#might have to draw the hangman too..

[very-small-giant]

working on an animatic for a scene at seacaster manor from freshman year so i wanted to sketch the family! still have to figure out red waste soldiers and harvestmen designs but here they are!!

[sometimesanalice]

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be. 

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza. 

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over. 

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps. 

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed  khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.  

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[thatlovinfeelin]

Swan Song | Jake Hangman Seresin |

Carole Bradshaw was pregnant when Goose died. Newly pregnant, too early to even know. The pregnancy was hard, not just emotionally but physically. The birth was even harder, but in the end Carole was left with a beautiful baby girl. She had Goose’s eyes from the start, big and brown, just like her big brother Bradley. Her smile was contagious from the very beginning and soon she was growing into a beautiful young woman. 

Y/N was very close with her big brother Bradley. They were nearly inseparable. So when Bradley joined the Navy, it took everything to convince Y/N that she shouldn’t follow in his footsteps. She went to college nearby, and got her degree slowly but surely. And once it was all said and done, and Bradley had a permanent position at Miramar, Y/N joined him there. 

“C’mon! Just take me for one drink!” You begged your older brother, “You never let me meet any of your friends! Even Penny said you should let me come!”

“Penny needs to mind her own business,” Bradley grumbled, throwing on one of your dad’s old Hawaiian shirts. 

“No, Penny definitely needs to butt in more,” You argued, “She wants me to actually make friends here. Outside of the studio!” 

“You’re the one who decided to move here,” Bradley pointed out. 

“And you’re the one who keeps me virtually locked up here!” 

“It’s my job to protect you. None of the people I work with are worth knowing, anyway, aside from Phoenix maybe.”

“Great, so introduce me to Phoenix!” You begged. 

“One drink,” He held up one finger, eyebrows pinched tight. He wasn’t joking. You were his baby sister, it was his job to look after you and protect you from everyone and everything. Including everyone he worked with. 

He wasn’t even sure if the Daggers knew he had a little sister. Phoenix and Bob knew, because they were Phoenix and Bob. But the others had no idea, and Bradley planned on keeping it that way if he could help it. He wanted you to stay as far away from military men as you possibly could 

“Two,” You bargained. 

“Fine, then you’re coming home.”

“You have to play me one song too,” You said firmly, “One round of Great Balls and I’ll be happy.”

“You have yourself a deal,” He sighed, “Now c’mon. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You threw your arms up in victory and ran to go change quickly out of your leotard. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot of the famous Hard Deck. Another five minutes after that and you had a cocktail in your hands as you watched Brad mingle with various people in uniform. He hated wearing his uniform to the Hard Deck, he always came home to change first. 

“Penny, my dear, can I get another one?” A blonde asked, “Thanks darlin!” 

You rolled your eyes and took another sip. Once the blonde had his new bottle of beer he turned his attention to you, which you were hoping to avoid. You had watched him watching just about every girl in this bar. He seemed to know everyone, and know all of the girls. It made you want to be sick. 

“Now who might you be, sweetheart?” 

You eyed Penny, who not so casually eyed the bell by the corner of the bar top. You wanted to laugh knowing she’d ring this guy in an instant for you. All you had to do was say the word. 

“Not your type,” You replied, taking another sip, “Try the leggy blonde at the other end. She’s drooling over all of you patches.”

“I don’t think I want a tag chaser,” He replied, southern draw on full display, “What’s your name?”

You huffed before setting your cocktail down on the bar in front of you and turning slightly to face the man, “They call me Swan.”

“You a pilot?” He questioned, eyebrows raised. 

“No, just related to one. My uncles gave me my own callsign when I was a kid,” you weren’t sure why you were even telling him any of this. You really wanted to tell him to fuck off back to whatever backwoods hovel he came from. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you want to see a little more of him. His green eyes were intoxicating, and you were certain he used that to his advantage with all of the ladies. You didn’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as he brought the bottle to his lips. You did a quick survey of the bar to see if Brad was anywhere around, but he was engrossed in a game of pool with several other uniforms. Maybe you could have a bit of fun tonight. Just for this one time. 

“What do they call you?” You asked, leaning in a little further. 

“Hangman.”

Fuck. You knew that name. He worked directly with Bradley, and obviously he had no idea who you were, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you. If he knew he would probably be fending off the guy at the other end of the bar who wouldn’t stop eyeing you. 

“Well, Hangman,” You said leaning in a little closer, “Why don’t you buy me another drink?”

He smiled slowly and waved over one of the other bar tenders, Grace you think her name was, and then there was another drink in your hand. 

“So, what brings you here? Never seen you before,” Hangman asks over the music. 

“My brother and I live nearby, finally convinced him to bring me along with him tonight,” You replied simply. 

“Do you need your brother’s permission?” He playfully questioned. 

“I think you’ll find, Hangman, that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You drank the rest of your cocktail and slid off of the barstool, “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and find out.”

And that was the first time you fucked Jake Hangman Seresin. In the bathroom of the Hard Deck, while your brother and all of his friends were just feet away. Brad never found out though. Instead he marched his way over to the piano and started playing Great Balls the second you reappeared from the bathroom. You laughed and skipped over, sliding onto the bench next to him. 

Jake was a little confused, watching you cozy up to Bradley when he’d been balls deep inside of you just minutes before. He was seething when you leaned over and kissed Rooster’s cheek. He didn’t think you were one to be fast and loose with everyone. But maybe he was wrong. After all, he didn’t even know your real name. 

“Who’s that with Rooster?” He asked Phoenix through gritted teeth. 

“Uh, I think that’s his little sister,” She replied, “Y/N, but everyone calls her Swan.”

Fuck. Jake Hangman Seresin was fucked. Because he’d just fucked Bradshaw’s baby sister. The baby sister that he only mentioned in passing because he had a picture of her in his locker and in his plane. Jake joked one day  that she had to be a hell of a girl and Rooster let it slip, as if he didn’t even realize he’d said it. Maybe he didn’t. But Jake felt like he was going to be sick. 

Did you know who he was? 

When the music stopped Rooster came over to the Dagger group, you following closely behind him. You had a soft smile on your face as Bradley went around the group and introduced you. But when he got to Hangman you smile turned almost innocent, so much so it made Jake hard again just looking at you. You were smiling like you didn’t have his dick in your mouth, or so deep in your pussy that you kept saying you could feel him in your stomach. 

“Hangman, this is my baby sister,” Bradley grumbled, “Y/N, this is Jake. But we all call him Hangman.”

You smiled again and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Swan.” 

You were both very much fucked. Because all either one of you wanted to do was grab the other and continue what you started in the bathroom. All you wanted to do was kiss him silly in front of everyone, and then drag him to his no doubt, big pickup truck, and fuck him in it. Truth be told, that’s all Jake wanted to do too. 

“Nice to meet you, Swan.”

[arcane-vagabond]

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Three

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. Isaac Cassidy's gang is still hanging about, stirring up trouble in the name of their fallen leader. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Content Warnings: Talks of business, Talks of unsavory characters, Flirting, Jake being a menace, Bradley being kind of cute, Feelings of being watched, Paranoia, Thunderstorms, Reader gets scared, Cuddling, Talks of the future, and a Proposal. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist 1 || Playlist 2

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say?” You asked Benjamin as he shoved a wad of shirts into one of his suitcases. Rolling your eyes, you stepped into his room, removing the shirts to fold them neatly into a pile as he started in on his pants. “Would you stop shoving everything in? You’re going to have wrinkles in everything by the time you get there.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes, setting his pants down on the bed before crossing his arms over his chest.

“You nag just like Mother used to,” he grumbled. You shot him a dirty look before dropping the shirt in your hands and moving towards the door. Benjamin let out an exasperated growl before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Please help me pack.”

You let out a humph and a roll of your eyes as you continued to fold his clothes neatly for him.

“Now why must you go off to San Francisco so suddenly?” You prodded.

“It’ll be good for the business,” he explained. “Mr. Kerner has invited Maverick and me to join him at his firm to go over the essentials and to tour other mines so that we might see how the operations work. Maverick won’t join us until later, but I’ll go ahead to get some of the legal proceedings outs of the way.”

“You’re a lawyer,” you hummed, a frown tugging at your lips, “so why the sudden interest in investing in a gold mine?”

“It’ll be good money, Scout,” he insisted. “It’ll set my children and even yours up for life. Hell, this could be an addition to our legacy, to the life we’ve started out here.”

Financial security was tempting, especially in uncertain times, and while the ranch itself was making money, there was no promise that it would tomorrow. You supposed that it was wise to venture into other pursuits—just in case one of them ended up a failure.

