from his mom—the need to turn oneself into Atlas. The one to bear everyone else’s burdens. Ice mourned Jake’s mom, Jake knew. There’s a photo of his father standing at the funeral that would haunt Jake for years. It was the expression of a man who had broken into a thousand pieces the night before and barely glued them back together in time.

But Ice moved on. He found happiness again. He lived his life.

But Maverick coped in a way similar to Jake. There were photos of Jake’s mom all around Maverick’s hangar and throughout his personal belongings. Maverick gave Jake plenty of mementos of his mom, little pieces of her to keep with him for when he needed them.

But the clearest difference was on Jake’s birthday.

On Jake’s birthdays after the accident, when Ice was home, it was like a normal child’s birthday. There was cake with candles, there was singing, there were presents. Jake didn’t want them, but he went along with it to keep his dad happy. After all, if he was successfully lying to his therapists, he could successfully lie to his dad too.

But the birthdays where Ice was gone and it was just Maverick, there wasn’t much of anything. Maverick would take him for a long drive or a long flight, most of which was silent. They would have dinner at a restaurant and then there was a simple cupcake with a singular candle. And that was it. No singing, no presents, no excess. It happened and then they moved on. End of story.

Because no matter how many times he sat down with his therapist or his dad and talked it over, it never left his mind that his birthday and the anniversary of his mom’s death were the same day. And they would continue to be. Forever.

“You have a tattoo?” Phoenix asked, breaking Hangman out of his deep thoughts.

He turned to spot Phoenix behind him, casually sipping on a beer like the rest of the Dagger Squad—save for Bob, anyways—were on the sand. They had just wrapped up a long day of beach football and were all content to simple sit and watch the waves. And it was that serenity that seemed to pull Jake into that part of his mind that he tried to keep under lock and key at all times.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, subconsciously reaching for it.

Between his shoulder blades and below the traditional shirt neckline were two simple wings that somewhat resembled the Top Gun symbol over his mother’s name, which was written in her own handwriting that he salvaged from some letters that she wrote to his dad.

He got it done when he was eighteen. On his birthday, actually. That was one of the years when Ice wasn’t home. Maverick took him and didn’t ask questions. Not before. Not during. And not after. Ice didn’t find out about the tattoo until about eight months later and when he saw it for the first time, he simply pulled Jake in for a tight hug before excusing himself for a moment.

“And that’s the only question that I’m answering about it.”

Getting up from his seat, Jake muttered something as an excuse before leaving the beach on his own. Rooster and Javy were the only two people in the group who knew the meaning behind the tattoo and it was going to stay that way.

Because Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Phoenix looked confused at how a single harmless question had gotten Jake into such a state, but the look on Javy’s face told her that she wasn’t going to get any answers. So, the rest of the Daggers simply bid goodbye to Jake, who carried on as if he didn’t hear them. Reaching his truck, Jake pulled his shirt back over his head and started to prepare to drive out when Maverick came walking over.

“You going home?” Maverick asked Jake, who did not respond verbally. After a moment, Maverick nodded and added, “Give her my love.”

“I will,” Jake stated softly before starting the truck.

Picking up the brightest flowers available from the grocery store on the way, Jake gripped the steering wheel tightly. When he came to a stop light, Jake glanced down at the bright yellow flowers he bought. His dad told him that his mom always insisted that he had to buy bright and fun flowers. Nothing serious like roses or too dark, lest someone think they were for a funeral.

Parking along the cemetery road, Jake walked down the aisle of green grass before pausing at a simple gray stone that had ‘Kazansky’ carved into it. His mother’s first name laid below it with the phrase ‘Loving Mother, Wife, and Sister.’ And then her date of birth and date of death, which was also Jake’s fourth birthday.

Jake tidied up around his mother’s grave before placing the bright yellow flowers down beside the longstanding photo of the family of three—Ice, her, and Jake. It was taken three months before his mother’s death. There was also a toy F-18 that Maverick left there a long time ago that seemed to be integral to the set up now.

He sat down, but did not say a word.

Because Jake did not discuss his mom. Not even with her.

[jackiequick]

Meeting your boyfriends sister | Hangman fanfic ✨

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Amber ‘Skysolo’ Kazansky

Timeline: Post-Top Gun Maverick

Summary: She didn’t think she would ever be nervous about something like meeting the family. She has done it plenty of times before but what happens you boyfriend Hangman Seresin’s sister comes to town?

Charcters mentioned: Elena "Enigma" Seresin, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado, Georgia “Peach” Wells and etc.

Top Gun Maverick AU

——

Amber Kazansky had been though a lot in her lifetime so far. From moving around as a child to different states to watching her aunt Carol die in her teens. Hell she has seen her father go through cancer and survive it.

She has seen friends break up, others get married and move on with their lives. So it was something she was fine with.

It was part of life, meeting people and trying to see if things worked. And if they did, you meet your lover’s friends. They get to meet your parents, seeing if they approve of your relationship.

But meeting her boyfriend’s sister? That was not one of them. So imagine her surprise when she founds out she’s in town for the weekend.

She. Was. Actually. Terrified! 

Yeah she Amber has met a boyfriend or two’s brother and sister in the past. But a naval base boyfriend’s siblings? Never. Jake Seresin was her first boyfriend to be a pilot and a damn good one. Sadly he wasn’t good at breaking news like this.

Because he decided to break the news right before they went to sleep the night before. He said he had something to tell over dinner but forgot about it. But he remembered it right before he turned off the bathroom light and jumped into bed with her.

And he said it so casually too! Like it was the most normal thing in the world?! She knew he had siblings but she wasn’t expecting for her to come over to visit her in the next 24 hours.

Which lead her to find herself roughly tapping her French tips against her desk the next morning. Biting the tip of her nail on one hand as the other typed away furiously on her keyboard. She was filing in information for her father. His assistant, Mindy, sent a small stack of paperwork for her transfer over into spreadsheets within the next couple of days.

She was so focused on her laptop screen, having Rocket Man playing from her speakers, that she didn’t hear friend come in.

Georgia smiled chatting with Bradley at the door as he gave one kiss goodbye before she walked in. She hung up her jacket and set her lunch down on table nearby, grabbing her laptop from the cart. She left it charging earlier beforehand.

“Hey Amber.” She said with a peachy grin on her face as she started rambling about her morning. It was the cutest thing. Her eyes fell onto the blonde who was only half playing attention to what happened, making the brunette pause in her tracks.

“Uhh, earth to Sky? Amber, honey? Hello?” Georgia asked, waving a hand in the air and sighed, “Kazansky!”

“Huh?! What? I’m here, sir!” She yelled snapping out of it, ripping her fingernails away from the tips of her teeths, “Oh, what’s up sweets?”

“I was talking to you and you weren’t listening. That’s what’s up! What’s going on? Your usually cracking a joke by now.”

“You know. I can be very busy, busy, busy bee!”

“Ha! No. That ain’t it. Your always on a semi-busy monthly schedule but this is different. What happened? Was it Rooster and Jen?”

“No..”

“Uhh, hmm. Did Coyote say something stupid again?”

“No he didn’t. Neil didn’t do anything either.”

“Ohh was it Cyclone’s girl Valkyrie?! She’s a tough cookie!”

“No it wasn’t. Nor was it anyone else like Frostbite.”

Georgia’s eyes widen and gasped, “You and Jake had a fight? What did his sorry southern ass to do you? I’ll talk to him. I’ll get Phoenix and Frost as my backup. No one hurts my girl and gets away with it!”

Amber couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned against her chair. Peach was such a doll sometimes. Always so sweet and charmingly spiritual with the way she carried herself. She tend to get nervous and annoyed sometimes but other than that she was well..a peach!

Honestly she needed that today. A laugh from a friend.

“That’s not exactly what Jake said…it wasn’t a fight! We didn’t fight each other for anything. Oh god, I’m sweating. I don’t like this.” Amber admitted with a soft chuckle.

“Oh god something is up if you’re sweating bullets out of nervous. Come on, spill it out!” Georgia encouraged with a certain look.

“I’m meeting my boyfriends older sister today!”

“OH MY GOD! That’s great. From what I received from past relationships, that’s a good thing. That means he likes you, a lot! I’m so happy for you!”

“Now is not the time to be supportive! I’m freaking out, what if she doesn’t like me? What if she hates me and tells Jake stop dating me?! Tell him to aim higher?! That I suck! Cause technically, it’s kinda my fault I put him on a death defining mission to come back to Top Gun. Oh god she’s gonna hate me!”

Georgia stood there with her jaw dropped onto the damn floor. This was one of the first time she ever seen Amber Nic Kazansky in such a frenzy. This woman was always cool, calm and collected from the moment she met her. Giving her advice, by saying if everything is okay and sending a message to everyone on deck she meant every word she ever said.

Yeah sure, she had her moments where she lost her cool like an X-Men during a fight with Wolverine or something. Living up to her callsigns. Like when Jake and Bradley were arguing in the classroom or when Cyclone refused to listen to her and Maverick during the missions they went on.

But this?!

Here she stood in her office freaking out over meeting the family. It was honestly kinda hilarious to her. If she wasn’t such a good friend she would’ve recorded this and sent this whole thing as a video to the group chat.

But honestly it was cute though. It reminded people like her that the Kazansky family was just as human as the rest of them.

It was Georgia turn to calm her down.

“Hey, Amber. Amber, honey look at me. Look at me. Good. Just relax you’re gonna be fine.” Georgia encouraged, holding her shoulders.

“Wh-how? Sorry. How did you react to meeting Jen? She’s practically like a sister to Rooster.” Amber replied, taking a breath.

“Yeah well, I was freaking out cause her dad is sorta a legit legend, but I found her that she’s a total goofball. So maybe eh-what’s her name?”

“Elena.”

“Right, pretty name. Maybe Elena is the same way, just some cool chick. So go on, your gonna be late.”

“But what if she doesn’t like me and Jake didn’t say anything about me? Oh god what if she hates blondes?”

“Ok, now your rambling. Relax, you just gotta prove why your the first Mrs. Hangman. That ring on your fingers means something, right?”

“Right. Right..i yeah, I got this.”

“You got this! Now go on, I have a meeting with Wraith now.”

“Okay but..”

She didn’t have a moment to say anything else because Georgia practically pushed her out the door. She could’ve sworn she’s rubbing off on the brunette with her actions. Amber relaxed her shoulders, she was right. Elena probably a cool girl, relaxed and lay back.

But she was also beauty.

She seen the picture of her last night before she went to sleep. She was stunning with beautiful long blonde hair, pretty eyes glowing like a goddess of the sun and a lovely smile that take someone’s breath away. From just her pictures she seemed like the best women in the world.

A ray of sunshine wrapped up in pretty dress.

Hell she wanted to date her!

The moment Amber entered the cafeteria, her heart stopped. She saw her.

God she was even prettier in person. Laughing in mid conversation with Frostbite—Rachel, chatting about god knows what. 

Elena was enjoying herself greatly. It made her smile.

Her outfit was so sweet, her smile was sung by as she laughed and her makeup made her shine.

Amber pushed her hair out of face walking over to the pair who sat at the table, chatting about they’re active services. Once she got closer she heard them a lot clearer.

“Oh stop it!” Elena said mid laugh waving her hand, “You’re the one who got her first air to air kill last week. You should be overjoyed! It’s amazing.”

“Ok it’s not as cool as you! Yeah sure, Jenny and Wraith encouraged me to do it but still.” Rachel added with a chuckle, “You have been to so many different places. That’s awesome.”

Both girls acknowledge her walking over to them.

Frost smiled sheepishly and chuckles, “Hey, have you met Elena? She’s new.”

“No, I haven’t.” Amber repiled with a soft smile turning to the blonde, “Hi.”

“Hey.” Elena said with a smile, “Nice dress.”

“T-thanks. So is yours, I love the pattern!”

“Thank you! I got it from H&M, big sale last month.”

Rachel got a phone call and realized it was one of their friends, excusing herself as she left with a small wave. That left both women to stand there awkwardly chuckling, before Elena realized what her was name again. She remembered her brother telling that her that his girlfriend worked here in the building.

She assumed this was her? But she could be wrong.

So she smiled pointing to the seat in front of her and said, “Sit. Please. Sorry I’m a little nervous, which is rare because I’m not like this.”

“It’s fine, I’m nervous too. Jake has told me about you.” Amber repiled with a smile, sitting down across from her. 

“Ohhh! You’re his girlfriend? I’m sorry, he didn’t even show me a picture of you, just told me your name. He just told me that I’ll probably bump into you today.”

“Hahaha! He told me the same thing, he can silly sometimes.”

“No, he can be an idiot sometimes.”

Both girls chuckled breaking the ice a bit.

“He just said, ‘hey since your coming here for the weekend! Come meet my girlfriend.’ That’s all he said.” Elena explained with a chuckle, “I was supposed to be here last week but my boss decided to change my schedule.”

“No, it’s okay! Things happen, my schedule ain’t always the clearest either. Literally Jake just threw that information at me last night so casually. I was freaking out…I mean, you sound cool according him.” Amber repiled as she shyly smile.

Elena found it cute. How did her brother get a someone like her? She seemed so sweet and honestly pretty nice. She felt bad she didn’t get information from her baby brother beforehand, she was completely clueless about this girl.

But it a good thing in her opinion, a clean slate.

“Sounds like him, she tends to tell people stuff and never make himself clear. He’s like a bird strike, I guess.” Elena said with a smile, thinking about all the times her little brother messed up.

“Oh your correct. He knocks someone off course and brings you along for the right. But it’s a nice ride.” Amber added thinking about something and smile, “How about we start over?”

“How so?”

“It’s kinda been a long week for us and I think we should just relax..”

“I like that. Actually I love that! Good idea.”

Amber smiled holding out her hand for the blonde to shake and said, “Hi, I’m Amber Nic Kazansky. Very nice to meet you, Ms. Seresin.”

“Haha! Nice to meet you too, Ms. Kaz—” Elena replied, stopping herself realizing what she just heard and laughed, “Wait! Kazansky?! You’re the Admiral’s daughter?”

“Hahaha yes. Why? I’m sorry that last name kinda surprises people.”

“Surprises people?! How did-? No offense, but i thought the admiral’s kid would have guards nearby or something…sorry.”

It was Elena’s turn to become shocked and a bit nervous but excited all at the same time.

She didn’t know her baby brother was dating the admiral’s kid?! For how long, she didn’t know. He aimed high! Respectfully, she would date an admiral’s kid too if they let her. Even steal her brother’s girlfriend off his hands!

She was impressed. Very impressed.

Amber chuckled, “It’s okay. People like to make rumors around here.”

“Real question, how did my brother pull you? No offense, but he’s a little stupid.” Elena replied with a laugh.

“I guess I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Oh I like you.”

“Hahaha, the Seresin siblings are one of a kind.”

“And clearly my brother has good taste in women. He got it from me! Where do you work?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing!”

“You first.”

“Okay um. I’m a training officer for recruitment here. I overlook plenty of paperwork for research, send people on missions and organize them.”

“Lieutenant, huh? Respect. I’ll love to see your office some time.”

“What about you?”

“Oh! I work as a lead engineer at the aerospace engineering firm.”

“Wait! Really? That’s so damn so cool.”

“Thanks! I worked on designing cutting-edge aircraft with advanced maneuvering capabilities. All kind of planes.”

“How have we not met before?”

“I have no idea.”

“My uncle Mav, he was the one to worked with you guys for a project a while back. Uh, The Darkstar projects?”

“Yes! That was him?! Everyone was talking about it! He reached so high on the list that day and survived being ejected.”

Both girls laughed, kept chatting and smiling the whole time.

Amber decided to walk her around the building and probably head out to lunch later on. Elena smiled liking that idea very much, holding the door for her as they walked out of the room. Realizing they had nothing to worry about, it was all Jake’s fault that they were so nervous in the first place.

Little did they know Jake Seresin was sitting across the room with Rachel, Javy and Neil watching the whole thing, with his jaw on the floor. He glad they didn’t hate each other or anything but he wasn’t expecting for it to go so well.

Neil was laughing at his reaction and muttering, “Your screwed now.”

“W-what just happened?” Jake asked, sipping his glasses of a water.

Rachel snorted, “I think your sister just stole your girl. Honestly i don’t blame Amber, she’s cool. I’ll date her.”

That was when Jenny walked in with a smirk hearing her and asked, “Who would you date, Frosty?”