“I can see by the look on your face that you don’t agree,” Benjamin hummed, pursing his lips.

“No, it’s not that,” you grumbled, shaking your head. Benjamin arched a brow in your direction in a silent question, and you let out a long sigh before continuing. “I’m concerned about the safety of this town. News of gold is going to draw in all sorts from all over, and only a fraction of them will have good intentions. Did you consider that?”

Benjamin didn’t respond right away, the thoughts racing through his head almost visible in his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head, moving across the room to gather a couple of items from his dresser.

“You worry too much.”

You scoffed. “You worry too little.”

“That’s why we’re such a great team, baby sister,” he grinned, spinning back around on his heel to face you. “Together, we worry just the right amount.”

You glared at him, though there was no real heat to it.

“Bad things are bound to happen anywhere,” he reasoned with a sigh, plopping down on the bed beside you, arms outstretched across the width of the mattress. “The country is expanding west, Scout. There were already unsavory characters here, as you very well know.”

You did know, the memory of Isaac’s cold, black eyes flashing in your mind and sending a shiver up your spine.

“That doesn’t mean we need to give others more reason to follow suit,” you muttered, picking at some non-existent lint on your skirt. Benjamin let out a long sigh before turning his head to look at you.

“You know,” he drawled thoughtfully, “you could just seduce them all like you did Seresin. I mean, it worked out pretty well last ti-”

Benjamin let out a startled squawk as you brought the pillow down on his face, his arms flailing as he scrambled to sit up as you reared your hand back to hit him again.

“I did not seduce him,” you hissed, trying desperately to hold back your laughter as Benjamin nearly collapsed onto the floor in his frenzy.

“Well, you certainly didn’t stop him,” he snickered, dodging your next blow just in time, cowering as you advanced on him. “In fact, there’s been more than one occasion where I’ve walked in on the two of you engaging in-”

The next blow had him stumbling on his feet. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, the heat running down your neck and to your ears. Benjamin rubbed his jaw, pulling his fingers back to inspect them.

“Kissing,” he said, glancing over at you. “I was going to say kissing. Your guilty conscious gets the better of you, Scout.”

You scowled at him, raising the pillow once more, only stopping once he raised his hands in surrender.

“I yield,” he chuckled, dropping his hands as you dropped yours. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, you know.”

“I’d rather you didn’t say anything,” you retorted, setting the pillow back in its proper place.

“I think it’s good you’ve found happiness out here,” he continued, ignoring your comment. “I’m happy that you’ve managed to find someone who makes you happy rather than someone who you think would make our father happy. Jake is a fairly decent step up from Henry Cargill.”

Your lips puckered at the name. You would have lived comfortably had you chosen to stay behind in Maryland and marry Henry as your late father would have wanted before his death, but you knew you made the right decision in choosing Jake.

Even if he still hadn’t proposed after all these months.

“I have to go run a few things to Penny,” you announced, making a beeline for the door.

“Sure you do,” Benjamin scoffed. “Give my regards to Jake, then.”

The fan in your hand did little to quell the heat of the changing seasons. It was early spring, a time where it was too hot for your winter wardrobe, but still too hot for your summer clothes. Your arm was beginning to hurt from how hard you were fanning yourself, and you closed your eyes to give them a rest from the glare of the sun overhead.

You hated the heat.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

You pried an eye open to see two green ones already on you. You straightened up, turning to face Jake fully as he smirked down at you.

“Jake,” you nodded, managing to keep the eager smile at bay as you batted your eyes up at him.

“You look like you’re roastin’, honey girl,” he chuckled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Why’d you wear this if it’s gonna have you miserable?”

“I’ll be too cold in my summer clothes,” you explained with a sigh. Jake’s eyes twinkled as his smirk grew lascivious.

“I can think of a few ways to keep you warm,” he purred, a different heat rising to your cheeks at his words. You swatted him with your fan as you glanced around to see if anyone had heard him.

“Behave,” you warned, snapping the fan shut and tapping the end into his chest. He pouted, placing a hand to his chest in faux hurt.

“Me?” He asked, batting his lashes. “You’re accusing me of misbehaving? Well, now I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you are,” you snorted, withdrawing your hand to continue fanning yourself. Jake watched you for a moment, drinking you in as sweat ran down the column of your throat, his eyes following it down and continuing on as he took in the rest of you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted, and you shot him a glare.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snapped, drawing his attention back to your face, a sheepish look gracing his features at having been caught.

“Like what?”

“You know damn good and well what you were doing,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’re not a married couple, and people already talk.”

“Let them,” he said, leaning forward. You pushed at his chest, a thunderous look on your face as he chuckled. “We’re practically married, anyway.”

Your temper simmered beneath your skin as you replied, “Not without a proper proposal and ceremony, we’re not.”

“All good things to those who wait, honey girl,” he smirked once more. You pursed your lips, lifting your chin as you watched the people of Maverick pass by.

“The butcher’s son asked me for my hand again yesterday morning,” you mused. “If you don’t get your act together soon, I’m going to let him start believing it’s a possibility.”

“Honey girl, you best watch it now,” Jake warned, eyes growing dark as a glint shone in his eyes.

“Or what?” You challenged, lifting your chin in defiance. Jake’s frown turned into a dangerous smirk. He squared his shoulders, taking a step closer to you before leaning down close enough for you to inhale the scent was so distinctly him. He leaned in, the heat rolling off of him and causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Your hand came up to brace yourself against his arm as his other wound around your waist, squeezing slightly.

“Or,” he purred, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “I’ll put you over my knee and leave your ass so red and raw, you’ll be shifting in that pew at church Sunday morning.”

You let out a shuddering breath, chest heaving as he pulled away, a smug smirk sat firmly on his lips as he shot you a wink.

“You look flustered, Scout,” he grinned, golden hair shining in the sunlight and creating a halo effect that had you gaping. “Looks like you might need to sit down before you faint.”

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled, shooting him a half-hearted glare. He chuckled and leaned down to peck your cheek.

“Takes one to know one,” he murmured as you swatted at him again. He dodged you, hopping back.

“Jake!”

You turned to see Bradley standing on the porch to the Hard Deck, posture nervous as he shifted on his feet and his eyes darted around. Jake sighed and let out a long sigh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He peered over at you as the other man gestured towards the blond to come over.

“I gotta go, honey girl,” Jake said, pursing his lips as he shot Bradley a glare. “Bradshaw wants to make sure his costume is perfect for the play in a couple of days, and I somehow got roped into helping.”

“Will you be by for dinner?” You asked. “I’m making dumplings.”

Jake let out a moan as he fixed you with adoring eyes. “I swear to god, I’m going to marry you.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you teased, a smile playing at your lips.

“Jake!”

“Jesus, Bradshaw! It’s a costume for a school play, not life and death,” Jake snapped over his shoulder. “Give me a damn minute!”

You snickered as Bradley rolled his eyes and stomped back into the saloon. Jake grinned down at you as he toyed with a strand of your hair.

“When’s Benji goin’ to be home?” He purred, eyes lidded as he looked you up and down once more.

“He won’t,” you told him, and his attention snapped up to you. “He’s going to San Francisco for business.”

“He what?” Jake asked, frowning. “He’s leaving you on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s only for a few weeks, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Jake.”

You looked to see Javy now standing on the porch, hands on his hips as he nodded at you.

“Come on,” he hollered across the street, peering over his shoulder for a moment to see into the saloon. “Bradley’s freaking out. You can canoodle later.”

You looked back at Jake who looked like he was going to lose his temper at any moment, bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“He’s coming!” You hollered back, a smile on your face as you rested a hand on Jake’s chest. You lowered your head to try and meet his gaze. “Canoodle?”

“I don’t know where he hears these words,” he griped, shaking his head. “You’d think the damn world was ending with how Bradley’s going on about this whole thing. It’s a play, for Christ’s sake.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you shrugged. “He and Birdie are cute together.”

Jake hummed but didn’t answer, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll see you later tonight?” He asked, backing away slowly. You nodded barely hiding your smile behind your fan as he grinned, turning and trotting over towards the saloon. You watched silently, and with one last wave, he was inside.

You let out a sigh, wondering just when exactly you had become so lovesick as to miss him already. A tingle shot up the base of your neck, and you whipped your head towards the end of the street, the feeling of being watched suddenly prominent. You frowned as your scanned the street, shaking your head as you saw no one or nothing out of place. That was happening to you a lot recently, the feeling of being watched. You always managed to chalk it up to residual feelings from your encounter with Isaac not too long ago.

The bell to the door of the general store rang out, startling you out of your thoughts as Hondo grinned down at you.

“Well, good afternoon, Miss Scout,” he grinned, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in. “Have you been waiting long? I didn’t think I’d take so long getting that shipment ready.”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head and the rest of the worrying thoughts out of your head. “Not at all. Do you have anything new in today?”

It was late, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. The ranch hands had retired to their own homes only an hour before, and you had finished cleaning up from dinner not long after. Jake hadn’t shown up, and you were sure that Bradley’s panic induced state had something to do with that.

The wind had been picking up steadily over the course of the past hour, and the sound of distant thunder rolled into the confines of your home. You usually found the sound of thunder soothing, but for some reason it had you on edge tonight. The rain had started off as a few scattered sprinkles and then quickly dissolved into a downpour, the wind howling and rattling the windows. You had taken up purchase on the sofa, needlework in hand as you attempted to occupy your mind with anything other than worrying thoughts that nagged at you.

The fireplace crackled, casting a soothing heat that helped to ease your mind some, but you quickly set your needlework aside to get up and make yourself some tea.

The kitchen was dark save for the candle you had lit to allow yourself some light, the light from the flame flickering and casting ominous shadows in your usually cozy home. The panes of the window rattled as another gust of wind rammed into the house, and you tapped your finger on the countertop as you chewed on your bottom lip. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and your heart stopped as your eyes caught the shadow of a figure by the barn. You narrowed your eyes, trying to peek through the darkness and into the shadows. Surely no one would be standing out in this weather. And looking into your house of all places? Still, a sickening feeling boiled in the pit of your stomach, and adrenaline started to course through your veins.

Another crack of lightning crashed in the night, startling you enough to jump, but one look toward the barn had you letting out a shaky breath. There was no one there this time, and you were starting to wonder if there ever was to begin with. Were you going crazy?

The creek of the floorboards behind you coupled with another peel of thunder had you whirling around, a scream caught in your throat at the sight of a shadow in the doorway.

“Scout?”

It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but the sight of Jake standing in front of you had a wave of relief washing over you, a tear escaping the corner of your eye unbidden.

“Honey girl,” he cooed, walking forward, his arms reaching for you, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, a hand over your mouth as you pushed the sob working its way up back down. Jake was soaked from head to toe, droplets dripping onto the floor as he rubbed your arms in a soothing motion.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. “What’s going on? What has you so worked up?”

You felt stupid. The shadow you saw must have been Jake checking on the horses. Yes, that had to have been him. You were letting your paranoia get the better of you.

“You’re dripping water all over my floors,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes widened, looking from you down to the floor before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, “I would have been here sooner, but-”

“You’re here now,” you said, moving past him and towards the laundry you hadn’t had a chance to put away yet. “You need to change or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Scout,” he started, voice wary as he watched you scurry about. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

You stood up, a clean shirt clutched in your hands as you looked back at him. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He studied you for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive,” you corrected. “Now go and get changed. I’ll warm up some food for you.”

Jake didn’t take long, changing and eating quickly as you took care of the odds and ends around the house. Neither of you spoke a word, but Jake’s eyes watched you as you pointedly refused to meet his gaze.

The two of you retired to the parlor, Jake reading as you started to doze. He reached for you, pulling you across the sofa and into his arms as he let out a contented sigh. You chuckled, shaking your head as you practically burrowed into his side. His fingers stroked up and down the length of your arm, adding to the calm that enveloped you even as the storm raged outside.

“You ever think about what our life together is going to be like?”

You hummed, lifting your head to peer up at him through sleepy eyes. “I do.”

“You ever think about what kind of house you’d want?” Jake continued, staring into the fireplace.

“Sometimes,” you nodded slowly. “I’d like a house big enough for our kids and grandkids to play in. Somewhere we can grow old in.”

“I’d like that too,” he murmured, hands moving down to play with your fingers absentmindedly. “I want a large house with enough land to support ourselves. Nothing like the amount of land Benji’s got himself here, but enough that we wouldn’t have to struggle.”

Silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You soaked up the feeling of the moment, mind drifting towards sleep as Jake continued to play with your fingers.

“I’m going to build us a big, ol’ house,” he continued quietly. “I’m going to build you the kitchen of your dreams and set up your own little garden while I’m at it. You’re not going to want for anything, Scout.”

You hummed, feeling the touch of cool metal slide onto your left ring finger, a furrow in your brow as your brain tried to claw its way back to the land of the conscious.

“I can’t give you all these fancy jewels or take you to Paris and London for holidays, but I can give you my heart and my devotion. You’ll never have to question me or my loyalty to you, honey girl.”

You pried your eyes open, gasping at the diamond that now glittered on your hand. Jake brushed his lips against your temple, breathing you in as you struggled to catch up with what was happening, tears filling your eyes as a smile curled on your lips.

“Scout,” Jake started. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A/N: I missed these two so much oh my goooooooood. And how about that ending, huh?? That's crazy lol Anyway, I'm hoping to have some time to work on a few more updates for next week, but we'll see. I'll run a poll for the next update, but let me know thoughts! Both on the next update and what you thought of this chapter!

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 1

a/n: I got this in my head and couldn’t find another fic that mentioned it. This is the first fic I've ever written.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/reader

Warning: brief mentions of car crash and cheating

Word Count: 1100 ish

Summary: Jake must defend his call sign to a stranger, and he is on a timer. 

Previous          Masterlist          Next

You checked the timer on your phone for the third time, sighing at the 32 minutes remaining. One hour, every week, socializing with strangers. That was the deal you made with your therapist. 

Eighteen months after a horrific car crash killed your fiancé and childhood best friend your therapist suggested you ‘get back out there.’ It wasn’t just their deaths that you were working through in your twice monthly therapy sessions. It was the fact that she was blowing him when they crashed. You thought that was something that only happened in movies and tv shows.  Your grief was… complicated. 

So here you were at the bar of the week nursing a whiskey sour until the timer on your phone said you could go home. You surreptitiously glance around. Judging by the uniforms of the other patrons and the décor the Hard Deck was a military bar. You massage your temples and check your phone again, 29 minutes to go. 

“Need some company while you wait for your date?” You glance to your left at the southern drawl. An unfairly handsome man in a uniform with green eyes is looking down at you and you stare a little too long. “I’ve been watching you check your phone,” he explains, “he’s an idiot to keep you waiting.“ 

“I'm not expecting company,” you roll your eyes at him. “But thank you for assuming I’m being stood up. It was definitely the vibe I was going for.” You take another sip of your drink so you have something to do with your hands. 

A slow smile breaks out across his face. “In that case I’m Hangman.”

“I'm sorry your parents hated you.”

At your deadpan response he chuckles. “It’s my call sign,” he explains smugly. “I'm a fighter pilot.” He is easily the most attractive man in the bar and he knows it, and there is something about his inflated ego that makes you want to pop it. Just a little.

“Hangman like the spelling game?” you ask and he nods and brushes your arm, leaning into you.

You hum noncommittally, cocking your head as you look at him. “You know some schools discourage playing hangman.” You tell him. “They don’t want to encourage violence in children so they play Sleepy Baby instead.”

“Sleepy Baby?” He asks in confusion, leaning back.

“Yeah, you draw a baby in a crib instead of a man on the gallows,” you grin at his scandalized expression. “You could change your pilot name to Sleepy Baby, so you don’t scare the children and all.” 

“Darling, you are the only one I’d let call me ‘baby’.” You laugh at his smooth recovery. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He is charming despite his ego and his intense stare is giving you butterflies. 

“Tic-tac-toe.” 

“Imma call you Hugs and Kisses and you can call me Baby.” You can’t help but laugh at his confidence. 

“So if you are not waiting for anyone why are you always checking on your phone?” The pilot sits down beside you leaning forward again so his knees brush against yours. 

You contemplate your answer before deciding that fuck it, you will be at another bar next week and will never see the handsome pilot again so might as well be honest. “My therapist has suggested that I should ‘socialize with adults that are not coworkers or the children I work with.’” You explain. “So one hour a week I must socialize.” You wave your hand vaguely at the bar. 

“Are you one of those teachers banning hangman?” He asks in mock outrage, graciously glossing over most of your explanation. 

“Child Activity Coordinator at a local library actually, but yeah I’ve been know to play a few rounds of Sleepy Baby.” You say with a shrug.“ Some parents get upset at certain things and it’s easier just to avoid it than die on the hill of hangman. Plus there was one little boy who would cry when the man was hung so it was best to avoid the tears.”

“He would cry every time?” The green eyed pilot has a fond smile on his face. 