“Uh huh? What? Shut up, I’mma shut up now.” Rachel said, rested her head on her shoulder.

“Weirdo.” Jenny repiled with a scoff, grins at Javy and asks, “What we talking about?”

Javy grinning back and chuckles, “The Seresin siblings.”

“I made a huge mistake letting my sister and girlfriend meet, didn’t I?” Jake added downing his drink with a sigh.

His friends just laughed.

Thanks for reading this one! Tell me what did you think about it?

Remember to like, comment and share ✈���

Tags: @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @hanlueluver @gcthvile @topgun-imagines @hangmanbrainrot @sherloquestea @rooster-84 @whitewiccan @msrochelleromanofffelton @buckysteveloki-me @djs8891 and etc

[bradshawsvinyl]

Game Changer: Chapter Three

warnings: mentions of cheating, brad brad is adorable

Bradley Bradshaw woke up on Sunday morning with an aching headache. Thanks to the bottle of Scotch he had last night, he had also woken up with the urge to puke all over his San Diego condo. This has been Bradley’s morning routine ever since his very public divorce with Hollywood movie star Alyssa Moore.

Alyssa had cheated on Bradley with world famous actor Idris Elba. Their divorce was all over the tabloids and frankly, Bradley felt embarrassed and upset over the news being everywhere.

His conversation with Jake in the locker room last night made him realize something. The best way to get over one person was to get under another one. And who better to get under than the Padres new clubhouse reporter.

Bradley asked Alexandra out because he wanted to get over his ex wife. He decided to take a quick shower before hopping in his Bronco and driving to the address you had texted him last night.

Alexandra anxiously paced around her apartment while her roommate Giliana watched from afar. “What if this is just platonic and I'm making this out to be something it isn’t?” She pondered out loud.

Giliana placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You never know until you try.” She said encouragingly. “You look great and if it’s just platonic, so be it. At least you have an ally in the clubhouse now.”

Giliana was right, Alexandra realized. If things went bad it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And if they went good…well you’d think about that later.

As Bradley arrived at the address Alexandra texted him, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. It had been so long since he’d dated someone new and although he was trying to get over Alyssa he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. After all, Alexandra was going to have to interview him throughout the season. He climbed out of his Bronco and knocked on your door.

Inside the apartment, Alexandra’s heart skipped a beat as she heard Bradley knock. “It’s just drinks with a coworker.” Giliana reminded her “Just breathe.”

As she opened the door, her eyes met Bradley’s. It might have sounded silly but she felt like time had stood still. She could sense Bradley’s anticipation in the air. He offered her a soft smile.

“Hi Bradley,” She greeted him with a warm smile. Her voice tinged with excitement and nervousness.

“Hey Alexandra,” Bradley replied with the same amount of anticipation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let’s go.” With that, Bradley led Alexandra to his car. He opened her door and delicately adjusted her seat. As Bradley and Alexandra settled in the car, a comfortable silence enveloped them. Alexandra couldn’t help but to steal quick glances at Bradley, noticing the way the streetlights cast a warm glow on his sharp features.

Once they reached the bar, Bradley quickly went to open her door and lead her inside. Once they sat down and ordered their drinks, Bradley decided to break the silence. “So Alexandra,” he began, “how long have you been covering sports?”

“Professionally I've been covering sports for about five years now.” She answered, voice tinged with excitement. “How’s the season shaping up for the Padres?” She asked in return.

Bradley smiled grateful for her interest in his job. When he was with Alyssa, the last thing she wanted to hear about was baseball. Alyssa would not even bother to go to Bradley’s games or listen to his remarks about a particularly stressful game.

Even though Bradley had just met Alexandra he felt a strange connection to her. She was genuinely kind and caring and he had only known her for two days. Her interactions with his manager and his teammates showed that she actually cared not only about the sport, but about the players.

“Spring training was a rollercoaster.” Bradley laughed. “But I'm hanging in there. I’ve got a great team and great people around me to motivate and encourage me, you know?” He said while taking a bite out of your shared fries.

As Bradley and Alexandra continue their conversation, the dim lights around the bar cast a warm glow on them. The hums of chatter and the clinking of glasses seem to fade into the background. Their eyes meet, locking in. Filled with unspoken words and attraction. Bradley’s heart races with anticipation as he leans in, his breath mingling with Alexandra���s in the small space between them.

Gently, Bradley cupped her upper cheek and his thumb tracing her jawline. He closed the space between them. The moment their lips meet it feels as though time stands still.

reply to be added to tag list 🩷🩷

[beaumars]

In The Night - Prologue - J. Seresin

WOAH! We made it! The brainchild that contains so much love for the TGM fandom is finally here!! I'm so excited for you guys to meet my OC and join her journey in this universe.

DISCLAIMERS: While I want to be as accurate as possible, I also took some artistic liberties regarding the military, so if something throws you off, that's me and my little imagination at work. THIS WILL BE THE SLOWEST OF BURNS! It may seem fast-paced in the next chapter, but I swear I just want to build a relationship based on friendship and trust between Jake and Sloane.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This chapter talks about grief, minor character death, separation, and children going through shit at an early age.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

THIS IS -- FOR THE MOST PART -- NOT PROOFREAD.

***

0. PROLOGUE

“You think Bowie will like this, mom?”

The older woman looked away from the tree she was decorating to smile at her daughter who held up a handmade Christmas card filled with glitter and tinsel, her hands sticky from the overuse of bottled glue. 

“I think he will, what do you think Beau?” She turned to say to her husband. The tall and stoic man sat on his recliner reading a book and looked up briefly, his wife nudging her gaze over to the little eleven-year-old girl. His eyes went towards his little girl, a small twitch in his lips at the craft in her hands.

“He will, Sloane.” 

The little girl looked down at her feet. She whispered a thanks and ran off to her room. Beau Simpson went back to his book until he heard a small cough. He looked up once again and saw  his wife with her arms crossed. 

“What?”

“What do you mean what, Beau? You could be a little more enthusiastic,” she whispered to him.

“I told her he would like it, what more is there to say?”

Marine Corps Colonel Reina Sanchez huffed and squared her shoulders, “he’s coming back in a week, Beau. Is this what the entirety of his leave – of our leave is going to look like? I mean– the boy barely comes home for holidays anymore! We can't coordinate anything and the one year he decides to come home to be with his family you get like this.”

Commodore Beau Simpson let out a heavy sigh as he put his book down on the coffee table in front of him and stood up to his full height. As he was about to open his mouth he saw a little head peeking out from the corner of the hallway, Reina followed his line of sight and her shoulders sagged and her arms dropped to her sides.

“Come on out, Sloane,” Beau commanded. The little girl timidly stepped out from her hiding spot as the older man waved her over to his side. Once she reached him, he crouched down to her height and put his hands on her shoulders, “I think Bowie is going to absolutely love your Christmas card.”

Her eyes lit up like the lights on the tree behind her, “you really think so, daddy?”

“Absolutely–” Beau and Reina looked at each other as the doorbell rang. Surely their son wasn’t planning on surprising them early. 

They wouldn’t get the chance to dwell hard on the probability as Sloane ran towards the door shouting her brother’s name, her parents trailing behind her. Beau would never admit but his heart jumped at the thought of seeing his son earlier than expected.

Sloane reached the door and practically ripped it off the hinges trying to open it, just to be disappointed to see it wasnt Bowie. Instead, two men were dressed in the fancy uniforms she recognized when her brother graduated from Marine Corps boot camp, “you’re not Bowie…”

Sloane felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and she looked up at her father’s face, stone cold. 

“Commander Simpson? Colonel Sanchez?” asked the older of the two men. 

With a shaky breath Reina responded, “that would be us.”

The younger man made eye contact with Sloane and let out a watery smile as his companion spoke, “I’m Gunnery Sergeant James Reeves, on behalf of the United States Marine Corps, we regret to inform you that your son, Corporal Beau Simpson Junior, was killed in action during his deploy-”

Sloane couldn’t hear anything else as her father’s hand on her shoulder became uncomfortably tight. So tight, in fact, he would have left bruises if Sloane hadn’t whispered, “daddy, you're hurting me…”

Beau looked down at the little girl with tears in her eyes, he immediately let go and tensed his hand as he turned back to the pair of men. The younger man spoke up, “I’m Sergeant Thomas Pierce, sir. I was your son’s friend…”

Behind her, Sloane heard her mother begin to sob, “my baby! Not my baby boy! Please!” 

Beau turned to catch his wife before she could fall to the floor. He turned his head to face the two men and that was all they needed to turn and leave. Sloane was staring at the men leaving when the young Sergeant turned back and briskly walked back and kneeled in front of Sloane. He pulled out a small trinket from his midnight coat and held his hand out for the girl. Thomas grabbed one of her hands with both of his gloved ones and enclosed the small object between their hands, “your brother wanted to give this to you for Christmas. He talked a lot about you. I had hoped we would meet under better circumstances, kid.”

Sloane looked down at her hands to inspect the cold piece of metal, “it’s called an E-G-A; an eagle, globe, and anchor. He got it after his crucible. He said you would like it.”

Sloane traced the bird at the top of the stack, “i love it…”

Thomas got up and walked away, his footsteps blending in with her mother’ sobs, her father’s attempts to calm her, and her own small beating heart. 

– – – 

“You look pretty, mom.”

Reina looked down at Sloane as she adjusted the ribbons on her blues. With a watery smile she moves her hand to stroke her daughter’s face, “you look prettier, baby.”

“Thanks,” Sloane sniffled. 

Reina uses the hand she stroked Sloane’s face and places it gently behind the girl’s head to pull her into an embrace, “He was supposed to come home today.”

Sobs racked the girl’s body and Reina couldn’t help but shed a quick tear before holding on tighter to her child. Beau walks into the embrace and places his hand gently on Sloane’s head, a common act since the day. 

“If you think about it this way, he is back with us, he’s just gonna rest for a while,” Beau reasoned. But what does reasoning matter to a little girl whose emotions were as big and complicated as grief? 

“But I want him awake, dad!–”

“We all want him to be awake, Sloane–”

“You’re lying! That’s why you always fought with Bowie!—”

Reina attempted to butt in,“Sloane, honey. Listen to your dad–” 

But the girl was showing the infamous stubborn trait that carries in every generation of a Simpson, “It’s the truth!”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” he warned as the two of them engaged in a face-off, who would break first? The grieving father with unresolved feelings about his son or the grieving sister who would lose out on her built-in mentor for the rest of her life?

Sloane challenged her father, “or what dad?”

“That’s Commander to you.”

A silence befell the newly established family of three.

“Beau…” Reina whispered. 

Beau Simpson exhaled and shut his eyes for a few seconds, “I’ll be in the car.”

With an empty bitterness he expected out of a seasoned veteran, Sloane responded, “yes, sir.”

Beau opened his eyes and a flash of hurt passed his eyes, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Reina. He had no fight left in him at that moment, so he chose to walk away instead. 

Sloane let out a shaky breath as her mother grabbed her arm to turn and face her, “you need to be patient with your dad, mi cielo. Different people deal with things in different ways. We are dealing with this in our own ways. Your anger towards him doesn’t make you right in this situation.”

“You heard the commander,” Sloane uttered.

Reina once again sighed and pulled her daughter towards her again, “we are allowed to be angry, but this feeling will pass. You shouldn’t have to deal with this at your age, but life works in mysterious ways, baby girl.”

Sloane was still dealing with her anger. An anger that would grow and fester for years to come, but for now, she let it roll off her shoulders for her mother, “he’s waiting for us in the car.”

– – – 

The ceremony went by as one would expect, words were said, tears were shed, flags were folded. The same Sergeant from a week ago, Thomas, handed the flag to Reina. It took everything for the colonel to not lose it like she did a week ago, she started to outwardly breathe in rapid bursts. Sloane thought that it looked like barking, and she would’ve made fun of her mom for the silly thing if it weren't for the fact that Sloane chose to imitate her in hopes of stopping herself from sobbing. 

It wasn’t until they were lowering her brother into the ground that Sloane let her emotions win. She started running and wanted to throw herself into the pit but a pair of arms caught her and started dragging her back. She proceeded to claw and scream for her brother, the body trying its hardest to hold her thrashing body still. People were looking at her but she couldn’t care less, they were putting her brother away and no one was stopping them. 

The body that held her was moving her as far away from the burial as possible. In the distance that was being created she saw her parents with emotionless faces as they lowered their son into the ground. The only semblance of shared feelings was their joined hands. A man in a uniform similar to her father’s walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder. She noticed he was blonde and had more ribbons than her dad. 

Sloane kept thrashing, she wanted to be in there, or at least she believed she deserved to be there, with him, with Bowie. Her struggle felt like it had gone on for hours when it was only really a minute. They reached the parked cars when the body holding her started audibly sobbing, she stiffened her body and turned towards her captor. A man she might have confused for her dad if you saw him from behind. A man that loved her like she was his own. Her father was his spitting image. But he wore a uniform much like her mom’s. 

A man she hasn’t seen in over a year, Brigadier General Benjamin Simpson, was as distraught as his niece, but with a water logged laugh he said, “you’ve been eating your vegetables, kid.”

– – –

Back at home, bodies were fluttering about. Some offered condolences and others were talking in hushed tones looking at Sloane, who sat at the edge of the couch closest to the recliner. Bowie’s corner. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of slacks next to her, followed by a hand lowering to her eyeline, revealing a plate filled with meat, cheese, and fruit.

Sloane looked up for the owner of the hand, and a soft smile left the lips of one of the most hardened men. Uncle Ben was her favorite person besides her brother, but right now she just wanted to shut the world out. 

Ben sighed, placed the plate down on the coffee table, and perched himself on the edge of the couch, “you gotta eat something, Sloane.”

“‘M not hungry,” she mumbled, fixing her unfocused gaze upon the unfinished Christmas tree. 

“M’kay,” he relented. 

“...You’re supposed to be in Virginia.”

“Yeah… But my family needed me.”

“Hm.”

They sat there for a while until her stomach rumbled, she looked back up at her uncle who happened to be already looking at her. She let out a quiet laugh and reached towards the plate for a grape. Ben softly smiled and ruffled her hair as she slowly chewed the fruit. She took another grape after a minute, as she was finishing her grape she heard footsteps coming near. She looked up and saw her dad and the blonde man from earlier. Her uncle stood up and saluted the man, “Iceman.”

Iceman returned the salute with a solemn smile, “Zeus.” As the men’s arm return to their side Iceman leans over to notice the little girl who stopped chewing her grape, “and who is this little one?”

Sloane stood up and held her hand out for the older man, “Sloane Simpson, sir. ”

Beau smiles for the first time in a week as Iceman goes to shake her hand, “nice to meet you, Sloane.”

Sloane looked at her dad, Beau nodded and she turned her head back to the blond, “you as well, sir.”

“And how old are you, Smaller Simpson?”

She smiled for a quick second before going back to her reclusive demeanor, “eleven, I turn twelve next month.”

“Oh wow, twelve is a serious age.”

“It’s gonna get more serious after that.”

Iceman laughs, “yes it will. Yes it will.”

Her uncle then drew the two men into meaningless conversation, a distraction Iceman was willing to partake in for the sake of his brother in arms and office work. 

But Sloane kept staring at him as he talked with the Simpson Brothers. Iceman felt her gaze, looked down at her and kindly asked, “can I help you, Sloane Simpson?”

“Why do they call you, Iceman?”

Iceman begins to laugh and slowly Zeus and her dad begin to join. Nothing boisterous, it blends in with the chatter going around, “because of the way I fly, kid. Ice cold, no mistakes.”

“Hm. You fly like my dad and Uncle Ben?” 

“I used to. I find myself in the office more often than not nowadays.”

“What’s flying like?” she presses. 

Iceman raises his eyebrow in curiosity as he looks over to Ben who is smiling at her. Beau, however, has his jaw clenched and a sad look flashes across his face.

He finds that the girl’s gaze didn’t waver from him and he begins to clear his throat as he addresses the question deflecting at what may become a sensitive topic, “I haven’t flown in a while, Sloane. I think your dad and uncle here can explain it more than I can.”

Ben is about to open his mouth when Beau beats him to it, “As long as I live you’re not touching a jet, kid.”

“Why not?”

Beau just fixes her with a stare and her attitude from earlier comes back tenfold, yet quieter this time around, “sorry, commander.”

Sloane walks away to the backyard to escape the sudden stuffiness of her home. 