You nodded. “I mean the same kid also cried when someone stole his imaginary kitten so some things can’t be helped but sometimes it’s just easier to avoid it.” You said with a grin remembering the moment. 

“It’s hard to believe we live in a world where imaginary kittens aren’t even safe.” He shakes his head solemnly and you burst out laughing. The unexpected arrival of the cocky pilot has been a delightful addition to your evening. 

“So one hour a week?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “How much time do I have left?”

You check your phone, “you have 17 minutes, Flyboy.” You grin. “So what made you join the AirForce?”

He looks offended. “Darling, I'm a Naval Aviator.” 

You blink blankly at him. “I was genuinely not aware the Navy had pilots.” 

“The navy has aircraft carriers,” he grins “who do you think flies the planes?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it and I think I just assumed it was a Navy / Air Force cooperation situation.” You trail off still thinking before shrugging. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

“I could teach you something else,” he sends you a flirty wink.

“I think I’ve reached my knowledge quota for the day,” you laugh back. “But what did you learn today?”

“That my call sign breaks the heart of little boys and their stolen imaginary kittens, and I could use a therapist that suggests going to a bar.”

“Good news Sleepy Baby, I don't think you needed the help to make it here.”

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket notifying you that your hour is up and a not so small part of you is disappointed. You pull your phone out and hold up the timer to the pilot in front of you. “That’s time.”

“Can I get your number?” He asks hopefully as you gather your purse and finish your drink. “We could spend the full hour together next time, therapists advice on socializing and all.”

“I’ll pass this time, but next time, who knows?” You say as you stand, feeling a little sad that you will never see him again. 

“As long as you remember, Hugs and Kisses, I’m in the Navy.” 

You look up at him grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember.” 

As you leave you walk by the jukebox glancing down and see the perfect song on the track lists. You hit the number grinning to yourself as you walk to the door. 

When you reach the exit you turn around and find the green eyed pilot has made his way back to some others in uniforms at the pool table. “Hey Baby,” you call out over the noise of the bar. You grin when he looks up eagerly as the Village People begins to play over the jukebox. “This song’s for you!”  You shoot him a mock salute as you walk out the door. 

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part II

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Part I | Masterlist

Jake watches you navigate your way back to the table with a scowl; it’s just like you to make an untimely entrance. He sets your fresh cocktail down beside your first, half-empty one, and takes his seat. You arrive in silence and sit down without looking at either Bradley or Jake.

“Everything alright?” Bradley asks, trying to mask the concern in his voice by clearing his throat a couple of times.

You place your hand on the stem of the new glass before you, twisting it between your fingers. “Thanks for the drink,” you say stoically.

Jake starts chewing on the inside of his lip, hoping that Bradley isn’t stupid enough to disclose who’d gotten it for you.

Bradley shoots Jake a furtive glance before looking back at you. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Uh,” you say. “I’m going to get going soon.”

Jake watches you carefully as your fingers slide up and down the stem. The disappointment he suffers at the thought of you leaving is downright distressing considering how displeased he’d been with your attendance in the first place. Moreover, he can’t decide if he’s angrier with himself or with you for the physical reaction that accompanies this unexpected flood of feelings. And so, before he can stop himself, Jake makes the following ridiculous bid for your attention: “Already? We’ve hardly scratched the surface of the environment disaster at the heart of international trade. Thought you could draw up a list of tropical fruit that I’m never to bring up in conversation again.”

Bradley glances over at him with elevated eyebrows and a barely concealed smirk for which Jake nearly kicks him under the table.

“And once we’ve thoroughly unpacked that dilemma,” Jake continues, “there’s a whole slew of domestic issues we could sink our teeth into. We haven’t even begun to discuss public sector corruption!”

You look at Jake sharply. “You want to talk about corruption in the public sector?” you say, your eyes igniting faster than fireworks. “Look no further than the military.”

“I was hoping we could stick to judicial misconduct or the like. You know, keep it from getting too personal,” Jake says with a slight smile that he fights to keep from spreading further.

To your right, he can see Bradley shaking his head with a widening grin that he doesn’t bother hiding.

You nod tauntingly. “Sure, sure,” you reply. “Ignore the blatant abuse of power happening right under your nose.”

Jake smiles smugly. “Ignorance is bliss, darlin’.”

You give him a sour look. “You’re despicable.”

“And you are intolerable,” he retorts, although he’s not truly annoyed; not anymore. Not by a long shot. He’d rather sit here and have you bad mouth him six ways from Sunday than watch you take your leave. “Drink your drink,” he says, almost hoping that his inappropriately commanding tone might spur you on.

You glare at him but bring the glass to your lips and take a sip which he finds exasperatingly sensual.

“Right,” Bradley says. “I’d say that’s my cue.” He lets out a sigh of feigned fatigue as he gets up and stretches his legs.

You eye him curiously while Jake gives him an ominous sort of look. “Where are you going?” you ask.

“Bar,” he says.

“You’re gonna miss our fistfight,” Jake says while you look pointedly at Bradley’s untouched beer.

“Shots,’ he says, answering your silent question. Then, he glances at Jake. “Honestly, my money’s on Y/N but you’ll have to hold off till I get back.”

“I won’t have any,” you say. “Shots.”

“Afraid the booze might make you more agreeable?” Jake quips.

You throw him a harsh glance. “Keep dreaming, cowboy,” you say.

“You’re right, that stick up your ass can’t be helped,” Jake says.

“Hangman!” Bradley shakes his head.

You roll your eyes at Jake and say, “You’ll be happy to know that I’m leaving after this round.”

Jake watches you levelly. “Why would that make me happy?” he asks. Bradley purses his lips and slowly starts to back away from the table.

“Because I’m intolerable?” you say, attempting to imitate Jake’s sarcastic drawl.

Jake laughs. “I meant that in the best way possible.”

“Such a gentleman,” you reply derisively, meeting his gaze across the table.

“I’m not even trying,” he responds with a broad smile.

“Perhaps it’s time to start.”

Jake leans into the table. “Would that make you hate me less?”

You shrug. “I doubt it.”

He laughs, watching you gulp down the rest of your second cocktail. You stand up, swaying slightly on the spot, so he gets out of his seat as well, holding his arm out in case you lose your balance. “You alright?” he asks.

You bring a hand to your head and shut your eyes briefly. “Just a little dizzy.”

Jake walks around the table so that he’s closer to you. “Why’re you leaving?” he asks, his hand hovering near your arm, ready to catch you if you fall. “Am I getting on your nerves?”

You glance up at him with a small chuckle. “You must think the world revolves around you or something.”

Jake grins. “Your world, maybe.”

You shake your head but you’re still wearing a faint smile. “You wish.”

Jake tries not to stare at you too much because the more he does, the less intolerable he seems to find you. In fact, he’s beginning to find you exceptionally tolerable. He could probably tolerate you all night long. Several times, even. He swallows uncomfortably as you take a hold of his forearm to step around him. “Why, then?” he asks, turning his hand palm-up so that he could grasp your fingers before you let go of him.

You lift your gaze to look him in the eye and he nearly loses his own balance. “My boyfriend’s coming to get me,” you say, clearing your throat as you take your hand out of his.

Jake watches you steadily. “Heard he’s a peach.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he says when you veer trying to dodge your own chair.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Jake’s eyes slide up and down your figure as you walk ahead of him. “Not gonna argue with that,” he mutters under his breath.

You either don’t hear him or pretend not to because you continue toward the exit without turning around. He picks up his pace to get the door for you and you give him a disgruntled look in response.

He follows you outside, watching as you make your way toward a white Mustang whose driver he can’t quite make out. He trails after you, trying to curb his mounting distaste for a man he’s never even met.

You glance up at him in surprise when he catches up to you. “Are you still here?”

“It ain’t my fault your boyfriend can’t even be bothered to step out of his car to get your door,” Jake says, pulling on the handle of the passenger door. He bends down to peek into the vehicle. “Howdy,” he says with a broad grin.

Your boyfriend looks up at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion which Jake finds amusing and oddly satisfying.

“Uber?” Jake asks, feeling rather bold.

“Uh,” your boyfriend starts, still puzzled.

“Seresin, move,” you growl, shoving him aside.

“Joking,” Jake says, ducking his head again once you’re inside the car. “Just delivering your crabby companion. Extra temper, hold the affection. Attitude on the side.”

You give him a sour look while your boyfriend furrows his eyebrows. “Jake, shut the fucking door,” you say crossly.

“There’s that extra temper I promised,” he says, winking before finally closing your door.