Meanwhile, Beau releases a shaky sigh, “I just– I don't know. I–”

Iceman places a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s years down the line, I can't risk losing another one.”

Ben grabs his brother’s arm and gives it a squeeze, “yeah, but trying to stop it before it starts might just make it worse.”

– – –

Living in the Point Loma area meant Sloane was no stranger to the sound of commercial planes taking off and landing from the nearby airport, so it felt weird not to have any go by that day. As if the universe was delaying the sound for her brother’s absence. That and everyone knew flights didn’t take off late at night in San Diego. So she just kept staring at the darkening sky, thinking of her brother, and the christmas card she never got to give him. The backdoor slid open and a few footsteps were heard, but like earlier, she chose to wait until they announced themselves. She already recognized one of the sets anyway, she could only infer who the other person was. 

“Sloane, Iceman wanted to say goodbye.”

As she looked away from the sky, the familiar boom of a plane engine was heard overhead, she held up a finger to the sky and as the plane went farther the noise became less, “sorry, plane overhead.”

The blonde superior smiled and extended his hand to the girl, “It was lovely to meet you, Sloane Simpson.”

“You as well, sir.”

“And if you ever need anything, whether it’s from me or the Navy, you let me know. And if someone gets in your way, you tell ‘em Tom Kazansky said otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iceman smiled at the girl, turned to Beau and nodded his head, “Cyclone.”

“Sir,” Beau nodded back. 

The father and daughter watched the commanding officer walk away and disappear behind the doors leading into to the house. They stood there for a while, looking at the sky, just breathing in sync, the events of recently passing through them. 

The backdoor slid open again, and there was Ben, “come into the house, both of you! You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

– – –

Three months passed but it still felt like it was yesterday that the sergeants came to their front door.

Ben had been reassigned to a new permanent station up in Miramar, which meant he was around more. Meanwhile, Reina and Beau found that they started talking to each other behind closed doors a lot more than normal couples should. They tell themselves it’s to shield Sloane from what they talk about, but everyone in the household knew it was a ruse. Because that’s all a closed door is, it’s just closed. Sound travels well when you’re a nosy twelve-year-old sticking your ear to a door. 

“What are you trying to say, Beau?”

“He would still be here!” He whisper-yelled. 

“I went to the academy just like you! Tell me, please, what example I set for him.”

“The Marines–”

“He chose to enlist! If you would have listened to him instead of shoving your need for legacy down his throat you would have noticed that he didn’t like school!”

“He didn’t even give it the old college try.”

“Oh please be real with yourself, Beau! Would you have let him drop out if he wanted to? Or would you have done the same thing you did when he joined and made it your mission to forget he existed as a Simpson, as your son.”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t what, remind you of how you neglected him for three months when he needed us most? He’s lucky he had your brother, Sloane, and I! Do you know how hard and taxing that training can be? And away from those you love most? To be broken down and built back up? And to become a singular entity giving yourself as property and being grouped with stereotypes because of what you decided to pursue? He did it for YOU, Beau! He wanted to prove that he can take the hardships without counting on our academy legacy! He just wanted to set his own path, Beau. You can’t blame him for doing what he thought would impress you.”

“Look where it got him, Reina!”

A choked sob is heard, some shuffling steps, and small ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean that’s’. 

Tears were streaming down Sloane’s face as anger coursed through her veins. Her dad had no right to blame her mom for Bowie’s death. But she recalled her conversation with her mom three months ago, where she told Sloane that different people deal with things in different ways. Maybe her dad’s way was to blame her mom. Maybe Sloane’s way was to blame her dad. 

Before she could dwell any further on those thoughts an arm went around her waist and a hand clapped over her mouth. 

“Shh,” he said, “follow me.”

Ben slowly released his niece and walked off to the living room of the home. 

“How’d you get in?” Sloane wondered.

“Just because you live in a relatively safe area of town doesn’t mean you can put your spare key in a relatively stupid place for all other people to see,” he explained.

“Okay, but why are–”

Ben puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, “Mm, no. It's my turn to ask a question: what were you doing eavesdropping?”

Sloane looked down, truly ashamed to be called out by the one person she truly believed was in her corner, “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you apologizing to me for? I’m not the one whose privacy you invaded.”

Sloane just swallowed the lump in her throat, “...they were really good at hiding it for a couple weeks after the funeral, but on my birthday I went looking for them so that we could cut the cake. I heard the yelling. I couldn’t stop listening since then.”

Ben softened and held his arms out as the girl hiccupped her way through her words, “oh, Sloane.”

She rushed into his arms. As much as she loved her uncle, at that moment she wanted it to be someone else holding her. Someone that was gone. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Sloane felt the crown of her head become wet with her uncle’s tears. They only looked up when they heard footsteps coming down the hall. 

Reina and Beau stood as far apart as the hallway would let them. Beau brought his gaze up from the floor, it was the most sad and scared Sloane has seen her father since they buried Bowie all those months ago. Reina had her arms crossed across her chest and was staring at the Christmas tree that she didn’t have the heart to put away. 

“Come sit with me, Sloane,” Beau tempted as he walked towards his recliner. He sat down and patted the armrest when he noticed she didn’t leave her uncle’s arms. Slowly, and hesitantly, she made her way over. She sat down on the ledge and her father pulled her into his arms and cradled, as if she was a newborn, “thanks for being here, Ben.”

“Anytime,” the man replied.

Beau began to stroke Sloane’s hair like he did when she was smaller. Sloane felt another lump in her throat.

“You know mom and I love you so much, right?” He asked. 

Sloane nodded. 

“I need to hear you, honey.”

“Yes, sir,” she stated wearily. 

Beau drew in a sharp breath, knowing that she was still hurt by his past comment. He went back to stroking her hair, “then please believe me and your mom when we say this has nothing to do with you, okay?”

Sloane sat up from Beau’s embrace, “what are you talking about?”

Beau and Reina shared a glance, the woman giving a single heavy nod before she spoke up, “Sloane, baby. You’re dad and I think it’s best for everyone involved if we… took some time apart from each other.”

“What?” Sloane immediately stood up from her father’s hold, and for a slight moment his arms chased his little girl, wishing that this never had to happen. He saw the light in her eyes die, and he thought to himself if that’s what he looked like when his son said he was enlisting. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! you’ll still see me and dad but things are going to look and feel different–”

Sloane turns to her uncle, “is that why you’re here?”

“Sloane–”

“Don’t lie to me!” She yelled. 

There was a tense second before Sloane bolted for the front door and made it in time before anyone could block her. A chorus made up of her name was heard behind her as she ran down the street with no specific direction. She just ran. And ran. And ran and ran and ran. 

Back home, Ben ran back to the worried parents, “I can’t tell what street she went down, I’ll get in my car to look for her.”

“Good idea. I’m gonna call Ice and stay here in case she decides to come back,” Beau said walking back into the house. 

As Ben started his car he heard a knock on his window. He looked over to see a tearful Reina, he rolled down the window and she spoke up, “can I tag along?”

Ben nodded and unlocked the doors. As she settled in he pulled off the curb and began driving. 

After a long moment of silence and driving every surrounding block Ben spoke up, “can I be candid with you, right now?”

Reina sniffled, “sure.”

“Why now?” he questioned.

“What do you mean?” She asked as she played with the hem of her shirt. 

“I mean why now? I know I'm never going to understand because I don’t have a kid of my own but this is easier for you,” he explained, albeit vaguely.

“I don't understand.”

Ben pulled into a free spot along the curb, parked his car, and looked at his sister-in-law, “I mean why now? I understand if it’s hard for you and Beau, shit, I know he’s a stubborn piece of shit I grew up with him for christ sake but that little girl that just ran out of the living room and onto the streets of San Diego has no one. I sacrificed my connection with her because of my brother. She doesn't have a brother anymore, Reina. And now she doesn’t have a stable relationship at home. And instead of seeking the help to slowly introduce her to the idea, you rip off the band aid? There is a little girl running around out there who is losing everything in front of her eyes at too fast of a rate. So I'll ask you this right now because Beau isn’t here, why?”

Reina didn’t have an answer. 

– – – 

“What was she wearing?” He asked as he scanned his surrounding areas. 

On the other side of the line, Beau pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, “ Uh, She was– she was wearing a light-gray long sleeve and black jeans. With black converse.”

“Got it. I’ll call you with updates,” Ice ended the call and kept driving. 

After an hour and no sign of the girl anywhere, he breathed deeply, and parked along the cliffside side viewing area. Tom Kazansky enjoyed the San Diego sunsets, he claimed that there was probably nowhere else in the contiguous United States that had prettier sunsets than San Diego. As he admired the setting sun he noticed a very young person wearing a gray-long sleeve and black jeans sitting on the bench admiring the same view. 

He slowly got out of his car and made his way toward the girl. He shot a text to the worried commander before he reached Sloane:

Found her. All fine. Don’t rush, I’ll take her home. Let me talk to her. 

“With black converse,” he smiled as he stood next to her. Iceman looked back out to the horizon and took a seat on the empty portion of the bench. 

“This is my favorite bench,” he said after a moment.

“Really?” her eyes slowly panning to pay attention to him. 

“No,” he stated, causing Sloane to chortle, “But it got you to laugh, didn’t it?” 

Sloane just nodded.

“So what’s up? Your dad called me worried saying you ran away,” at the mention of his commander her face soured, “what’d he do?”

“Can I tell you a secret, Iceman?” she asked with big wide eyes, unbeknownst to her, the last time she would let anyone see her that way. 

“My lips are sealed, Sloane Simpson,” he dragged his pointer and thumb across his lips and threw his ‘key’ far into the pacific ocean. 

“My parents are getting a divorce,” she threw out, “they say they’re gonna separate but I know what’s really gonna happen.”

Ice sat up straighter and looked back out to the ocean, where the sun was slowly making its way further out, and hiding behind the horizon, “oh wow. That must be hard.”

“It is. My brother just died and my parents are no longer going to be together. Is the rest of my life going to be this hard?” she whimpered.

Iceman reveled in the last sliver of sun as it disappeared behind the horizon, “I wish I could genuinely answer that question for you, kid.”

“But if you could?” she prodded.

Iceman thought for a bit and gave a big exhale, “I would say that the more life wants to throw at you, the stronger you are. The cruel mistress herself wouldn’t attempt to tear you down if she didn’t see something worth tearing.”

Sloane began to sniffle but Iceman continued, “but contrary to popular belief, we should take care of ourselves when she deals devastating blows. That way, when she comes back to deal another blow she sees we have built ourselves higher and thicker.”

“Can I tell you something else?”

“Of course you can,” he obliged.

The girl fiddled with her fingers for a while, finding the courage to admit whatever she was thinking about to her dad’s boss. When she finally spoke the familiar black and blue of the night surrounded them, with the waves crashing against the cliffs beneath her, “I want to–”

A plane flew by overhead, she looked up and pointed up to it and waited for it to pass by before she looked at him, “Fly.”

[seresinsbabe]

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc!Kazansky

Synopsis: She’s Admiral Kazansky’s only child. She’s beautiful, she’s smart and she’s off limits. Anastasia Kazansky is everything Jake Seresin wants and can’t have.

Warnings: Angst, eventual smut 18+, fluff. Warnings will be added depending on chapter contents.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Inbox me to be added to the tag list.

[whiskeyswriting]

Wildest Dreams

{ An AU fic for Hangman x Cinco }

To read the Squad’s reaction to finding out the truth: check out: Spicy’s call to Jake; Lucky’s FaceTime call; and Birdie’s Anger

******

“Push! Push! Push!” Alana could hear what the doctor was telling her but the exhaustion of the last ten hours made it hard to do what she needed. Nobody was there to help her. Then again she went into labor two months earlier than expected.

Baylie and Mickey were deployed. 

Grace and Bradley had gone on a second honeymoon.

“One more push and you can rest.”

SEVEN TO EIGHT MONTHS AGO

It has been a couple of months of secret hookups with Jake after he and his girlfriend, Sydney, had broken up. Having become friends after the uranium mission, Alana was there for Jake throughout his relationship with Sydney and eventually their breakup.

Neither had planned on getting together, but they did after a night of drinking with the rest of the Dagger Squad. It was just a one-time thing, they both agreed. Only that, it turned into friends with benefits. 

They managed to keep it a secret for a couple of months. The only time anyone suspected anything was going on between them was the night everything changed. The night of the Navy Awards.

Jake decided it would be best if they carpooled with some of the other members of the squad. So Alana made her way to the base and met up with Jake, Baylie, Mickey, Grace, and Bradley at the rec room. 

The girls are quick to hug her and have her spin in her dress. “Wow! You’re looking so beautiful!” Grace tells her.

“Got any plans for later? I’m happy to drop Mickey for you,” Baylie says winking.

Alana blushes. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s not enough. That dress will find you a husband. Hey, maybe some admiral or captain will scoop you up,” Baylie teases.

Jake ignores them and glances at his watch. “We should get going.” Bradley and Mickey each take their girl’s hand in theirs and lead the way to the limousine. Jake keeps his hand on Alana’s lower back.

Once they arrive at the venue, they all go their separate ways. Eventually, they are all seated together, as the majority of them would be receiving medals. The only ones at their table to not receive one were Alana and Grace.

The ceremony moves along pretty quickly and soon comes the drinking and dancing. Alana mostly sat and watched everyone. Jake had been chatting with Admiral Kazansky and Vice Admiral Simpson. His smile was huge when he returned. 

Instead of sitting, he offered Alana his hand so they could dance. The DJ had been playing a few upbeat songs in a row. As they danced and laughed, the music changed into a slow song. Dance With You by Brett Young begins to play and Alana moves to go sit down but Jake holds her hand. “Is one slow song going to kill you?”

“No. But people might get ideas.”

“Let them. We’re just two single friends enjoying a dance.”

“Right. Two single friends,” Alana repeats, her cheeks warm from embarrassment, thinking he would maybe officially ask her out.

After the song finished, they returned to the table, only to find their friends smirking at them. 

“What’s with the smirks?” Jake asks.

“You tell us,” Baylie replies.

“We’re just two single friends enjoying a party with drinks that the Navy is paying for,” Alana says quickly. “So tell, me again who do I bribe to get a shiny medal like that?” She teases in order to change the topic.

The evening soon becomes midnight and they all decide it’s time to go home to rest. The only ones to not go home were Jake and Alana. They headed to a downtown hotel to spend the night together. 

He said, "Let's get out of this town

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds"

I thought Heaven can't help me now

Nothing lasts forever

But this is gonna take me down

FIVE MONTHS AGO

She was pacing along her hallway as she waited for the timer to go off. Before she could hear the timer, her stomach betrays her. Alana runs to the bathroom, for the third time that morning, with intense waves of nausea hitting and she throws up into the toilet. 

Alana knew she had to tell Jake. She knew he deserved to know the truth. She recalled their last night together. It had been their most passionate night of pleasure for the both of them. When she woke up alone the next morning, there was a note on the pillow saying he’d see her later.

Hours later, he showed up at her house. He had gotten a call from Sydney. They were going to try and work things out and get back together again. Then he dropped the bomb: Sydney was a few months pregnant. After that day, Alana didn’t get many chances to talk to him, as he got deployed overseas. 

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha

Wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha

The timer rings and she looks at the tests. Three positive pregnancy tests were staring back at her. This wasn’t in her plan. Sure she wanted to be a mother. But she never wanted to be a single mother. She lets herself cry for a few minutes before going to get her phone and trying to call Jake. 

She calls and calls. No answer. She send him a few texts to please call her but they all say “Not Delivered”. 

The next person she calls is her physician, whom she asks to go in for an appointment for that day. Once the doctor confirmed that yes she is pregnant, Alana called out sick the next day. She didn’t have the luxury of just resting. She found herself spending more time throwing up than anything.

FOUR MONTHS AGO

She made it past her first trimester so she knew she needed to tell her friends. Alana scoured through Pinterest to get ideas but there were so many she couldn’t decide. But then she spotted a food-related one, just in time for her turn to host their next movie night.

The day passed by quickly and soon the two couples arrived for movie night. Bradley and Mickey kept trying to set her up with other pilots but she always turned them down. She knew no reasonable pilot would want to date a pregnant plus-size woman that was their superior.

Alana had the boxes of pizza and donuts ready. Her plan was to have Grace and Baylie each open one of the boxes. The squeals are loud and they both run to hug her. 