Jake straightens his back as the Mustang drives away, expelling a long, dramatic sigh. Now that you’ve left, he has an entire evening devoid of futile bickering ahead of him, for which he should be immensely grateful. He watches the car take a turn and disappear into a cloud of dust. Then he watches the dust cloud resentfully for a few moments, thinking that Bradley had been right after all, because your boyfriend does seem like the shithead type.

He sucks his cheeks in with a grimace after his jaw cramps from clenching too hard, and then he makes his way back into the Hard Deck. Bradley is back at the table but there are no shots in sight.

“Thought we were getting hammered,” Jake says, sitting across from his friend.

Bradley looks up at Jake as he takes his seat. “Y/N take off already?”

Jake nods. “Fucking finally.”

Bradley snorts. “Right.”

Jake gives him a bitter look. “You gonna tell me about the boyfriend, or what?”

Bradley squints his eyes at him with a smirk. “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

“You’re dying to tell me,” Jake bites back.

Bradley rolls his eyes with a sigh. “He’s just such a fucking dick, man. Goes out late, comes home drunk. Doesn’t tell her where he’s going half the time. She’s constantly calling me because it’s the middle of the night and he’s not home yet.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “Why’s she with this douchebag?”

Bradley shakes his head. “Apparently, she loves him.”

Jake stares at him. “Bullshit.”

But before Bradley can respond, his phone buzzes on the table. He looks down to read the message. “Payback and Fanboy are on their way. Are we going to the club?”

Jake takes a drink of his beer and hisses. “I think I’m gonna head home, actually.”

“What about guys’ night out?” Bradley asks in mild outrage.

Jake shrugs. “Another night. I’m about ready for bed, your girl really tired me out.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s all that effort you put into pretending to hate her guts.”

Jake rises from his seat. “Look, I don’t hate her, alright?” he says. “I just find her extremely exasperating.”

Bradley grins. “I wonder why.”

“Rooster,” Jake says with a phony smile. “Can it, will ya?”

…

It’s past midnight when there’s a frantic banging on Jake’s door. He lifts himself off the couch, wondering how Bradley managed to get drunk enough to lose his keys. His roommate is many things, but irresponsible is not one of them.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he calls, shuffling to the door as the knocking intensifies. He pulls on the door with a tired sigh and freezes upon seeing you on his doorstep.

“Is Bradley here?” you ask, your voice strained. You’re blinking up at him with sparkling eyes.

Jake’s entire body reacts as if your arrival has triggered some sort of fight or flight response: his spine goes rigid; his muscles taut; his jaw set. He flicks on the corridor light and sees that your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet; you’ve been crying. “What happened?” he asks, the tone of his voice sounding much more aggressive than he intends.

You inhale abruptly, clamping your mouth shut to keep it from trembling.

Without waiting for a response, Jake reaches over the threshold to pull you inside. “Get in here,” he says roughly, his hand connecting with the back of your shoulder as he directs you into the house. He shuts the door behind you and then gives you an unyielding look. “Did he do something to you?” he asks sharply.

You shake your head. “Where’s Bradley?” you ask weakly, blinking away your tears as you wipe your face repeatedly with your hand.

“He’s not home,” Jake says, his brows knotted in alarm. “Can you tell me what happened, please?”

You glance up to meet his gaze and it takes every ounce of his self-control to keep from cupping your face in his hands and kissing away every last tear. He clenches his teeth to get a grip on himself, frustrated that you’re uncharacteristically silent at a time when he actually needs you to speak.

Jake takes a step toward you and you lift your face to maintain eye contact. “Either you tell me what the hell happened,” he says dangerously. “Or I’m gonna go find Mustang and ask him myself. And something tells me that my conversation with him won’t be the talking kind.”

Read Part 3

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[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 20

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake comes clean and Daisy has to talk to Penny

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

I managed to make it until we were back at my apartment before I broke. Tasha was spending the night at Javy’s place, which meant it was just the two of us and after a  few hours of thinking up the worst possible scenarios for what Jake had to tell me, I was ready to cry, scream, or throw up. Or do all three at once, it was a toss up really.

“I’m going to sit down on the couch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” I said, putting my hands on Jake’s shoulder to stop him from kissing me when we walked in the door. “Because I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake sighed, running a hand over his face.

“We’re not breaking up, let’s start with that,” Jake’s voice was tired but serious, his words striking out one of my fears. I nodded, running my hands up and down my pajama pants, trying to ease my anxiety with the familiar feeling of the fuzzy fabric. “Rooster and I might be deployed soon.” The news hit me like a blow to the gut, deployed? What happened over Thanksgiving had been a mission, just a few days apart and that had been hell.

“How long?” I heard myself ask, knees folding into my chest. Jake sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms, chin resting on top of my head.

“I don’t know, Wildflower.” 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know and I couldn’t tell you if I did, it would be classified,” Jake kissed my hair. “I don’t have any details, I don’t even know if it’s happening. It’s all just whispers behind closed doors and rumors at this point, which is why I didn’t want to say anything.” 

“I love you,” It’s all I could think to say. Jake’s thumb brushed over my cheeks and that’s when I realized I was crying, “I love you so much.”

“I know, baby, I love you too,” Jake held me tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

“Tell me next time, okay?” 

“I promise, Wildflower. I’m sorry I worried you,” Jake kissed the top of my head, rubbing circles into my back. “I love you so much.” 

My first thought was to run, to get away but the second that crossed my mind, the idea of being without Jake hit me like a truck. I didn’t want to be without him, I couldn’t imagine not having Jake in my life. He had managed to intertwined every part of my life with his, from my writing to his family, we were bound together. Running away now would be running away forever. Right?

“Why don’t we call Penny in the morning?” Jake kissed my hair again, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Maybe we can call mama and pops too.”

“I’d like that,” I nuzzled into his neck, “How long are deployments usually?” Jake sighed, bringing me onto his lap.

“It depends, there’s short deployments of just a few months and then there’s deployments that can last over a year.” A year? My grip on Jake’s waist tightened, “It’s probably not going to be that long, baby but if it is, we’ll figure it out.” After a few minutes of silence that felt like hours, Jake whispered, “You’ll be waiting here when I get back?” 

“Always,” I answered without hesitation. I took Jake’s face in my hands, staring him down even though I still wanted to puke a little bit. Jake’s eyes were intense, his brow creased in worry. “I’m not going anywhere and no matter where you go, you’re coming back home to me. Deal?” 

“Deal.” Jake closed the distance between our lips, kissing me soft and sweet. There was no rushing, it was as if we had all the time in the world, and if we did have all that time, what was a few months apart? He pulled my legs fully around him and stood, never breaking the kiss as he carried me to the bedroom. 

When he laid me back on the bed and stripped me bare, Jake took his time. He covered my body in kisses, worshiping every inch like he was committing it to memory, and when we finished, he pulled me into his chest and held me tight all through the night. 

The next morning I called Penny, who evidently had been waiting to hear from me. I tried to ignore the fact that everyone around me probably already knew about the deployment, especially the fact that Tasha hadn’t said anything. Penny invited me over and Jake dropped me off,

“Call me when you’re ready,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, cowboy.” 

Penny greeted me with a hug and a mug of peppermint tea, she looked cozy in her navy pajama set and robe, pulling me into her living room.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Penny passed me a cream blanket that was soft.

“First thing I wanted to do was run,” Penny hummed, rubbing my knee. “Now I just feel a little numb.” 

“I thought having grown up with my father’s deployments would have made things easier the first time my ex-husband deployed but it didn’t.” She sipped her tea, staring ahead where a picture of her and Amelia hung on the wall. “I spent the first month crying in bed, almost got fired from my job. Then one of the other wives in his unit, an older woman named Vera, sat me down for a talk.” 

Penny looked the picture of calm as she spoke and I envied her for it. What I didn’t envy was how many years, deployments, and undoubted heartache that it took to cultivate that calm. 

“She first told me that I looked like crap,” I chuckled along with Penny. “Then she told me I was going to join her walking group. Most of the wives in the unit met up every morning and walked a mile around base. If we had news, we shared it, some women talked about how their kids were handling things, we organized what we were sending in care packages, and we traded recipes. Anything to keep ourselves sane.” 

“Are you asking me to join your walking group?” Penny pursed her lips at me, rolling her eyes. “What, you, me, and Ames could totally go for walks on the beach before school.” 

“Good luck dragging that girl out of bed early,” She pushed my knee, laughing. “But seriously, Daisy, one of the best things you can do while he’s gone is stay busy and stay connected with me and with him.”

“How am I supposed to talk to him if I don’t know where he is?” 