Immediately the questions come out. “Who’s the father? Does he know? Can I be the Daddy?”

Alana knew she didn’t want to lie to her best friends, but she couldn’t outright tell them it was Jake. Not before she got the chance to tell him. “It was some guy… He’s no longer in my life. He doesn’t know. I’ve tried calling and texting but I think he blocked me.”

“Thank goodness it isn’t Jake’s,” Baylie said. “That night at the awards I could have sworn you guys had something going on.”

“You two were basically eye fucking each other while you were dancing,” Bradley adds as he takes a bit of his pizza.

Alana chuckles. “Yeah. That would have been… something.”

Grace notices Alana nervously playing with her bracelet. ‘What if Jake is the dad…?’ She begins to wonder. She’s distracted as she thinks back to encounters or outings they all shared and how Jake and Alana behaved together.

“Earth to Grace! We were asking you what you think the baby would be and whose last name it should have.”

“I want it to be a little girl. Imagine all the dresses and bows we’ll buy her!” The girls are soon diving deep into talks of nursery themes, colors, and baby shower themes. 

TWO MONTHS AGO

The doctor, along with Alana, was surprised that she had actually lost some weight instead of gaining. It had happened before but it wasn’t as common as the weight gain. “I guess your little one is kickstarting your metabolism.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

“So do you already have a name picked out?”

“Samantha Belle.”

“That’s a beautiful name. I know I’ve asked you but any news from the father?”

“No. But I can give you the names of those I want in the room with me.”

Alana gives the doctor the names of Baylie and Grace, as well as their phone numbers.

When she gets to the base, Baylie is waiting for Alana in her office. “Hey, Bay! What’s going on?”

“I got my papers. Mickey and I both did. We’re getting deployed tomorrow. It’s for a few months. I…” she gets choked up. “Babe… I don’t know if we’ll be back in time for the baby.”

Alana shakes her head. “No. I can fight it. I can talk to Ice…” Her eyes fill with tears.

Baylie takes her hands in hers and gives them a squeeze. “I tried babe. I even claimed it was mine to also get maternity leave… Guess it doesn’t work like that.” She then pulls her into a tight hug. “I’ll sneak out if I have to come see you.”

“I love you Baylie. Go and kick ass. I’ll tell your niece you’re being an example for her.”

TWO WEEKS AGO

“So, Bradley surprised me with a trip to Greece. For a second honeymoon!” Grace says excitedly over the phone. 

Alana can’t help the small pang of jealousy. Here was her friend going on a second honeymoon and here she was about to be a single mother.

“That’s freaking fantastic Grace!”

“I know! And we leave in a week. I know you’re still a couple of months away from having the baby but we’ll be back in time.”

“Yeah no yeah. Take your time. Enjoy your honeymoon love. And Greece! That’s just amazing!”

YESTERDAY

Alana struggled to reach for the milk container that was towards the back. “Why can’t they think of short pregnant people?” She mutters to herself. She’s about to give up when a hand reaches for the carton and places it on her cart.

“Here you go mis- Alana?” Jake asks in surprise. 

“Jake! You’re back?” Alana replies.

He nods. “Just got back last night.” His eyes widen when he sees her ever-growing stomach. “I guess congratulations are in order.” His eyes skim her left hand but there’s no ring or no tan line of one.

“Yeah. She was a complete surprise.”

“It’s a girl?” His eyes soften. “She’ll be beautiful… Do you need any help getting things?” 

“I could use some help. Baylie and Grace aren’t in town today.” Before she can say more, he puts his basket in her cart and pushes her cart.

“What about the father?”

Alana exhales slowly and winces at the pain on her side. “Oh, he doesn’t know. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve sent texts and emails, but I guess he just never cared much for me cuz I haven’t heard from him.”

“How far along are you?” 

“I’m 7 months pregnant… Forget about me. How’s Sydney and the baby?”

Jake grips the cart handles harder and makes a sudden sharp turn exiting the aisle. “She… I… She lied. It wasn’t my baby. I was there for every appointment. Every class. Only to find out she had been sleeping around on me and it wasn’t mine.”

Alana stops in her tracks and wipes at the tears in her eyes. She was so mad at Sydney for putting him through that but here she was doing all those things alone or with her friends.

While she loved her best friends dearly, it wasn’t the same as having a spouse day in and day out to support you. To help you at home. Yes, they were her found family but she would still be lonely in the nights. Her only constant companion: her unborn baby.

But also anger boiled up in her. Anger at him for ignoring her. Was she not good enough to be acknowledged as having his kid? Was she not pretty enough? Did he just use her to get off while he wasn’t with Sydney? 

“I… uhm actually I have to go home. I won’t be able to finish the shopping,” Alana says, starting to make her way to the store entrance.

“Are you sure? I can finish it for you. Just send me your list.”

“No. It’s okay. You’ll only ignore my text as you have for the last seven months!” 

Never had he seen or heard her this angry. Then his brain starts catching up with her words. Ignoring. Seven months. 

You'll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burning it down

Someday when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow you around

Alana had already reached the exit and was getting into her car. The pain on her side increases. She calls her OB and the doctor tells her to immediately go to the emergency department. 

Jake is torn between getting their groceries and going after Alana. He decides to give her time and then he’ll confront her about the baby. He goes to pay for both their groceries. By the time he made it to the parking lot, Alana was already gone. 

PRESENT

“One more push and you can rest.”

Alana grunts as she pushes once more. The sound of a baby crying fills the room. Her eyes just want to close and her body feels ready to stop. “She’s lost too much blood. We need to stop the bleeding!” That’s the last that Alana hears before she decides to just take a quick nap. 

The doctors and surgeons rush to stabilize Alana’s vitals and stop the hemorrhaging. It takes them a few minutes but they are able to get the bleeding to stop and they stitch her up. 

At the nurses station, one of the nurses is trying to call Alana’s emergency contacts. There’s no response from Baylie or Grace. The next to be called is Viper and then finally they call Dragon.

“Commander Kazansky speaking,” Rachael answers.

“Commander. We’re calling from the base hospital. Commander Metcalf is here. She went into labor early. We have called all her emergency contacts but you’re the only one that has picked up.”

“I’ll be right there.” Rachael hangs up the phone and rushes to Jade’s office. “Whiskey! Let’s go!”

Jade looks startled. “What happened?”

“Cin… She’s in the hospital.”

“Shit! I’ll call Ice from the car while you drive!”

When Alana opens her eyes again, she’s in a private hospital room. Sitting next to her were Rachael and Jade. Mama Dragon and Mama Whiskey.

“Shhh shhh. Don’t try to move much,” Jade tells her.

“Baby… Where’s the baby?”

Rachael steps out of the room and flags down one of the nurses. “Can we have someone bring the baby?”

“She’ll be coming soon, love. The doctors say she’s completely healthy,” Jade pushes some of Alana’s hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like complete shit.”

“Oh babe,” Rachael takes one of her hands. “You just went through a lot and so suddenly. Not to mention alone. You are so fucking brave.”

“No, I’m not. I couldn’t keep the baby safe for the full term,” Alana starts crying.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not brave. Every birth and body is different. Think of it like this now: you get earlier access to your baby,” Jade adds.

At that moment, one of the nurses wheels the baby’s cot into the room. “She’s sleeping now.” Alana has Rachael help her slowly sit up to carry the baby.

Jade immediately FaceTimes Grace and Baylie. “Guess who got here early?!” 

“Who?” Grace says

“Why are you waking me up from my nap?” Baylie grumbles.

Jade flips the camera to show Alana carrying the baby. 

Immediately, both Grace and Baylie are shouting and calling for Bradley and Mickey to join the call. “WIFEY! You didn’t wait for me or Grace?!”

“Baby Samantha wanted to make you hurry home,” Alana says. 

“Wait… so you replaced us with Whiskey and Dragon…? Kinda rude but I guess they’re fine,” Baylie replies. 

“Actually. We just got here a few moments ago. She had already gone into labor. Alone,” Rachael informs them.

Bradley starts shouting that he’s getting tickets to return home the next day. 

“I’ll talk to Ice and Cyclone to get you two back stateside as soon as possible,” Jade tells the other two. 

“Yeah. Okay Mama Whiskey. I’ll get our bags ready just in case,” Mickey says.

After a few more minutes of catching up and getting the details of the birth, the girls hang up with a promise to arrive as soon as possible. 

Later that afternoon, the others from the squad slowly arrive to visit Alana and meet baby Samantha. Amanda and Raven both bring armloads of gifts. Javy and Natasha brought along snacks. Ron came and dropped off some compression socks and a set of pink fluffy robes: one for Alana and one for Samantha. Tom brought Alana her hospital bag with change of clothes for her and Samantha’s going home outfit.

Once everyone left, Alana laid back down with Samantha on her chest. “Hi princess. It’s you and me right now. Your aunts aren’t here but I know they’re dying to meet you.” Samantha gives a little yawn and squirm, that brings tears to Alana’s eyes. “You’re just so beautiful. You have your daddy’s eyes. They’re a beautiful green. Oh that little scowl is all me and papaw Viper.” 

“The Metcalf scowl of disappointment,” comes a voice from the door.

Alana looks up and her heart starts racing when she sees Jake there. “Uh yeah. It’s a Metcalf trademark.”

“Alana… Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head. “Jake. I texted you. I called and left you a few voicemails. I even emailed you… You know I’d never hide the truth from you.”

Jake takes out his phone and looks through it. “You must have thought you did but you never did. I even would call you to catch up and talk but you blocked me or changed your number. Anytime I called it rang and would direct me to dial 9 to connect to a… To a sex line.”

Alana kisses the top of Samantha’s head and extends her hand. “Gimme your phone.” She manually enters her number and hits dial. “It’s saved as Spam Likely,” she says before looking up the contact. “And it’s blocked.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill her… That was Sydney. Cin… You know me. We were friends before we…” 

“Before we had sex. You can say it Jake. We both agreed that that’s all it’d ever be.”

“But it wasn’t. Not for me… Alana I fell for you. I loved you then. But I was lied to and I did what I thought was right. I still love you because I know you, Alana. Even after all these months I know you would never cruelly let me down or keep this big secret from me. I’m so, so, so sorry that you went through it alone at times. All I ask is that you let me back in. Into your life and now into our baby’s life.”

Alana sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “Jake… Meet our daughter: Samantha Belle Seresin.” She carefully hands the baby over to Jake.

When Sam feels movement, she slowly opens her eyes and coos up at the person holding her. “Hi Samantha. I’m your daddy.”

Samantha coos again and closes her eyes once more to go back to sleep.

Alana’s eyes are also struggling to stay open. Jake carefully shifts her so that she’s comfortable but where there’d be space for him to sleep next to his two girls. She didn’t know it yet, but Jake was already making plans to make them a family of three once they were discharged.

Come morning time, Alana wakes up and smiles seeing Jake reading softly to Samantha. “You changed?” She asks once she notices his blue sweatpants and his white NAVY tank top.

“Yeah I had brought a change of clothes with me. Didn’t want to leave you two.”

As she’s about to reply, energetic shouts come from down the hall. “It’s my baby and I don’t care what he thinks!”

Alana turns to look at Jake. “Ready for the firing squad?” 

He leans down and kisses her tenderly. “For you and our baby? Always.”

--

TGM 🏷List: @luckyladycreator2 @dragon-kazansky @cycbaby @callsignscupcake @gracespicybradshaw @bayisdying @askmarinaandothers @ladylanera @novagreen04 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @callmemana @stargazing15 @starlit-epiphany

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

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

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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[dakotakazansky]

Ghost • One

Previous | Master List | Next

Warnings: 18+, Fluff, Angst, lots of Dumb Bitch Juice, Some Smut

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC & Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado x OC

Word Count: 1,423

Kota

Beep. Beep. Beep. I awake to the sound of the annoying little alarm clock on the bedside table. "5am already?" I grumble to myself, before hoisting my legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up and wiping the sleep from my eyes.

I'm half tempted to just lay back down but I'm stopped by the sound of Body like a Back Road by Sam Hunt, Jake’s ringtone, as I glance down to see a photo of Jake from the Academy on my screen along with "☀️🥰" and smile softly before answering the phone.

"Hey small fry!" I hear from the very obnoxiously morning person on the other end of the line. I groan back at him as a response. "Yeah yeah yeah, I know stupid morning people" Jake says mocking my voice and personality to a T. I just let out a small grunt of a laugh seeing as this man already knows me way too well. "Kota you got 10 minutes to be ready before I'm knocking at your door for our morning run." Jake says, trying to persuade me to get ready.

"Okay, okay, fine, I'm getting up, I'm getting up to get ready now, I'll see you in 10 minutes country boy" I joke before hanging up and going to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and put my hair up into a ponytail. I throw on one of my PT uniforms from the USNA, and a windbreaker. I grab some fruit and a protein shake for a snack while filling up my water bottle waiting for Jake to show up at my door.

10 minutes later on the dot Jake is knocking on my door. "Good morning small fry," Jake says so cheerfully. "Mpfh, mornin'" I grumble back to him. "Are you ready to go?" He looks at me waiting for my answer. "No, I'd rather go back to bed, but with you around that's not humanly possible, so I guess so." He just chuckles at my non-morning personality, and we head off to do our morning jog/run.

"Are you excited for today?" He asks once we get to a steady pace in our jog. "I guess so, I mean I get to finally meet my back seater, I hope they aren't some stuck up prick, or something like that." I sigh, "It's only by the grace of whatever god is out there that we became such easy friends, I'm not too great with making friends." Jake nods along listening to me ramble, "It's just I'm afraid they all use me to get close to my dad, or they fear me because of yet again, MY DAD." I say slightly upset.

"Aww c'mon Kota, they can't all be that bad" Jake says chuckling at me. I give a look of disbelief before stating, "Well that's easy for you to say Mr. I Fly Alone." We both laugh at my joking and mimicking tone of Jake. "Race ya!" I yell to Jake before sprinting off laughing and giggling back to the barracks on base. "Now that's just not fair, small fry!" Jake yells still jogging before breaking out into a sprint to follow me.

We made it back to my barracks room, "Hey, meet you at the hangar in say an hour and a half?" I question Jake once we are at my door, "Or you can stay and shower here after me, and we could make some breakfast?" I keep a change of clothes at Jake's place and he keeps an extra change here at my place. "A shower and breakfast sounds like a wonderful idea, Moon." He replies using the nickname we gave each other in the Academy. "Haha okay Sun, I'm going to go hop in the shower, feel free to hang out, watch some cartoons or something" I mentioned jokingly while walking towards the bathroom.

Once I'm out of the shower, I change into a pair of Adidas shorts and a Navy hoodie. I wrap my hair up in my towel, before reaching into the closet to pull out another towel to hang up on the rack for Jake. I also grab his shampoo and body wash and set them into the shower, and set his deodorant out on the bathroom counter.

"The bathroom's all yours Sun." I was surprised to see the man watching Yogi Bear on my couch, and smiled happily thinking back to my childhood of watching Yogi Bear with my dad on the couch before he had to leave for base.

"Thanks Moon, I won't be long!" He says tapping me on the shoulder and walking towards the bathroom. I grab some apples, grapes and oranges, along with some eggs and turkey bacon from the fridge and start to cook the turkey bacon and eggs. I'm so into preparing the eggs and bacon I don't even notice Jake coming back into the room after his shower.

"It smells so damn good in here, Kota!" Jake exclaims before questioning, "Is there anything I can do to help?" I point to the cabinets, "You could grab us some cups and silverware and set the table while I finish cooking and plating the food." He gets right to work grabbing cups out for us, and getting our silverware. He grabs some juice out of the fridge, and before I know it, he's helping cut up the apples, and peeling the oranges.

I plate up our breakfast of eggs, turkey bacon, a handful of red and green seedless grapes each, an orange for each of us, and our cut up apple slices. "Kota I don't know what I would do without you, breakfast with you is always amazing." Jake says, while I put our plates down on the coffee table in front of the couch, so we could eat and continue to watch cartoons.

Once the cartoons were over and it had gotten closer to the time that we needed to report to the hangar, we got changed into clothing that would go under our flight suits. I decided that I would throw my hair up into two Dutch braids ending in two buns at the base of my skull. "Are you almost ready to go?" Jake calls out from the other room.

"Yeah, I'm ready, let's go meet our new Squadron!" I say excitedly as Jake and I make our way over to the hangar, where our Squadron leader and members are. Jake sits at a table in front of me, while I take one of the two empty chairs at my table.