“You’ll most likely be able to call him but if you want to send him letters, you’ll give them to command and they’ll send the letters to him when they can.” When they can. That wasn’t very reassuring.

“What else do I need to know?” 

X

I spent the day getting my affairs in order, scheduling a stop on my mail, making sure all my bills were on auto pay, and updating my will and life insurance policies. By the time it was lunch, my head was pounding from all of the tedious details. 

When lunch time came and went without a word from Daisy or Penny, I stopped by the store and picked up a few things for Daisy’s apartment. Bath bombs, new pajamas, a few nice notebooks that she’d probably never write in for fear of “ruining” them. I chuckled to myself, I really did love her and all of her little quirks. If it wasn’t for Daisy’s one-year rule I’d pick her up from Penny’s and take her straight to the court house if she’d let me. 

Deployments had never bothered me before, in fact, I loved them. They meant that I could fly on missions, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I kept an eye out for enemy bogeys. Now the thought of being away from home for even a few days made my heart hurt. I wanted to go to work in the morning, fly formations with the team, and come home to Daisy at the end of the day. I wanted to fall into bed beside her and tease her when she spent twenty minutes rearranging the blankets so she wouldn’t be hot. 

The deployment hadn’t even started yet and I already wanted it to be over. I said a quick prayer, praying that this deployment would be a short one.

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Next Chapter

[lostdreamr-blog1]

That's My Goddaughter

Summary: Bradley might have told you he would back off if you started dating Jake, but what happens when he tells Maverick? Second part of Bradshaw’s Date

Word count: 2k

A/N: Here is part 2 of Bradshaw’s date! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as the first!! Thanks for reading!

The look of bewilderment on Jake’s face was something Bradley would never forget. Maverick had been hounding Hangman all day to the point where others were starting to feel bad for him.

The group of them were sitting in one of their debriefs, where Mav was currently picking apart Jake’s near perfect run. Phoenix leaned over to Rooster and asked if he knew what was going on. The smug look on his face told her everything she needed to know. “What did you do, Bradshaw?”

Bradley was enjoying every second of today and would continue to enjoy it for many days to come. “I didn’t do anything. Hangman decided it was a good idea to take my sister out on a date last night.”

Bob choked on his water when he overheard what his teammate had said, drawing attention to the three of them. Hangman turned in his seat to see what was going on, but the second his eyes landed on Rooster, everything clicked. Phoenix leaned back in her seat and shook her head, “You’re in for it now.”

Bradley didn’t care in the slightest how Hangman felt. He was getting everything he thought he deserved. Mav dismissed the group but asked Jake to stay behind. The others walked out sending him looks of encouragement, knowing whatever conversation they were going to have, wasn’t going to go in his favor.

Jake remained in his seat in the front row, waiting for Maverick to explain what was going on. The look on Bradley’s face gave him a small insight to what this was going to be. He had hoped his teammate would leave personal business outside of work, but clearly that was asking for too much. It was karmas way of slapping him in the face.   

“I’m going to come right out with it. Just because Bradley can’t do anything about it, doesn’t mean the same rules apply to me. That’s my Goddaughter and you better treat her a hell of a lot better than you cover your teammates out there. That girl is something special and you best believe I won’t be the only one keeping close tabs on you.”

All Jake could do was nod his head. He didn’t know if he was talking to his captain or Pete Mitchell and any comment he wanted to say wouldn’t go over well.

“For as long as you date her, expect every day to be like this. You will see no special treatment and will continue to be pushed harder than everyone else until I see you are good enough for her. Do I make myself clear?”

Jake let out a slow breath, “Yes, sir.”

Maverick dismissed him, but called out when he was near the door of the room.

“Oh, and Lieutenant, Admiral Kazansky sends his best.”

Just as Jake thought it couldn’t get worse, his body seemed to freeze at those last words. He had always wanted admirals to know his name, strived for it, but not like this. This was an abuse of power and there was nothing he could do about it but swallow his pride.

Jake was fuming as he made his way back into the locker room. While most of his teammates figured it was because of how Maverick made him look today, it was actually for a whole different reason.

The moment he walked through the door, all conversations stopped. Word had gotten around of what happened and opinions were formed because of it. But no one was dumb enough to say those opinions out loud to either guy.  

Jake looked around the room until he spotted the one guy that was slowly pushing him over the edge. The cocky smirk was normally seen on the blonde pilot, but in this case, the roles were reversed, and Bradley was racking in every ounce of discomfort that was coming from him.

It didn’t take a genius to know Jake was furious. His usual slicked back hair was sticking up in a few places where he had run his hand through it. His cheeks have a slight pink tint to them that for once wasn’t because of the California heat. But what really stood out, was the silence. Jake was always quick to run his mouth and had a comeback for everything. So, when the pilot stood there and stared at Bradley, the others knew things were about to get ugly.

“Do you get off on the fact that you’re messing with your sister’s life?” Bradley’s smirk quickly fell when he heard the question directed at him.

“Excuse me?” Jake took a few steps towards him, making Coyote and Bob shift towards them in case they needed to break anything up.

“Because your sister told you to back off, you went and ran to Maverick about it, knowing he would be pissed. Well congratulations pal, Maverick is going to keep pushing me until I walk away. But for once did you ever think how your sister would feel if she found out what was going on?”

Bradley stood up now, fists clenched as he tried to keep his anger in check. “Are you threatening me?”

Jake let out an unamused laugh, “And here I thought I was the most self-absorbed person in the room. This isn’t about you. Hell, this isn’t even about me. Your sister told me last night that it was one of the first times where she felt happy and could let go of the past for a few hours. Being back here hasn’t only affected you, she lost her dad too. Her mom lost her husband in the same damn house ya’ll are staying in. While you went off into the Navy, she was the one who stayed back and took care of her.

“Did she ever tell you the number of stories your mom shared with her about your dad? About Top Gun and how much he loved flying with Maverick? Those memories have stayed with her to this day, making the move out here so damn hard for her. But now you have some personal vendetta to make sure my life is nothing but hell. Did you stop and think about how she would feel if I walked away because I didn’t want to deal with all this bullshit?”

Jake’s face was now red with rage, whole body tensed. He kept trying to put himself in Bradley’s shoes, but he couldn’t see himself doing this to one of his sisters. Not when the price was this high.

Bradley on the other hand had lost most of his color. He had zero idea his sister was unhappy following him out here and had only wanted to look out for her. He knew how ruthless Hangman was in the skies, but he didn’t think to separate that from his personal life. Yeah, the speech he gave that night had him second guessing a few things, but Jake was known to be a smooth talker. How was he supposed to know if he was telling the truth?  

“And I hate to tell you this but I’m not giving up that easily. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than Maverick telling me how to be better or Admiral Kazansky making his position known. Your sister is worth putting up with all of this and more. So do us all a favor and get over yourself.”

Jake grabbed his stuff out of his locker and slammed the door, not sparing anyone a second glance. The room was silent. Nothing could’ve prepared any of them for what just happened. Natasha glanced over at Bradley and saw how defeated he looked. The once gloating man was long gone as he processed everything that was said. 

Bob went over to him and gave his shoulder a quick pat. A small show of support but he then proceeded to walk out of the room. Everyone slowly followed, not sure what else to do. Jake Seresin was always the villain of the story. No one ever questioned that. But today, roles were reversed, and the once golden boy of Bradley Bradshaw had now been painted as the new antagonist.

His phone started to vibrate, and he looked down to see that you were calling. After a few breaths to calm himself down, he answered.

“Hey, so I know you weren’t too thrilled about me going on a date with Jake. But I really appreciate you at least letting me leave the driveway last night. I promise he was the perfect gentleman. Even let me talk him into stopping for ice cream on the way home. Something you never let me do. Also, he told me how great of a teammate you are.” He snorted when you said that last part.

“Good try. I know he would never say that.” Your laugh on the other line confirmed that.

“It was worth a try. Anyway, I made dinner if you want it. I thought maybe we could stay in and watch a movie tonight. My way of saying thank you for not being psycho about all this.” Bradley shook his head knowing he was in fact acting like that.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I have to talk to Mav really quick and then I’ll be on my way home.” He had grabbed his stuff and slowly made his way out of the locker room to Maverick’s office.

“Oh, tell him I said hi and that he owes me dinner. I convinced Penny to give him a second chance. Tell him not to mess this one up. I can only work so many miracles.” Bradley smiled as he sat across from Mav.

“I’ll let him know. See you in a few.” He hung up and sighed. Mav was sitting at his desk with a knowing smile on his face, making Bradley feel even worse about the situation.