"Welcome to VFA-151 Vigilantes." Our squadron leader says to us, "Today we will be spending the day getting to know each other, finding out our wingmen, and reviewing the F/A-18 NATOPS." I zoned out during most of the introduction of the day until I heard my name called, "Dakota Kazansky" I raised my hand so everyone knows who the name belongs to, "your WSO is Tatum Thatcher." Tatum stands up from the table she was at and moves over to take the empty seat at my table. "Dakota and Tatum, your wingman will be Jake Seresin."

Jake reaches back towards me with his palm facing, and I plant a low five into his awaiting palm. He then turns around to Tatum and I. "I'm Dakota, but you can just call me Kota" I reach out my hand to Tatum. "Tatum, but you can call me Tate" she replies, taking my hand and shaking it. "This is Jake, he seems tough and cocky, but don't let him kid ya!" I tell Tate, while pointing with my thumb at Jake.

"It's nice to meet you guys." Tate says happily. In unison Jake and I say, "the pleasure is ours." I glance over to Jake, "oh you have got to stop rubbing off on me country boy!" I say jokingly to Jake. "Hey, do either of you wanna go to the bar after this?" Jake questions. I look over to Tate who nods to Jake and I, "Sure, we can grab a drink and use this time to get to know our wingmen more!" I say excitedly.

Jake, Tate and I spent the rest of the work day helping each other memorize the F/A-18 NATOPS. I grab Tate's number and save her in my phone as "Tate ✈️". I sent her a message with my barracks room number and told her to meet us there in an hour before leaving the hangar for the day.

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[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Thirteen

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: The evening of their return the dagger squad meets at the hard deck for a celebration worthy of the mission they just finished. Ana has the chance to come clear but not everyone is in agreement with her actions. Can Jake finally get a moment alone with Ana and will Ana give him the chance to talk?

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of parental death, grieving a parent's death

Wordcount: 7.6k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. I ALSO DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THE USE OF AI IN ANY OF MY WORKS! Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: After the longer-than-anticipated break that this story took, finally the next chapter is here. The reason for the long break was me writing my thesis - as of today it is handed in and to celebrate this is getting posted! Also congratulations to everyone who voted in the poll if this would be over 10 pages. You were right, the chapter measures 15 pages in my writing document! And because I had so much fun, I decided to have some more polls going, giving you a chance to interact and influence the story a little bit. You can find the current poll here.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

Everything was different now.

Memories. Places. Her. 

Ana looked at nothing with the same eyes anymore. The world around her was coated in a different light since her father had drawn his last breath.

Even stepping into the familiar bar felt like stepping into a different world. What had not long ago been a place where she felt at home, surrounded by happy memories was now a place that left an uneasy feeling in the pits of her stomach and conjured up painful recollections. 

Every memory of her father hurt. The happy ones more so than the ones of his last moments or even the ones from his first round of treatment against the illness when it was still new. Now the joy of those moments was temporarily tainted with pain and grief. One that would never go away. It was the permanent kind, a loss never to be undone. With time it would get easier. It wouldn’t hurt less but she would learn to cope, to move on with it, with her life. But right now the pain was still as strong as the loss was fresh.

The bar was much fuller than three-ish weeks ago when she’d just arrived back in San Diego. There were patrons littering the bar and filling the many spaces inside. It was a strange sensation as if she’d somehow crossed into a parallel universe, the moment then repeating like a nightmare.

Booming music streamed out of one corner where the jukebox stood, the melody distinct even over the constant chatter of patrons. It wasn’t too busy yet, as Ana quickly spied Penny leaning with her elbows on the counter, talking calmly with none other than her godfather.

Maverick sat there at the bar on the opposite side of the counter, a half-finished beer in front of him, his fingers toyed with the edge of the glass. This time his phone was nowhere to be seen. At least he had learned from the last time. Maybe tonight Penny wouldn’t have him thrown out either. Now that things between them seemed to have come to a conclusion.

Ana was truly happy for her godfather. He’d deserved the happiness and the stability of a relationship. Penny was exactly what Maverick needed. Maybe now he’d have a chance at settling down. 

Penny’s eyes, likely sensing her spying on the two of them, landed on Ana not a moment later, mouth pausing as her lips tucked into a smile. Ana wanted to return it but her lips failed to raise.

Now that they had noticed her though, she slowly walked up to the counter. Perhaps it was a good distraction first before she would venture further into the establishment to seek out her colleagues. In the pit of her stomach, an uneasiness had settled over the fact she had agreed to come. 

It was inevitable for her to have to come clean, even though all of them already seemed to know her secret. There was a distinct difference between her assuming and actually knowing. Ana just hoped they wouldn’t outright confront her about it and instead leave her time to bring it up and more importantly explain it in her own ways.

Maverick turned around as Ana stepped up beside him. His eyes trailed over her body, they gave her a once-over before settling on her face. His features softened, there was a gentleness in them that she would have scoffed at any other moment. Usually, Ana hated to be coddled and taken to be this vulnerable, frail thing. Her godfather had always been incredibly good at seeing her as the little girl she’d once been, forgetting she’d matured into a young, strong, and self-sufficient woman years prior.

Right now the softness in Maverick’s eyes soothed Ana’s nervous turmoil. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her to his side. She slacked against him, leaning into his sturdy frame with a small sigh.

“Do you have a way home?” Maverick murmured against the side of her head into her hair and Ana nodded against his shoulder. She lingered in the hug, only tentatively pulling away to stand beside him. His arms dropped, one remaining loosely wrapped around her waist.

“Yeah, I got mom’s car.” 

He hummed, “If you want to have a drink I can drive you home later on.”

“No it’s fine, I… I don’t want to drink much, if all.” Drinking her sorrow away was the last thing she wanted to do. A short, swift alleviation it would be, albeit the pain would come crashing back only tenfold afterward.

“Alright,” Mav nodded, glancing at Penny who had watched the two of them quietly. Ana looked over at the bar owner too, nodding at her. 

“One drink?” Penny asked, not in any way trying to coax. She would never try to persuade her into drinking, Penny the least of all of them. Ana nodded, agreeing to one.

As Penny dove behind the bar to get the bottle of her favored brew, Maverick brought Ana’s attention back to him. He tucked at the back of her shirt, just like he had done when she was little to tease or rain her in.

“I’ll join you up later.”

“I bet they’ll like that. You know they will try to get you to buy a round or two.” Maverick grimaced at the thought, remembering the money he spent that first night in the bar. His grimace quickly turned into a sly grin and a short laugh and Ana knew that he had come up with something.

“There you go.” Penny reappeared with Ana’s bottle in tow, handing it over the bar to her. 

“Thank you, Penny.” But the bar owner just smiled at her and shooed her off, head cocking behind her toward the back of the bar.

Two pairs of eyes trailed Ana’s retreating form, concern for the young woman shimmering in them.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Penny asked, turning her eyes towards Maverick. He had watched her grow up. There was scarcely anyone here who knew her better. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered with a sigh. Doubt carried in his voice. If Ana felt even just a shred as lost as he still felt about the loss of Ice, he really couldn’t say. The hole that had been ripped open by the loss felt bottomless. Like a black hole it continuously tried to suck every bout of hope, of living out. What would be stronger in the end? 

“He was everything to her.” 

Ice had been everything to him as well. “I’m not sure if she’ll ever recover from this loss.”

Penny eyed him in heavy contemplation. Looking back at her, Mav recognized the thoughtful gaze and so he added, “There was always something special in their bond. Ice was close to every one of his children but I don’t think anyone can come close to the bond they had. It transcended everything.”

Swallowing Maverick glanced back at his beer, fingers restlessly fumbling with the glass from which he set on to take another gulp of. He wasn’t one to drown his sorrow in alcohol, not that he hadn’t come close to it when he lost Goose. It was Carole and then also Ice and Sarah that had kept him from developing another destructive habit. Even though Maverick mused – even now – that one more really couldn’t hurt more.

“I just hope she won’t be hurt any further,” Maverick spoke after a long breath of silence between them, once more looking up, this time glancing past the bar to the two crowded tables in the back.

Penny followed him, her eyes turning to rest on a certain blonde as she hummed. “There is hope.”

“You think so?” He was surprised by the determination carrying in Penny’s voice, a mix of a sigh and laughter leaving his lips. It was hard for him to believe, even if he had gotten close to each of the aviators in those three weeks. Perhaps not close enough. Penny rendered him silent with one disapproving look.

She ought to know them better than Maverick did, he realized. Working behind the bar Penny had likely watched some of them - maybe even all - go through Top Gun, spending many a night in this bar. 

Maverick wasn’t wrong with this assumption. Penny knew Jake like no one else from the dagger squad did. Not even Coyote. The flirty, suave blonde was entirely different in the sole presence of her, quieter and more reserved, more vulnerable. She’d seen through him the moment he’d set foot in front of her bar counter that first time, trying to have his way with her by throwing one of those flirty one-liners at her.

She knew that deep down Jake was different from Hangman, who had tried to flirt with her that day. Those big words and that even bigger grin were a front to hide beneath a decent and sweet man who had been hurt, hit one too many times, and now too cautious to show his true emotions.

“He’s just as broken as all of us are.” Pictures of him after his kill resurfaced in her mind. Pictures of the broken man, forever separated from his colleagues, unable to process what had happened, unable to process his own guilt and nearly breaking beneath it. 

Maverick hummed, quietly murmuring. Maybe they’d be able to heal together.

Ana’s heartbeat picked up as she walked around the bar in the middle of the room, eyes sweeping over the patrons in the back half of the establishment. Beside the jukebox in the far right corner and the pool tables straight forward, she couldn’t spy the others. Only when she looked to the left, where there were more tables and even a couple of booths could she spy a large group of civilian-dressed people that looked oh too familiar.

Not that it quelled her rapidly threshing heart. No, in actuality it made it even worse, a knot materializing in her throat. There was still time for Ana to turn around this instant and walk back out of the door. 

This hesitation. This fear. Was entirely unknown to Ana. She wasn’t like that, she barely recognized herself. Had she not faced worse challenges? She’d learned to fly a jet, shoot ammunition, and throw bombs off with it. She had learned how to fight in combat, she’d deployed to active zones of conflict and risked her life in her service over and over. Why then did the thought of stepping up to her colleagues, her friends, frighten her so much more?

“Ghost, you came!”

At her side, Omaha appeared suddenly, hands full with bottles of beer as he smiled friendly at her. It startled her, the abrupt appearance of him. But just as quickly as he had appeared she recovered.

“Hi,” Ana murmured, focusing on the many beers precariously balanced in his hands. They were quite full.

“You already found the table?” He asked her and she nodded, motioning to pluck some of the beverages out of his hands. “Let me help.” 

Omaha nodded and once they had evenly split the bottles she followed him to the table.

A chorus of happy shouts and other kinds of greetings awaited Ana. They were all clustered around two tables, shoved together and even then it seemed like quite the tight fit. The tables in the bar weren’t designed for such big groups.

Ana’s steps faltered when her eyes met a pair of electrifying green ones, turning around towards her. It was the first and only time she looked over at Hangman during her approach. Even if she had wanted to look at him again – which she didn’t – there would have been no way. 

Rooster stood up the moment he saw her, moving to take the bottles of beer from her hands, and handing them out. Her own bottle remained in her hands as the mustached man motioned for her to take his seat.

There was one more empty seat, presumably Omaha’s, and even if it wouldn’t have been his, Ana would not have taken it. Fritz might have still been sitting between her and Hangman then, but Ana wasn’t quite comfortable with the thought of being so close to the blonde.

Earlier – at the hangar – had been a different story. An Exception. She’d been too caught up in her relief seeing everyone but especially Rooster and Maverick back alive and well. Hangman too. Her traitorous heart had leaped at the sight of him, soaring in happiness, the looming sword of uncertainty over her head had been sheathed at once. 

And then reality had set back in.

Rooster grabbed another chair from an empty table, bringing it over and Ana took his previous one, in the middle between Phoenix and Halo. She was still closer to the blonde, who hadn’t looked away even once since his bright green eyes had snapped onto her. But now with Halo, Omaha, and Fritz, not to mention two tables, between them she felt a little more at ease.

“How long have you been here?”

Halo smiled at her, blindly grabbing over Omaha to grab his arm and draw it into her lap. She peered down at his wristwatch, eyes furrowing together in a way that had Ana wonder how much they already had to drink.

“Not long,” Halo determined soon after, letting go of her pilot’s arm.

“You haven’t missed anything if that’s what you are wondering,” Phoenix added, smiling at her. They surely hadn’t waited for her to arrive, had they? Curious, Ana wanted to know. The question however she was denied to ask, as Harvard cleared his throat pulling – almost – everyone’s attention toward him.

“We’re all here now. Time for a toast. To everyone coming back in one piece. To our team effort. To everyone gathered here today.”

“To a successful mission!” Fanboy added cheerfully, beer in hand that he raised high over his head. The others followed him, grabbing their beers if they hadn’t already and lifting them into the air. Ana fell behind a couple of seconds, her beer the last one to raise.

“Cheers!” 

High-pitched clinks reverted off the touching glass where the bottlenecks were tapping together, mixing into the voices around Ana. One after another the bottles sank back, meeting their holder's lips. The beer was cold and fizzy against her lips, bubbles prickled against her lips and the roof of her mouth as Ana took her sip. Left behind was a fine sheen of foam, which she licked away.

All around her, the buzz of cheering had transformed into multiple, smaller conversations. She got caught up in listening to Phoenix, Rooster, and Payback chat, content to simply sit back, not having to talk herself. Ana had had to talk too much in the last couple of days.

Countless phone calls, thanking people for the flowers and condolence cards that even now kept pouring into their home. She held correspondence with her superiors, the people who had been her father’s colleagues and subordinates. They were planning on further honoring her father and his life's work in the Navy. Not only that but other people, journalists and others, kept inquiring too. It was exhausting.

As much as she focused on the conversation to her left, there was one thing – or rather one person – to her right, that made it almost impossible to listen attentively. She could feel Jake’s eyes on her, burning two distinct holes into her side. Even trying her best to look in the opposite direction, out of the corner of her eyes she noticed the blonde. He did a good job feigning to listen to Fritz and Coyote, throwing in little quips here and there but mostly Jake sat there, his knee bouncing up and down, bottle clasped in his hand tightly as he stared at Ana across the table. No way the others would grant him even a minute alone with her, yet all Jake wanted was a chance to talk to her.

“Yo Rooster, what do you think? You suppose the brass will give you a medal or a write-up for defying direct orders?” Omaha’s voice drowned out the other conversations around the table.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be a while until we’ll know. Wouldn’t surprise me if it’ll take forever ‘till they reviewed the mission considering the higher brass is in quite the disarray.”

And suddenly the group turned quiet, their eyes zeroing in on Ana. Uneasiness blanketed her. It was obvious why the brass was a little too out of order right now. Which was exactly the prompt they’d needed to remember just who was sitting with them.

“Sorry, I–” 

Ana shook her head, “No, it’s alright.” Even if her voice didn’t sound as sure as she wanted it to appear. The moment of truth had arrived. Worry had consumed her, the uncertainty of her friend's and colleagues' stance on the big reveal plaguing her. Ana had never thought to believe any ill reaction of them prior to the funeral but then Jake had happened and the axis of her world had been tilted. Now she couldn’t be sure about anything pertaining to her name and identity anymore. She had become anxious as well as careful about it.

Words failed her, her mouth and lips suddenly drier than the sand of the Sahara desert. How did one break this news that technically they all already knew? How did one come clean without making it awkward? How could she state what everyone already knew without sounding insincere?

“You want to re-introduce yourself to us?” There was no malice in Phoenix's words. No scrutiny or judgment. Instead the dark-haired woman, the second closest friend Ana had in the squad after Rooster, looked at her with warmth and an encouraging openness. 

Her words were a careful ask, a gently prodding prompt meant to ease her into a confession if Ana wished so. She was grateful for it, wanting nothing more but to come clean to her friends and colleagues and have the topic off the table so she didn’t have to worry about the unspoken, the unknown perhaps.

Having not known how to explain herself to them, Phoenix offered an easy starting point. But even then Ana felt choked, not by any expectations but once more by the reality that had plunged her life into darkness. 

She tried to smile but it came out skittish and uneasy and so Ana quickly turned to nodding. They were all looking at her, more or minder directly, attentively but with a warmth that eased her into speaking.