“A few things. First, I’m going to need you to lay off on Hangman. I appreciate you making him sweat a bit, but Y/N seems to really like him, and I don’t want to ruin that.” Maverick nodded his head and sat back in his chair.

“Are you sure? Ice and I had a whole good cop bad cop thing planned out. He was going to be the bad cop because he just has this stare that seems to pierce your soul. Used to give me nightmares back in the day.”

Bradley couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, Mav. Thanks though. Also, she said you owe her dinner. Convinced Penny to give you a chance or something.” He watched Mav’s whole face light up.

“I owe that kid a whole lot more than dinner.” He watched as Bradley stood up and make his way to the door.

“I know you may not like this, but she has to grow up some time. I’d rather it be here where we can help her if she falls than halfway across the country. Seresin has his work cut out for him, but I think he’s a good choice for her. Cut yourself some slack though. She’s a lot like your mom in the sense that no one is going to stop her from doing what she wants.”

Bradley offered him a small smile and walked out. Maverick waited a few minutes to make sure he was gone and pulled out his phone to text Ice.

“The kid said to lay off, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”  

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I love to hear back from you all! I have tagged some of you who wanted a part 2. Let me know of you want to stay on the tag list for the future :)

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Fix it.

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x reader

Summary: Hangman offers to help Bob with a crush he has on the Hard Decks barmaid. 

Warnings: Swearing, degradation of women, use of the term slut, mentions of sex, degradation during sex, mild mention of wanting to crash a plane, misogyny, inaccuracies about women and daddy issues, throwing a drink in someone's face, the term bumping uglies is used and I feel like that should be a warning.  

Word Count: 4003

Author's note: So, this is the first time I have ever written for Top Gun, I know nothing about the military, so please forgive me. But, here it is, and I hope you all like it. Also, I obviously do not believe the nonsense about women and daddy issues or any of the other degrading things said about women, It is all to further the story. Please remember to be kind. And remember, do not tolerate, let alone fall for, anyone who degrades you! 

____

“So, tell me little Bobby Boy”, the chair squeaked across the linoleum floor as Hangman turned it around, taking a seat across from Phoenix and Bob, who were clearly engaged in a private conversation, “were my eyes deceiving me or were you blushing when you were talking to Penny’s new pretty little barmaid?” Neither the scowl on Phoenix’s face nor the blush on Bob’s could be prevented, and these both deepened the smirk on Hangmans. 

“What’s it to you Bagman?” There were very specific moments Bob was thankful for Phoenix, and intercepting hangman when they all knew he was about to get too much was one of them. The ever deepening crush on ‘Penny's new pretty little barmaid’ was something Bob was hoping to just, kind of, get through. He was well aware that this was something that was never going to happen and he needed it to blow over, now. 

So Phoenix sitting here quietly trying to encourage him to ask for your number was not helping squash any and all hope he had that he MIGHT get the courage to ask, but now he also had Bagman asking questions on top of it? What happened to the days where no one noticed him?

“Well, you see, I myself had my eyes on her, but the second I saw Baby On Board over here looking redder than Rooster after a game of DogFight, I knew I had to do my good deed of the week and help my man out over here.” Phoenix felt her annoyance rise the longer she stared at that godforsaken toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Bobby didn’t need help, not from Hangman at least. 

“I’ve got it, but thanks Bagman” Phoenix twisted in her chair, fully facing Bob’s side profile now, the man in question focusing on a spot on the table in front of him, hoping they’d forget he was even there at this point while he tried to get his own blushing under control. 

“Ah! So he does have a crush on her!” Hangman's voice carried across the room causing the other Daggers to start paying more attention to what was happening in the once seemingly quiet corner of the room. 

“Who has a crush on who now?” Rooster made his way over, mimicking Hangman as he took the chair next to him and spun it round, heaving himself into it as he waited for an explanation. Coyote, Fanboy and Payback all sauntered after him, the entire table now surrounded, Bob’s head dropping even lower, eyes scrunched shut, refusing to push his glasses further up his nose from where they had begun slipping down in fear of moving and drawing attention to himself. 

“Bob has a crush on the new barmaid” Hangmans gaze hadn’t left Phoenix’s glaring eyes and that shit eating grin had yet to leave his face. 

“Oh shit! No wonder he was so willing to get the drinks Friday night then.” a large hand came down on the table in front of them, the loud noise causing Bob to jump, a bewildered (and very red looking face) turning to Phoenix, a silent plea to get them out of this situation. 

“Well, yes, but we don’t need-” Phoenix tried, she really did, but when these men got in on information like this, it was hard to get them out of it again. 

“So, when are you making your move?” Fanboys' question was innocent enough, but considering he was one of the few pilots that knew Bob a little better than the rest, just after Phoenix, it was a fairly dumb question and the alarmed look on Bob's face was indication enough of that. 

And if the look on Bob’s face wasn’t enough, the look of exasperation on Phoenix’s was. 

“We were working on getting Bob to that point before Hangman over here,” an accusatory finger was thrown in the offender's direction, “interrupted me”. 

“And here I was to extend a helping hand. It’s kind of seeming like you aren’t all that appreciative of that help here Bobby Boy” the entire table, other than Phoenix (again, thank you Phoenix), was now staring directly at Bob. 

“That’s a little rude of you Bob” Cyotes voice could be heard behind him. 

Roosters popping up next, “Yeah Bob, the man’s just trying to help.” 

“Since when are you siding with Bagman of all people!” Phoenix couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had all of these men, who seemingly couldn't stand Hangman, suddenly be siding with him. 

“Since he knows how to work women. The least Bob could do would be to hear him out.” Payback tried to offer a voice of reason, knowing that when it came to Phoenix and Hangman though, it was probably falling on deaf ears. 

“Work women! Are you hearing yourself?” She needed to get Bob out of here quickly. 

“Listen, he has a point. Just, the goal is to get Bob and this girl together-” Rooster began before Phoenix interrupted him. 

“No, the goal is to get him to have courage to ask for her number.” 

“You’re thinking too small. Bobby’s a good looking guy, we can get him laid.” Bobs head shot up, wide eyes meeting Hangman’s own, more relaxed face, which was now looking directly at him, “So, what do you say? Want big ol’ Hangman's help to get you laid?” 

“I don’t, it’s not really like that.” Bob muttered out weakly. I mean, yes, the thought of potentially bedding you was definitely something he didn’t want to discount, but it was more than that. 

He wanted to date you. He wanted to ask for your number and talk to you for two weeks to a month over the phone and at the Hard Deck and then he wanted to ask you on a real date. And then he wanted to go on more dates and he wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend and then well, if in any of that you thought he deserved it, yeah, he wanted to bed you. If he ever got the courage to do any of that, but that’s what he wanted. That was the game plan. 

“Of course it’s like that. Do you or do you not want to bump uglies?” The round of ew’s did nothing to deter Hangman from the question. 

“I, well, of course I want to bed her.” Bob couldn't help but beg for the ground beneath him to open up and so he could just fall into it, but Bob also knew that he rarely got so lucky. 

“Bed her?” 

“He means ‘fuck’ Bagman” 

“Ah, thank you Rooster. But also, bed her? Seriously? Even bump uglies sounds better than that.” Hangman knew he was just getting a rise out of Bob at this point, the kick beneath the table directly into his shin from Phoenix a sharp warning to drop it, “Regardless, you’ve got our help there friend. Don’t you worry, I’ll have her eating out of your hand by the end of the night, that is a guaranteed promise.”

“Bob, listen, this is a bad idea. This is Hangman for gods sake, do you honestly think this is going to go well?” Phoenix was trying her best to dissuade him from agreeing to Hangmans help. 

Bob swung his gaze between the two pilots, completely unsure of what to do. On one hand, Hangman did kind of know what he was doing when it came to women. He was frequently leaving the Hard Deck with them to get up to what Bob can only assume was some pretty disgusting activities, but on the other hand, Phoenix was completely right, this was Hangman they were talking about, one of the most cocky and degrading men any of them had ever known. 

But he needed to make a call, and desperate times call for desperate measures, and Lord knows Bob was desperate for you to notice him.  

“What do I need to do?” It was almost a whisper directed at Hangman followed by a groan from Phoenix and a round of cheers from the others. 

“Bobby, you will not regret this, I promise you, and honestly, I’m willing to start your lessons on women right here, right now.” He swung towards Phoenix, his smile so wide Phoenix had to do everything physically possible not to wipe it off with her fist. 