“Yeah,” Ana mumbled, clearing her throat as she shifted in her seat. “I think it’s long overdue now. I never meant to lead any of you astray and I certainly didn’t hide this out of maliciousness. It just..,” she trailed off, leaving the end unfinished. 

There had been no good time to spring it upon them, no moment in which she could have uttered an ‘Oh by the way guys, I’m actually Admiral Kazansky’s daughter’. Anyways.

“Uhm, it’s Ana–” her voice wobbled, threatening to give out. No amount of preparation could make it any easier. Ana was forced to take a rattling, shallow breath to keep the tears at bay.

“Ana Kazansky.” 

The words barely left her lips without a stutter but once they’d finally been uttered a weight dropped off her shoulders. It felt freeing. 

Everyone was looking at her with compassion and sympathy, every eye she met showed nothing but understanding. As she looked over at Phoenix, the one to ask in the first place, the woman opened her arms in a silent invitation. Ana gladly took the offer for a hug, needing it more than anything else, second most perhaps something stronger than beer.

Bob’s arms slung around her from behind, sandwiching Ana between the flight duo. Melting into the embrace, some of the weight she’d been carrying for so long lifted off her shoulders. Ever since her father had died, she had gotten into conflict with her own decision, feeling that the choice she’d made so long ago didn’t fit the her of today anymore.

The first step was made and for the rest of them here were the days going forward. But tonight, nothing of that mattered anymore, at least not for the moment. Gradually Ana calmed down enough for her breath to become steady and her tears to dry.

Bradley's hands clasped her shoulders after the hug, nodding at her with a lopsided smile. It was his way of saying ‘Good job kiddo’.

“But Ana is your actual first name right?” Payback asked jokingly, beer in his hand as he grinned over at Ana. His attempt at lightening up the mood once more was successful as Ana chortled.

“Yeah, it is.” Thinking for a moment, the hint of a smile tugged at her lips, “Although it’s not my full name and you guys have been butchering it.” The latter part – of course – wasn’t meant seriously and was more to egg them on.

Fanboy left out a surprised “Eh?” but it was Yale who leaned forward on his elbows and asked smiling, “Care to share?”

“It’s Ana Theodora Kazansky.”

“Can you repeat that?” Fritz asked her, “The way you said that.”

“Ah-na, it’s uh–”

“–a Russian name,” Bradley butted in, sounding playfully annoyed as he nursed his beer.

“Well, you sound like you’ve heard that one too many times,” Harvard nudged him with his elbow.

“If you only knew,” Bradley scoffed just as teasingly. “Been getting corrected on that all my life by the entire family.” 

“And yet you still can’t seem to do it right.” To everyone’s surprise, Ana butted in, snarky and in the most outgoing, carefree way she had been since the funeral. The closest to the old Ana she’d been displaying ever since.

It didn’t last long, her mood quickly dampened by the scoff Coyote let out. Suddenly all eyes were on him. “Everything alright pal?” Payback asked.

“I think it’s just a little hypocritical don’t you think?” Coyote's eyes zeroed in on her, narrowing in a frown that had Ana’s stomach drop. “So much for comradery.”

“Yo dude, come on, that was obviously a joke,” Omaha frowned beside him while Ana just stared, the ground ripped from beneath her feet.

“No. You are just as hypocritical. She gets a free pass for her actions while she’s allowed to give others shit for theirs?” 

Oh. So that’s what that was about. She’d almost forgotten how she’d laid into Hangman. Of course, as his best friend Coyote was going to be on his side. Ana simply hadn’t thought it was that much of a problem, since it had been between Hangman and her and the moment had been heated.

All around the table voices erupted but the words were reduced to mere noise in the back of her mind. It shouldn’t surprise Ana, until the moment she sat down at the table she’d anticipated – feared – everyone would react like Coyote had. Still, him reacting like that had sent her spiraling nonetheless.

“Enough!” Silence settled over them. Ana glanced up in surprise at Hangman, who had broken the discussion. Briefly, their gazes met across the table before he glanced away, looking around at all of them but mostly at Coyote.

“I appreciate the sentiment ‘yote but shut up. No reason to attack her like that, she did nothin’ wrong. You and I will never know what it’s like but we may try to understand it.” Her heart fluttered, only a fraction from the Texan drawl bleeding into his voice and mostly the serious, defending way with which he said it. He was defending her?

“Understand what? That she gets a free pass?”

“What’s it like to be a family legacy, what’s it like when everyone knows who you are and there are impossible expectations on you from the moment you are born because of your name. You and I can't imagine what it’s like to have everyone either look down on you for who you are or put you on an impossible-to-achieve pedestal. What it’s like when everyone thinks you haven’t worked hard enough to earn something even if you did your damn hardest to earn it.

I couldn’t imagine what it’s like to be reduced to my last name and for people to not see me for who I am but for my parents' son.

Everyone around his table has had to work their hardest to get where we are now but there is no question that some of us had it harder than others,” Jake made the briefest glance toward Phoenix, Halo, and lastly Ana. “You’d do well to remember that, perhaps asking and listening in on their hardships would help you not look as stupid as you are right now. ”

“And lastly it’s none of our damn business if she decided to keep her private information private. Or do you go around sharing your lineage and heritage with everyone?

No one’s getting a free pass here.”

Ana was left speechless. Jake jumping to her rescue surprised her a lot, even more so at how reflective and open he was. While it was clear that the others had caught some part of what happened at the funeral, she was sure they weren’t in on it all. 

Most likely Rooster had told them the gist of it, otherwise, they wouldn’t have jumped between Jake and her at the Hangar. But there was no way Rooster would dish out the entire story when it wasn’t his to tell.

She had no idea what had gone down after the funeral or during the mission, but something had happened. At least something had changed in Jake. That being sad she wasn’t sure if she was ready to deal with it all, no less ready for it than she had been at the hangar earlier that day. Just because he came to her defense now didn’t mean Jake understood all of it or could see his faults. 

While Ana deep down longed for nothing more than resolution, a big part – and the loudest of it all by far – still wasn’t ready for confrontation. Her mood was soured and once more the walls seemed to come down all around her. Her breath hitched, the tension around the table suddenly too much for her. Grabbing her bottle, her chair screeched loudly against the floor.

“I’m going to get a refill,” she muttered, squeezing past Bradley, who had taken a seat narrowly behind her and Phoenix. 

Much later that same evening Ana found herself outside on the back patio, where the air was crisp, the sky dark and the world a little quieter. 

Lonelier.

Ever since Coyote’s more than snide comments, the atmosphere had been off, the mood tainted with those burdensome words. Ana didn’t want to dampen the fun of the others, doubts of coming in the first place rampaged wildly inside her. She’d tried to put on a brave face, to smile through it and drink a little more. To loosen up.

Ultimately however she felt like a pretender. Never wanting to be one ever again - even with her brave face - she’d opted to go back to Penny. But Penny had been busy, the later the night the more patrons to serve. 

With Maverick joining the lively group Ana briefly had been able to relax, to forget a bit for a while. Only for the time being until her gaze crossed Coyote’s at the table again. Then she was back to square one.

And so, at some point and entirely unnoticed, she’d gone off on her own, to find some quiet and solitude out here. Her forearms braced against the railing, both hands wrapped around her bottle of beer, she stared out at the waves, barely discernible in the dim light of the night.

Emotions bubbled under the surface, beneath the carefully maintained mask. Cracks had formed along its smooth form, crumbling the more time passed. Ana had truly thought she’d be able to stomach an evening away already, to throw herself back into the routine outings.

“I tried to,” she whispered into the quiet, voice lost in between the sways of the faraway waves and the summer breeze caressing her hair. “I’m trying so hard to be strong, Dad.” Her lips trembled, voice turning wobbly and weak.

“It’s just so damn hard,” she whimpered, closer to a sob, closer to breaking down. 

This horrid wave of pain became laced with anger and that familiar bout of resentment cooking up inside her. How weak was she that she couldn’t even manage one evening? One silly night? Angry tears burned Ana’s eyes, her stubborn refusal all that held them back from spilling. Her nails scratched against the bottle's smooth glass, catching the edges of the label, fingers tightening their hold.

Nearly swallowed in this silent fight with herself, Ana could have – would have – missed the backdoor swinging open if not for that one old hinge at the bottom creaking under heavy strain. 

Startled out of her pain and self-misery she hastily wiped over her face as discreetly as possible before she glanced back. It was those green eyes she noticed first – and perhaps only – in the dawn, causing her to straighten her back, carefully guarding herself. Ana swallowed, curiously just as hesitantly eyeing the blonde, waiting for him to move. It took Jake a long breath to close the door behind him, the hinge screeching a second time before he took a step forward but not yet coming toward her.

All throughout the evening, Ana had watched him out of the corner of her eye trying to get close. Only for one of the many daggers – she’d been told that’s how Hondo had dubbed the bunch, promptly turning into their unofficial name – to block him off. Be it changing his seat to one closer to her or being able to address her. Not even looks they had outright permitted, one of them conventionally and just coincidentally shifting so they couldn’t cross eyes. Not that he had tried still, stolen glances slipping past the vigilant guards, which Ana noticed. 

Jake had been progressively growing more frustrated until some time ago when he had left the group table to stalk off to who knows where to do who knows what.

Now he stood here, watching her as the light from inside the hard deck illuminated his back. She might have stood in the dark but the little light filtering out toward her was enough for him to notice the motion of her hands. 

Two hearts rapidly beat on the opposing sides of the deck. Jake hesitated. Just then he had been so determined to approach her, to finally get a moment alone with her. Now he wasn’t so sure if he still should. If he wouldn’t do more harm than what he was trying to repair. 

He couldn’t move, stuck in his spot, in this position. Torn between stepping forward and leaving again. Torn between his want, his need, to mend a situation – possibly unfixable – and going to preserve an already thin enough tolerance or to admit defeat. 

Failing to move in what could have been merely heartbeats but also minutes Ana turned away, facing the beach again, her back now turned to him. While this gesture might have been a sign for anyone else to leave, for Jake it was the permission to approach, albeit slowly and carefully.

Once more Ana found herself staring into the dark, the waves ominously glistening in the distance, no different from the waves of emotions crashing in her stomach, their sounds sweeping up the dunes toward them. But now their sound was mixed with Jake’s boots, with the slow yet sturdy steps as he drew closer. 

The railing creaked under his forearms as he leaned against the barrier not far away from her. Some might even call it beside her. There were but a few feet dividing them. Quiet was the chosen ambience, at least for a while in which they dwelled on their thoughts, each one stuck in their own complicated world of mind. 

There came a point when the silence became too much for Ana, too glaring, too grading on her nerves. Looking over at him at first was a quick glance, then another one until not long after she turned her head entirely to him, watching with careful eyes. In the dark, she thought to notice a reddish tinge to his tan skin, almost unintelligible.

“Are you drunk?” She asked, quietly, words carrying an accusing sting with them.

“No,” he answered, adding a few contemplative moments later, “Maybe a little.”

Her instinct to flee his proximity kicked in, no longer able to bear the pain still residing inside of her, to tolerate this silent existence between them. The jerky, jittery movement, not quite a stumble but also nowhere near graceful had Jake now eyeing her intently.

Against all her instincts his gaze held her there, gluing her to the spot like no one had ever been able to do before.

“Listen, I–” As fast as her instincts had been blanketed by his gaze, his words brought the innate need for her to leave right back. 

“–Don’t! I don’t want to hear…” And with the sensation came another wave of bite to defend, to guard herself. Ana had learned her lesson at the funeral and she wouldn’t be a fool once more.

But she wouldn’t let him out of her eyes either, at least not for the first careful steps backward, her hand skirting along the edge of the railing until finally, in one swift motion, she whirled around and bolted down the steps.

“No, Ana, that’s not– Damn it!”

It was all she could hear before the rush of blood replaced any other noise. Ana’s heart hammered in her chest, the sudden bout of adrenaline taking her by surprise. She stumbled in the sand, wondering what she was even doing.

To no surprise it didn’t take long for her to crumble once more, adrenaline replaced by all the pain she’d shoved to the back in favor of guarding herself against the blonde. With him no longer around everything swept back. Like a tsunami, it now came crashing over her. A sob broke out from between her lips, knees buckling as she squatted down in the sand, forehead resting against her knees.

“Shit,” she whined, hands shaking as she tried to keep her balance, just like her emotions the world wanted to tilt around her, spinning out of control.

Muffled steps on sand hit her ears but there came no second wave of flight, no instincts to tell her to flee. She was too tired, too in pain from it all. What difference would more of it even make?

“Coyote had no right to say that to you,” Jake blurted, huffing as he reached her. He’d feared she’d just up and bolt again, not sure if catching her a second time was something he could do. Exhaustion; his lack of sleep during the mission on the carrier and now the added stroke of the alcohol coursing through his veins were catching up on him, heavily. 

“And it’s my fault he said something in the first place. He’s protective of me like the others are of you, which doesn’t make it okay. I…I don’t know why he thought to say that, to do that in front of everyone–not that in private it would have been any more acceptable.” 

With a sigh, Jake dragged his hand over his face. Ana had the most unusual reaction to this. She chuckled, shaking her head in a moment of displaced amusement, a laugh bubbling deep in her chest, barely held back.

“What– What’s so funny ‘bout that?” Jake puffed out in confusion, slowly blinking through the foggy tendrils of alcohol wanting to cloud his mind. He wasn’t that inebriated was he?

“You defended me,” she muttered, rising to her feet. Her eyes, landing point blank on Jake, were the brightest damn thing in this solemn night. But they weren’t as bright as they had been that night in the Hard Deck three weeks ago. Dimmed unmistakably now. Jake hated himself, knowing he was a part of the reason her flame had lost its spark.

“You defended me.” 

He should have been insulted at the way she made it sound like it was the least possible thing that could happen, but he couldn’t. Not after what he had done to her. He deserved it. Deserved all of her mistrust.

“Even I can admit when I’m at fault.”

“You can? What changed?” There it was, the anger he had been expecting to surface back at the hangar already. She’d spared him then but now he was ready to take whatever she would hurl at him.

Shrugging he looked down at his feet, “I learned some new things. Things that gave me a new perspective.”

“For example?”

Sucking in his breath, Jake glanced upward. There she stood, in all her hostile, defensive glory. The waning crescent moon illuminated her from behind, the soft dim of it gave her an otherworldly glow. She looked like his best dream yet where he stood felt closer to his worst nightmare.

It took him off-guard that question of hers. Even though he had been the one to bring it up, he realized now how unprepared he truly was for her to ask. Gathering his witts usually came as easy as breathing. Not now. Trying to find his way to the start of his story was harder than Jake anticipated. Especially when the alcohol in his system chose now to ensnare his mind further.

Jake’s eyes lost their focus, skidding to the path of sand behind her leading to the tip of the beach where the waves came in from the vast open of the ocean. Their rhythmic movements had something almost calming. 

Almost.

Beside his body Jake’s fingers started to twitch in wanton, one movement kickstarting the cascade of nervous notions that were entirely his own. His foot began tapping the sand beneath his sole in an erratic, uncontrolled cluster of muffled thumps.

The motion sent a flashback through his mind as much as it did little vibrations through the loose ground. One involving the very woman before him, a pen, and a sharp pain as said pen had been rammed into his thigh not long ago.

“That I’m more of a fraud than you could ever be,” he shrugged once more, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicked at the sand beneath his feet. His words caught her off guard, abruptly halting her in her growing anger, stealing the roll she was building towards.

“What?” Her words were quiet, nearly lost over the waves, that suddenly sounded so much louder. And this time it was Jake who nearly laughed in surprise. Even when he had hurt her so badly and she had all the reason to hate his guts, she found it in herself to listen to him and perhaps even to muster some sympathy for him. He truly didn’t deserve it.

“I had to talk to someone, so I called my mother. She gave me an earful…” His hand flashed in her attention as he produced something from the pocket of his pants. Ana couldn’t tell what it was at first, his fingers nimbly spinning it between them. “She’d have flown here to whoop my ass no question if we didn’t ship out a couple of days later. She, uhh, put some things into perspective for me..”

Ana watched him now, attentive and with a poorly concealed hint of curiosity for which she would have liked to kick herself in the ass. She cursed him for having such an impact on her. Cursed herself more that even now she couldn’t resist this natural pull. Cursed her traitorous heart for beating faster, stronger. 

How could it not when Jake was opening himself up to her? It reminded her of him showing up in her room with hot chocolate and snacks. When she had glimpsed the real Jake beneath the mask he made everyone believe was him.

One more thing sparked her memory. That little pick of wood between his fingers, flashing briefly in the moonlit space between them. Cursed be the toothpick, the little annoying thing that sent a shiver down her spine. He’d had it that morning in the hangar too, annoying her to no end. 

Then she’d accounted it as a tool of superiority, for him to tease and show off. Was it true or had her own subjectivity turned it into it? Had it perhaps been nothing but his way of managing his nerves?

“From the first time I can remember I was always obsessed with planes. There was nothing more fascinating for me than those huge feasts of engineering. These beautiful man-made birds of steel, giving a mere human the ability to conquer and explore the skies. 

Growin’ up my father always put it before me that I was to inherit the family business one day, continue and grow it. Like he had done and his father and his father’s father before them.”

His hand reached upwards, one pointy end rubbing along the flush of his bottom lip. How ironic that little thing was now when he was about to mention him. “It was my grandfather who showed me that my dream could become my reality. That my future was my choice. My mother’s family always lived far away from us and looking back on it now I realize why she kept us away so much from them.

Nonetheless, my grandfather became my hero. My role model from the moment I met him and found out he’d not only been in the Navy his whole life but been no less than an aviator.

To a twelve-year-old obsessed with everything aviation, he became the coolest person on earth. Even more so when afterward I found out he was highly decorated and considered a hero.”

Quietening down Ana almost missed his next words, “Guess I never realized how much of a hero he was considered until now. Or how much influence he earned through that.” 

In a brief moment, Jake’s mask slipped, revealing the conflict warring inside of him. It was gone as quickly as it had, the iron mask back stronger. 

“You see I always thought what got me into the academy was my hard work alone. And I was damn proud of it since it's no easy feat. I always thought everything can be done if you just put in enough effort and don’t quit.”

“Can’t stand quitters ya now? Those who give up because it’s too hard or those who let the difficulty and fear stop them from even trying, who can’t seem to put in the effort it would take to reach the end. I was full of prejudice, thinking that all legacy children always got in easily and without working for it.”

“Like me.” Hesitantly he glanced over at her, a cautious and nearly hidden look before his eyes drifted once more toward the ground where his feet shuffled around the sand. Rather harshly he cleared his throat, shaking off the lump in it and rushing to babble on. 

“My mother used the ample opportunity to give me not only a lecture but also a lesson in what it was like to grow up for her. And I know I can’t compare that, likely yours and her experience won’t have many similarities but it..,” once more a heavy sigh cleaved his lips as Jake found himself lost for words. His hands tightened into fists, the toothpick between his fingers creaked under the strain, slowly bending until it snapped. The two broken pieces slipped beneath his fist, landing in the sand.

“She, uhm–,” he cleared his throat, “–she told me what it was like for her to grow up as the daughter of a navy hero. As a legacy child herself, even if she never wished to pursue the same career path.” A sad smile broke upon his lips, weakly twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. Ultimately the heaviness of his guilt brought them down again. 

“My view on it all has been altered.”

There was no time to ponder about his words or what had been revealed with them, as Jake left no pause. He shrugged once more, hands shoved back into his pants as he spoke on, “I can’t let it slide when something untrue or incorrect is said. As you might have noticed I’m more blunt. Pretty sure everyone else thinks I’m just a mouthy asshole, who says what he thinks without regarding other people’s feelings.”

A rush of guilt swept through the hightide of her wavering emotions, like a little boat out in rough sea. She’d thought just the same. The more Ana learned of him, the stronger she felt that there was so much more to Jake. So much more behind those acts he put up and the brash way he spoke with others. And here she was, getting to see another part of him unraveled, another piece put into the puzzle that was understanding him. 

“Don’t like to hide things. There is no point in sugarcoating things.” For a moment it looked like he wanted to say more, to add something. He looked over at her, their eyes met once more through the night and something glimmered in Jake’s eyes—a brief shine of something Ana couldn’t name or even describe. 

And then he left. Simply turned around, walking back the way he had come to follow her. A couple steps away he turned around once more, “I won’t bother you any longer as you clearly wanted to have your peace in the first place. Apologies for disrupting.” 

[starset21]

Sincerely, Yours

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower A/N: I hate having to say this but please leave a comment or reblog because I have no idea if people are actually reading this series and if people are liking it. Summary: The big mission

Looking for previous chapters? Sincerely, Yours Masterlist  

Chapter 9:

Cyclone and Warlock stand with the ship’s Officers and Comms Crew. Hondo is there as well, anxiously watching the screens. “Support assets airborne. Strike package ready. Standing by for launch decision.” Cyclone nods. “Send ‘em.” A catapult officer signals with a two-finger wave, as the two jets facing him throttle engines to full. Maverick and Rooster, side-by-side, salute the Officer, then press their heads back against the headrests. The final check crews around each aircraft offer a thumbs-up, one by one, causing the Catapult Officer to crouch, touching the deck to point forward. Maverick and Rooster’s Super Hornets fly across the deck, ripping into the sky. Phoenix and Bob as well as Tempest and Denver are launched a moment later. The four F-18s fly above dark ominous clouds, maintaining their delta formation. “Rough Rider. Dagger, Texaco complete. Comanche, standby check-in,” Maverick says. An air control officer watches streams of data roll in. “Comanche one-one, set. Lightning One, status.” An F-35 pilot monitors his electronic view of the valley. “Lightning One, set. Bravo route is clear.” The four F-18s descend through the clouds to 1000 feet. “Here we go. Enemy territory up ahead. Feet dry in 60 seconds. Comanche, dagger one. Picture.” The air control officer looks at her screens before responding. “Comanche. Picture clean. The decision is yours,” she said. “Copy. Proceeding to Bravo. Dagger attack,” Maverick’s voice came over the channel. “Dagger’s assume attack formation.” They adjusted their formation into their attack order. “Daggers set. Proceeding to target. Two minutes and 30 seconds in three, two, one, Mark.” All four push the button and their clocks start counting down. “Two mark,” came Tempest’s voice. “Three mark,” Rooster called out. “Four mark,” Phoenix called out last. With Mav taking the lead, the Strike Package flies in a staggered formation toward enemy territory. “Tomahawks airborne,” the comms officer informs the team moments before they fly over the heads of the aviators. 

“First SAM site overhead, no movement,” came Denver’s voice over the channel. “Looks like we’re clear on radar, Mav,” Tempest called out. “Let’s not take it for granted,” Mav reminded them. They shoot into an ever-compressing canyon, hauling ass over the broken landscape, snowy trees flashing just beneath. It’s training times ten. The valley walls are tight, and the high speed and sharp turns are resulting in higher Gs. “We got two minutes to target,” Denver tells the team. “Copy,” Tempest responds. “We’re a few seconds behind, Rooster. We got to move,” Phoenix warns. “Thirty seconds to tomahawk impact on the enemy airstrip,” a second comms officer alerts them. Radar beeps before they are updated with new information. “Dagger, Comanche. We’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”

“Comanche, what’s their heading?” Tempest asks. “Bull’s-eye 090, 50, tacked southwest,” they were informed. “They’ve headed away from us. They don’t know we’re here,” Rooster called out. “The second those tomahawks hit the air base, those bandits are gonna move to defend the target. We have to get there before they do. Increase speed,” Maverick ordered. “We got you, Mav. Don’t wait for me!” The physical pressure on the team alone is intense, requiring every ounce of concentration, skill, and endurance. Each of the pilots contends with the intensity in their own way. Training was nothing compared to this. They’re all feeling it. “Come on, Rooster. Bandits inbound. We got to make up time now. Let’s turn and burn,” Phoenix tells her partner. “Heads up, Tempest,” Mav calls out. As they turn sideways and pass through a narrow gap under a bridge Denver quietly lets out a “woah.” 

“Guys, we’re falling behind. We really gotta move,” Bob calls out. “If we don’t increase our speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target,” Phoenix tells Rooster. A quiet “Talk to me, Dad,” came from Rooster. “Come on, kid, you can do it. Don’t think, just do,” Maverick encouraged. Bradley took a deep breath and he hit the throttle. “Jesus, Rooster, not that fast!” Bob exclaims. “Damn, Rooster, take it easy,” Phoenix chimes in, throttling up to pursue. “Thirty seconds to target. Denver, check your laser,” Mav ordered. “Air-to-ground check complete. Laser code verified, 1688. Laser is a go!” Denver exclaimed. “Tempest, stand by for pop-up strike,” Mav said. “Dagger three in position,” she replied. “Popping in three, two, one,” Maverick counted down before both pilots pulled back on their sticks. “Get me eyes on that target, Denver,” Mav ordered. “Dagger three. Stand by, Mav.” His system beeped. “I’ve got it. Captured!” he responded. “Target acquired, bombs away.” Maverick and Tempest wrench their jets into a body-smashing climb - excessive Gs. Only this time it’s for keeps as a mountain face is coming up fast. For a few moments, the only sound over the comms was grunting as they climbed. “We’ve got impact! Check, direct hit! Direct hit!” Denver calls out before grunting. “Dagger two, status,” Mav asks when it's a little easier to breathe. “Almost there, Mav. Almost there. Bob, where’s my laser?” Bob’s eyes frantically dart over his screens. “Rooster, there’s something wrong with this laser! Shit! Deadeye, deadeye, deadeye!” Bob called out. “Come on, guys, we’re running out of time. Get it online!” Rooster replied. “Nearly there! Nearly there!” he replies his hands flying over the controls and trying to fix the problem. “There’s no time. I’m dropping blind,” Rooster says after a moment. “Rooster, I got this!” Bob yells. “No time. Pull up,” Rooster orders. “Wait!” Phoenix tries. “Great balls of fire,” Rooster mutters as he drops his payload. “Bullseye!” They’re informed by overwatch. “We’re not out of this yet. Here it comes,” Maverick warns and suddenly the first two jets are climbing into the clear blue sky. The first array comes automatically to life, swivels, and fires. “Radar warning! Smoke in the air. Tempest, break right!” Denver yells. “Emergency jettison. Dagger three defending,” Tempest declares as she dodges the incoming missiles. “Here comes another one!” Denver warns. “Dagger one defending.” Maverick shoots off flares. “Rooster, status,” Mav asks. “Oh, my god,” Rooster murmurs as they crest over the mountain to see Mav and Tempest dodging missiles and trying to get low to the ground. “Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air! Break right, Phoenix!” Bob yells. “Breaking right,” she replies, doing as she was told. “Oh, my god, here they come!” Bob exclaims. “Sam on your six, Rooster!” he warns. “Deploying countermeasures. Negative contact.” The comms channel was a mess, the aviators doing their best to avoid being shot out of the sky. Sounds of the aviators fill the room back on the command deck. The breathing hard, the shouting, straining, and cursing. It’s hell. 

“Dagger one defending.” 

“Talk to me, Bob.”

“Break right, Phoenix!”

“Break right! Mav!”

“Nine o’clock! Tempest, Nine o’clock!”

“Rooster, two more on your six.”

“Dagger two, defending.”

“Phoenix, Sam on your nose.” 

“Dagger four defending.”

“Rooster, tally, seven o’clock!”

“Talk to me, Bob!”

“On our six!”

“Dagger two defending.”

“Denver!”

“Tempest Break Right!” 

“I see it!”

“Dagger two defending. Shit, I’m out of flares!”

“Rooster, evade, evade!”

“I can’t shake ’em! They’re on me! They’re on me!” 

An F-18 fills his sight picture. 

“MAVERICK, NO!”

Maverick releases flares, but he’s too late. And he knows it. The missile slams into Maverick’s engine. A fireball shreds the splintering rear of the jet. “Dagger one is hit! I repeat, dagger one is hit!” Tempest calls it in, doing her best to keep her voice from wavering. “Maverick is down.” The remaining jets dive into the valley and below the SAM’s and their radar. The arrays go still. “Dagger one, status,” Rooster calls out, waiting a moment. “Status! Anyone see him? Does anyone see him? Dagger one, come in!” Rooster exclaims again. “I didn’t see a parachute,” Tempest says softly. “We have to circle back!” Rooster yells. “Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend dagger flow south. One minute to intercept. All daggers flow to ECP. You have bandits headed for you.” Phoenix and Tempest look at each other as they fly side by side, their eyes sad from the loss of their mentor. “What about Maverick!” Rooster tries. “Dagger spare request permission to launch and fly air cover,” Hangman’s voice comes over the radio. “Negative, spare.” Jake nearly punches his dash in frustration. 

“Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage. Dagger two, return to the carrier. Acknowledge. Acknowledge,” the comms officer relays their orders. “Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back,” Phoenix tries to reason. “Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone,” Bob says solemnly. Bradley takes a moment staring up into the blue vastness of the sky. “Screw it.” A deep breath later and he’s turning back, leaving Phoenix and Tempest. “Dagger two is hit. Dagger two is hit,” Phoenix relays just as the radar shows the command deck his jet has gone offline. “Dagger two, come in. Dagger two, do you copy? Dagger two, come in.” The remaining aviators wait to hear their friend’s voice in vain. When no response is given Ria’s chest hurt, and not from the G’s this time. Phoenix looked over at Tempest as she pulled up beside her jet. “Don’t you leave me too,” she says quietly. Elliot reached a gloved hand through the small gap in the metal separating their seats and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not just me in this jet. I have to get Eli home,” is all she says, turning her eyes to the horizon and doing her best to prevent her voice from shaking and tears from lining her eyes. On Tempest’s wing, Phoenix follows her back to the ship, circling overhead as Tempest traps and taxis into her jet's space, running through all the shutdown procedures. “Rooster’s ESAT is online and supersonic. Overwatch reports an f-14 tomcat is airborne and on course for our position.” It was Maverick. The sounds of a jet launching reach their ears and they watch as Jake’s jet screams off the carrier and climbs in altitude. 

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their upright and locked position, and prepare for landing,” Jake’s voice comes through the radio after several very tense minutes. “Hey, Hangman... you look good,” Bradley replies and Ria breathes a sigh of relief. “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” The four mission aviators already on deck are given the all-clear to depart their jets. Tired and sweaty the four aviators embrace each other tightly. Maverick and Rooster watch as Hangman’s F-18 circles back, doing a hotshot twirl of the wings. A victory roll.

All eyes are on the horizon as two planes are inbound. All of the pilots watch from Vulture’s Row, the balcony platform with the best view of the entire flight deck. Cyclone, Warlock, and Hondo have moved up to the Primary Flight Control room. “Get Hangman down first. Maverick may burn the deck,” Cyclone orders. Hondo without a word, runs from the command center. Hondo emerges on the deck where the crew is awaiting Hangman’s arrival. Emergency crews are standing by. “The minute Hangman touches down, pull the trip wires and have the barricade stanchions ready.” The crew just stares at him. “HE DOESN’T HAVE A GODDAMN TAILHOOK!” Hondo yells. The crew realizes and scrambles. It’s organized chaos once again. Cyclone, Warlock, and several officers stand in the PFC with binoculars, watching as Hangman’s super hornet comes in for a landing. His tail hook snagging the arrest cable, his plane jerking to a stop.

The Deck Crew rushes in to clear the way for Maverick. A ballet of precise emergency response. Hundreds of sailors work to remove Trap-Wires and raise Barricade Stanchions, lift up a 15-foot-high nylon barricade, stretching a massive net across the width of the landing deck. The F-14 circles overhead. “Rough Rider, Ghostrider here. We are requesting a tower fly-by.” Cyclone and Warlock share a look. “Is this a joke?” Cyclone asks. “Rough Rider, I say again-” Cyclone has the radio now. “Ghostrider, this is Cyclone. Put that bird on the deck now.” 

“-odswor- -strider- -adio” 

“Does he even want to land?” Cyclone asked Warlock. “He asked permission. That’s progress,” the other man replies. Cyclone sighs, nods begrudgingly to the Comm Tech who, despite everything, has to grin a little as he relays orders. “Ghostrider, pattern is clear, you are cleared for flyby.” Maverick raises a brow. “Huh. That’s a first.” Rooster knocks his helmet repeatedly on the canopy. “Why did I bother saving your ass?” Maverick blazes by the tower at high speed, rocking the tower. Cyclone shakes his head as several of the aviators on Vulture’s Row cheer. The battered Tomcat comes around, lining up with the runway before it smashes down, sliding across the deck on its nose, showering sparks and spewing smoke, until it slams into the nylon net, ripping it forward before snapping to a violent halt. Finally. Safe home. The emergency crews rush the jet as Mav and Rooster climb out. They check themselves and each other before climbing down. Sailors swarm them. Maverick gazes up to Vultures Row, spying Cyclone and Warlock. Cyclone gives him a simple, grateful nod.

“Chalked yourself another kill,” Bradley muses as Jake walks up to him, offering him a hand. “That makes two,” Jake smiles as they shake hands. “Maverick has five. Makes him an ace,” Phoenix steps in, finally pushing through the crowd of sailors that had rushed to congratulate them. Jake’s smile fades just a little bit. “Still impressive all things considering,” Ria’s voice rings out as she pushes out from behind Natasha, a small smile on her face as she gives Bradley a tight hug. As she pulls away she smacks his shoulder. “Don’t do that again!” Bradley groaned, rubbing his shoulder. “Wasn’t planning on it.” Ria gives him a stern look before turning her attention to Jake. She marches over to him and pulls him down by the flight vest and kisses him soundly. Whistles sound all around them as she pulled away but Jake didn’t let her go far. He pulled her back into another deep kiss. Cheers and more whistles followed. “I love you,” he murmured when he pulled back. “I love you!” she replied quietly just for him. Jake smiled wide and held her close to him.

Filled with jubilant sailors, the whole ship celebrates the mission’s return.

[jackiequick]

—A little distraction wouldn’t hurt | Hangman Fic 🏖

Top Gun Maverick Au ☀️

Summary: When Jake wants something he gets it, even if it means he has to embarrass himself or the lady he loves a little.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Amber ‘Skysolo’ Kazansky, Hangman x OC

Requested: Yes or no

Fic length: Short.

—-

It was a breezing warm Thursday afternoon in the middle of July. The building was constantly being used up as a way to conduct a way to cool off for the people who worked there the entire week. And today was no different, expect for the fact that the workload wasn’t the best.

Usually Amber Kazansky can get it done, especially with her wingwoman by her side. But today Georgia ‘Peach’ Wells decided it was the best idea to spend a day at the beach instead with their friends. Nor did Jennifer Mitchell stopped by for a quick game. She couldn’t blame them, it was a nice day to stay laying down as the sun kissed your skin. In result, she was left alone with a laptop and paperwork to be hand picked then signed.

Her glasses slipped down her nose every time, she pushed back to the rim of her nose like it was a game. Music softly played from the radio, a random list of summer songs, as she tapped her foot. Amber was so engrossed in her files, she didn’t hear the knock on the door or for it being opened for that matter.

The door slowly swung open gently as the smell of sprinkled oranges and light lemon filled up the room. In came Jake Seresin wearing a brown collared shirt, jeans and sneakers as well as his classic black sunglasses.

He smiled at the lady in question, “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gave a short reply, typing up a email not even glancing up at the man.

“You look cute. New frames?”

“Yup.”

“Wanna take a break?”

“Can’t. Just started getting in line with these emails.”

Jake sighed, the whole time she didn’t even give him a glance or a smile. He thought for a moment asking if she wanted a beer or anything, it was a simple ‘no’ in response. He shrugged saying he’ll be back in half an hour and left for work.

—

Half an hour later she was still at it. Emails, phone calls, note taking for updates on new posts and other messages. Jake tried to distract her by rubbing her shoulder, getting her a glass of water and a snack to share, running his fingers cross her blonde hair and pretending to start organizing the office to catch her attention.

The man even sang along to the lyrics of a song from the radio.

Amber only looked up once or twice with a smile, giving him a sweet reply. Even a laugh came from her lips, which result in Jake laughing whole heartily.

But nothing that truly distracted her writing and or anything majorly strong enough to get her from standing up from her chair. Then Jake smirked. He knew actually how to distract his ladybug and get her blushing in the process, possibly. Honestly he didn’t know how he didn’t think about it earlier today, especially since it wouldn’t be the first time he done this. Well the other times were by accident, but this one would be on pure purpose and full conscious of what he will be doing.

Amber Kazansky was in the middle of a virtual meeting with other recruiters along with officers and captains to discuss plans transfer of planes, aviators and missions.

The women was pacing back and forth behind her desk, was knee deep with a conversation with Captain Wraith and Ark could new transfer students with a smile on her face.

“Ah yes i was thinking we could transfer Lieutenant Sugar Lopez here this week from Chicago over to the Northwest while Lieutenant Summit and the others take over here?” Amber asked glancing up from her paperwork.

Ark nodded from her square box on the computer screen, liking the ideas as she planned to rearrange a few shipments of flyers to California next weekend for work.

Wraith nodded running his fingers crossed his curls and said, “Okay good. Uh, Air Boss Johnson requesting to ship out Maverick and Valkyrie to the eastern side of the bay. How are dealing with this plan? He wants both siblings but Johnson hates Maverick for a reason I don’t care to know.”

Ark came up with a good suggestions onto how the plan could go as Wraith disused the idea, bouncing from one topic to another. A few peoples jumped in, chatting and comment about it all. Amber was half listening, taking notes that will be needed later for Cyclone and the Vice Admirals, adding a simple comment or two.

—-

Amber stood up bend over her desk, writing down notes she gave to the Captains, Officers and Commanders with recruiters who joined in later on during the meeting. She heard her creamy white door swing open softly as the blonde Lieutenant walked in once again. She already figured it was Jake again picking up a forgotten item he must’ve left behind earlier.

Her eyes filled from the notepad and slowly her gaze fell onto the sight in front of her. Hangman had a outfit change. His signature sunglasses were laying perfectly on his face, he was wearing short instead of his dark jeans and his shirt was well…nonexistent.

Amber had to blink twice to make sure she was seeing this right. She must be dreaming right?

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Lieutenant to the Dagger Squad with two air to air kills, add the confidence and audacity to walk down the hallways of a Navy building shirtless?! Like as if it was the beach?!

“OH! Don’t mind me, sweetheart. Just looking for my baseball cap, i think i felt it in your closet.” Jake said in a whisper grinning brightly as he looked around the closet behind the door.

His silly grin. His abs being kissed from the sun rays from the window. His slightly messy hair and nicely framed facial hair from not shaving the last few days. Hangman was known for being a goofy man from time to time, so this was normal. But not today, he was doing this on purpose.

Amber was stuck in a trace and groaned, the curse of the naval aviator during the summer time! Acting like smooth criminals.

Her named was called out by Wraith snapping her out of her trace as a few recruiters asked a couple of things. Amber’s eyes reverted back to her screen and hummed, “Yeah I’m still here..still here.” She went back to her conversation with the others on call.

The whole time Jake stood there pretending to looks for his baseball cap, which he already found but stayed looking like a idiot, still searching for it. His eyes stayed brightly lit with a smirk, pacing around the room pretending to search for something else.

He spoke with a random question, “Hey, i was thinking of buying a new volleyball this summer? You know, before we play me and the guys can do some push-ups too. Get all warmed up.”

She forgot her microphone wasn’t turned down and turned to him, “Honey I’m in the middle of a meeting..”

“But sweetheart, you didn’t answer my question. A new volleyball or football? Oh that sounds way better!”

“Both. And put a shirt on please..”

“Good and no. I’m heading to the gym later and then the beach.”

Jake strutted over with a rather cheeky smile and chuckled seeing the blush slowly rise on her face. Amber tried to look away, glancing at her computer wanting to stay professional as possible.

Hangman stopped himself from looping his finger underneath her chin, fully aware about the cameras on them and just smiles, “And i want you to join us.”

“But I’m working.” She winced with a matching smile blushing embarrassed, due to noticing a few recruiters looking at her from their screen.

“I promise you will have fun, sweetie. Beside you get to hang out with me and the daggers!”

“Stop trying to convince me!”

“Ah, so it’s working!”

“Jake!”

“You can’t resist the aviator charming sweetheart, give up!”

“Jacob Seresin!”

“Hahahaha!”

A few recruiters smiled quietly. Ark smirked, Wraith rolled his eyes and some commanders teased quietly to themself.

Even Sunset was on the call later on and no one notice her appearance until she’s asked, “Honey care to introduce us to him?”

Amber mentally cursed herself and sigh, laughing a bit, “Why yes! This is Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Him and his sister are highly respected here at the naval academy.”

Jake grinned brightly giving everyone on the call a two finger salute and said, “Hello there ladies and gentlemen!”

You could notice a few people in the call trying their hardest not to laugh and blush at the sight. The older generation rolled their eyes and laughed hard, they’re very much used it this due to the interrupted meetings.

The conversation between the group kept happening as Hangman gave a nice lighthearted opinion or two on the discussion at hand, listening in and commenting on the matter. Amber took notes tossing her idiot boyfriend a t-shirt to cover up.

Eventually the meeting came to a close as everyone saying goodbye and scheduling the next meeting for the upcoming weekend.

Amber sighed in relief with a smile, “And done! I’mma go change and we can-”

Jake grinned brightly and grabbed her hand, practically dragging them out the door as he yelled, “No need! I have your all stuff in the car.”

“Wait what—?!”

—-

Thank you so much for reading! Tell me, what did you think about it? ✈️

Please remember to like, share and comment.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @topgun-imagines @levijeanqueen @letsgotothefantasyworlds-blog @t-nd-rfoot @morgan108 @djs8891 @msrochelleromanofffelton @hangmanbrainrot @theloveoftoms @hanlueluver @blackheart-beauty @rooster-84 @starkleila @gcthvile @buckysteveloki-me and etc

[onebigfangirlworld]

Honor and Duty

Pairings: Tom "Iceman"Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Original Female Character, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell & Original Female Character

Summary: King Thomas and his husband, Prince Consort Peter, are living their best life with their daughter and heir to the throne, Princess Delilah.

When the two must go on a trip to a fellow kingdom to renegotiate a treaty, they leave Delilah in charge. Delilah is fully prepared for nothing to happen while she is in charge. However when she receives a threatening letter, Delilah must do everything she can to protect the kingdom and her family

Warnings: This is a medieval AU and does deal with some sexism towards the OFC, there is also kidnapping and blackmail (more warnings may be added as the story progresses)

Posted on AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

More to be added

[callsign-joyride]

Yankee Rose | J.H.S | 1.2

Summary: Getting called back to Top Gun couldn't have come at a better time for Erica "Miami" Kazansky. This was her fourth time being called back to Top Gun, and the failing marriage made her as excited as ever to go back. As one chapter ends, another one begins, but the connotation of that statement is up to interpretation.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC Erica "Miami" Kazansky

Content warnings: Me not knowing anything about the Navy, SMUT (this is FILTH), fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

xii. Workin For A Livin

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART | TAGLIST

A/N: This is the dress that I pictured Erica wearing if anyone was curious.

It took quite a bit of effort for Erica to talk Jake out of driving her to the awards ceremony. She didn’t want him to see the dress until they were there, but she also didn’t want to tell him that.

“Don’t you have to be there early for your speech?” She asked.

“Cyclone never said anything about it. We’re probably gonna be out late and I don’t want you driving if you’re gonna be tired.”

He had a point.

“I’m getting ready with Phoenix at her and Rooster’s apartment. The worst case is that I sleep on their couch if I’m too tired to make the fifteen minute drive from here to there.”

When the night for the awards ceremony rolled around, Jake walked into the bedroom right as Erica was putting the dress in a bag. He only caught a glimpse of the color, but that definitely wasn’t enough. He figured out that she didn’t want him to see the dress, but that didn’t stop him from imagining what it was going to look like. She put her bag by the door and they talked in the kitchen for a while before Phoenix came to pick her up. 

“I love you,” she said. They exchanged a quick kiss before she walked to the door.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”

Erica chuckled before leaving the house. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she got ready with Phoenix. Bradley was in and out of the room a lot, but that was something that she was used to.

“You look nice,” he said.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

They ended up being late to the ceremony. Bradley insisted on taking the Bronco, which resulted in arguments from Erica and Nat. (“We’re both wearing heels and dresses, Bradshaw. I hope you’re prepared and willing to carry two women in and out of that stupid thing,” Phoenix said. She only called him Bradshaw when she was mad at him.) Even though they were running a few minutes late at that point, Bradley still decided to drive like an old man. (“I’ll strangle you if you don’t step on the gas a little more. Jesus Christ, that lady is going faster than you and she looks like she’s seventy,” Erica said.) So they were fifteen minutes late because they didn’t leave on time. Everyone was socializing when they walked in, and Erica was glad that they hadn’t missed anything important.

“Holy shit,” Fanboy said as he hit Jake’s shoulders. Jake looked up and his jaw dropped. The dress that Erica picked was perfect in every sense of the word. Of course, he thought that it would look just as good, if not, better if it was on the floor, but that was neither here nor there. He watched as Erica talked to Warlock and his son before she finally started to walk over to the table that the rest of the Dagger Squad had been sitting at.

“You look great tonight,” he whispered into her ear. She smiled and leaned into him for a bit before Cyclone got on the stage. He made a short speech thanking everyone for being there, and announced that they were going to try and make the awards part of the banquet go as fast as possible so that everyone could have fun.

The Dagger Squad got called to the stage to accept their awards and that was when Jake gave his speech. It seemed like everyone was surprised, because for once, Jake put his ego away. Other people got their awards, and it wasn’t too long before music started to play. Erica had a sip of her drink before hitting the dancefloor with Phoenix. They made sure that everyone was out of their seats by the time Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire started. (Let’s be real, you can’t not dance to that song.) Everyone was laughing by the time the song had ended. Erica went back to the table to get her drink, and a few moments passed before she felt Jake’s arms around her waist.

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” He whispered into her ear. She could tell by the seductive tone that he wanted to do more than talk, so she took his hand and led him to a secluded and dark corner of the large room. She was quickly pushed against the wall with Jake’s hands on her hips as he kissed her neck. 

“Okay, not that I’m complaining, but I’m sure people are wondering where we are even though we didn’t leave the room,” she said.

“Let them. Is this a new perfume?” He asked.

She nodded her head.

“You should wear it more often. I was gonna say that I think the dress would look better on the floor but, you know, we were right next to Bradley and I don’t want Cyclone and Mav to have to break up a fight.”

She chuckled before moving one of her hands down to palm him over his pants. He grunted into her ear and moved his hips forward. The moment didn’t last long before she pulled away and started to actually walk away from him.

“I gotta go talk to Cyclone,” she said.

“You’re such a tease.”

Erica did have to talk to Cyclone, but she kept the conversation short because he was with his wife and she knew that Jake was dying to get home. They barely made it to the car because they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The drive felt like it was taking forever, but they were both getting more impatient the closer they got to the house. As they walked in, Erica took her shoes off while Jake unzipped her dress. 

She squealed as Jake carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He quickly kicked his shoes off and took off his shirt before getting on top of her and starting to kiss her. She wrapped one of her legs around his hips to pull him closer as she could feel him grind his hips into hers. She gasped when Jake moved down and removed her underwear.

“You don’t need these,” he said before throwing them somewhere behind him. In an instant, he licked a stripe up her aching cunt, causing her to moan. He was relentless as he fingered her while sucking on her clit.

“Fuck, just like that. Oh my God, Jake, I’m close,” she gasped.

“Good, cum on my fingers, baby.”

“Jake!” She yelled as she came. He slowed down and moved up to kiss her. His heart rate started to quicken as she took off his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He kicked them away and climbed back on top of her, this time so that the tip of his cock was right at her entrance.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. They both moaned once he was fully inside of her, and he gave her a moment to get adjusted to him. His thrusts started out slow, but they quickened once he hit her cervix.

“Hold on,” he said as he pulled out.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She gasped as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and put her legs on his shoulders. She almost screamed at the pleasure that came with the new angle.

“I’m close,” she said.

“I know.”

With that, he reached down and started rubbing fast circles on her clit. He groaned as he felt her clench around him as she came. The was what sent him over the edge as he stopped and shot hot ropes of cum inside of her. He slowly pulled out so that she could relax her legs. He laid on her chest for a few minutes to catch his breath before getting a warm washcloth to clean them both off.

“My dress!” Erica exclaimed in a fit of laughter.

“Honey, that is a fuck me dress if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sure it would be fine if we washed it.”

She chuckled and they cuddled together for a few minutes before deciding to shower. They fell asleep in each other’s arms that night.

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