“The most important thing you need to remember when it comes to women,” Hangman was now looking back at Bob, who was leaning forward, attentive as always, praying this would be the lifeline he needed when it came to you, “they love what they think they can’t have and they LOVE it when you call them a slut.” The sound of Hangman and Coyotes hands meeting in a high-five was heard, shortly followed by a chair being shoved away from the desk they were currently sitting at as Phoenix rose to her feet. 

“Jesus, Bob, don’t you dare come crawling to me when this goes balls up.” With one final scowl directed at hangman she was leaving the group of men, a last middle finger thrown up as a “Bye Phoenix” was shouted after her from the cockiest pilot known to man, deciding to leave whatever this mess was alone for good. 

_____

“So you decided to come anyway?” Rooster asked as Phoenix settled next to him, watching the pool game happening between Fanboy and Payback, both pilots taking a sip of their individual beers.

“Came to see the shit show.” Her eyes landed on Bob and Hangman in the corner. The latter vividly talking as if he was instructing a boxer in the corner of the ring before their next round. 

“I know you have your doubts, but Hangman can actually be a good man. He isn’t trying to hurt Bob, he’s just trying to help as best as he knows how.” Rooster just shrugged as Phoenix let out a sigh, both knowing what he had just said was completely true. 

“I know, but God, saying women like to be called a slut?” she threw Rooster a disapproving look, concerned at the smile on her friends face. 

“He explained it to Bob after you left. He meant it purely from a sex perspective. Like, you know when you’re going at it and you say ‘such a good little slut, just for me’ kind of vibe? None of us actually think women are sluts, especially not the ones willing to sleep with us. Honestly, we’re all just really thankful they are willing to even sleep with us.” Rooster tried to placate Phoenix. 

“Even Hangman?” She wasn’t going to stop until he had been knocked down a peg or two. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, but especially Bagman. He speaks like that to get a rise out of you, but honestly, he’s actually terrifyingly respectful. I'm pretty sure he even hates calling women anything degrading in bed. I think he’d prefer to be called something gross and degrading now that I think about it.” Rooster could only shrug at the alarmed look Phoenix had given him at the new i information he had casually dropped on her, “You know that bullshit that women with daddy issues like to be degraded? Well, I never met anyone with bigger daddy issues than Bagman over there, and that’s coming from me.” A knowing look following the statement.

Phoenix couldn't find a surface to place her beer fast enough before she was letting out a full belly laugh at what Rooster had just told her, her drink spilling all over her hand as she tried to picture Hangman of all people begging a woman to call him her pretty little slut. She hated that Rooster made sense, but yeah, it fit. Suddenly she felt like she understood Hangman just that much better. 

Suddenly Coyote was rushing into the little section the dagger squad had carved out for themselves, “Shut up! She’s coming! Act natural!”

“We can shut up or we can act natural, you gotta choose here bud” Hangman was the first to address the confusion caused by their friend, “Bob, it’s your time to shine, here she comes”, a final clap on the back and Hangman was making his way over to Rooster and Phoenix to watch how well his own little protege did trying to pick up you up. 

As Bob watched you walk over with their drinks all neatly lined up on a tray, he tried to calm himself down, replaying all the lessons Hangman had taught him in his mind, reminding himself he could actually do this. 

This was all just to get your attention. 

You just needed to know he existed. 

Women like what they can't have. 

Women liked being called a slut. 

Yes, that was it. That's what Hangman had said. 

Why was he so sweaty? 

Women like what they can't have. 

Women liked being called a slut. 

“You look like a slut.” 

A silence descended over the entire area. All eyes, wide, now focusing on Bob. Music was the only thing that could be heard between any of them. No one is willing to move out of fear alone. 

Although to him, all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears, nerves fully taking over. But he did it and now he was just waiting for you to fall at his feet, at least, that's what Hangman told him would happen. 

Although this, this felt wrong. He had messed up. He knew he had messed up somehow, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough for him to figure it out. 

“Excuse me?” You were the first to speak up after Bob’s faux pas. 

“Oh, I said, you look like a slut.” From there, the entire group watched events unfold in slow motion. 

“No Bob! It’s -” Before Hangman could interject, you’d already thrown a drink over him. Bob covered head to toe in someone's beer, “rhetorical.” 

“Get out Bobby Floyd!” Your look was icy, finger pointed towards the Hard Decks doors. 

“Yes Ma’am.” Bob knew better than to argue with you. He immediately got up, head down, tail between his legs and made his way to the doors, praying he could get out of there as quickly as possible, making promises that he’d never step foot into the Hard Deck again, mentally figuring out how to crash his plane tomorrow.  

Hangman could feel Phoenix seething next to him, against his better judgment he turned to look at her only to find her already staring holes into him, “You have 24 hours to fix it Hangman, before I shoot you out of the sky myself,” and with that she was gone, following Bob outside, but not before she was profusely apologizing to you, promising that this was not Bob.  

_____

Bob isn’t sure how Phoenix had convinced him to come to the Hard Deck tonight, but here he was outside its doors, breathing deeply as he tried to convince himself to step inside. 

And if he happened to see you, well, the written out three page apology was ready. He had no shame in groveling if it got you to forgive him. 

One last deep breath and he made his way in, beelining for the pool table where he knew Phoenix was waiting for him. He couldn’t give a damn about anyone else there, actively making the choice to ignore every single one of them. He knew technically it wasn’t their fault, it was him, he was the one who had messed it up, but this felt right. 

And if he had gotten an extra confidence boost from telling Bagman to fuck off the next day at work in front everyone, well, that was no one else’s business but his. 

The air was awkward, everyone could feel it, everyone was being extra nice to him and despite him being polite, he was still avoiding actually entertaining conversation with anyone else except Phoenix, until “Hey Bob, you need a drink, go get one.” He glared at Hangman, the other pilot only shrugging his shoulders, nudging his head in the direction of the bar. 

“Go, I know you don’t trust him, but trust me, go get your drink.” It was Phoenix, giving him a slight push off his stool. As he made his way to the bar, already getting his apology pages out of his pocket, he noticed the entire dagger squad quietly watching him make his way over. He felt bitter, but he knew that he had to do this. He was ready to beg. 

“Bob,” it was Penny leaning over the bar, lemonade in hand, a smirk firmly plastered on her face as she handed it over to him, “I think you owe this bar a round of drinks considering last week's indiscretion.” 

“Ma’am, a round of drinks for the bar is probably the least I could do considering what I did,” Bob ran a hand over his face as Penny cackled, making her way over to the bell, its humiliating ring sounding throughout the bar, all the patrons giving a loud cheer as the prospect of a free drink from a stranger who had somehow wronged the bar owner. 

“Who fucked up this time Pen?” Your voice sounded out as you made your way back around the bar from the kitchen, clearly not having noticed Bob yet, but when you did, a smile a mile wide graced your face and Bob felt both humiliated and blessed all at once, “Ah, I assume this is penance for his sins of last week?” You and Penny shared a knowing look, and Bob wished he was in on the joke instead of the butt of it. 

“And he will be paying for it.” Penny let out one more laugh as she slapped the top of her bar and gave a quick look around at how full her bar was this evening, knowing this was going to take a hefty chunk out of Bob's money, throwing Bob a wink as she left you two to talk. 

“I’m sorry.” Bob wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He had felt awful all week and he needed to make amends and find out how he could fix this as soon as he could. 

“Why on earth would you get Hangman to help you get  a girl's number?” Bob froze, you knew. You knew he had needed someone else's help to try and flirt with you. He might not have crashed his plane last week, but tomorrow, it was definitely happening tomorrow. 

“I will regret doing that until the day I die.” Bob groaned out as you watched him squirm in front of you, a laugh leaving you once again at his misery, “He is possibly the worst person I have ever met in my entire life.” 

“Hey, he’s not that bad, considering the groveling he did this week and all.” You shrugged as you continued to wipe down the bar in front of you. 

“What groveling?” Bob hadn’t heard anything about Hangman groveling, but when he threw a look towards his fellow aviators, the shy smile on all their faces, Hangmans in particular, showed that maybe they had been in his corner all along, even if he had messed up as badly as he did. 

“Well, after you told me I looked like a slut,” Bob felt the humiliation flood him again, “Hangman profusely apologized and the lot of them had explained that you may have a crush on me and were just super nervous to ask for my number, so he had offered to coach you and that you may have gotten just a little nervous and duffed it a little bit.” 

“That may have been exactly what happened.” Bob chanced a look at you, the soft smile you sported gave him hope that maybe you weren’t all that mad with him after Hangman had pulled his weight to remedy the situation, “And I think duffed it a little bit is the understatement of the century.” 

“Oh Bobby Floyd, I was just trying to be polite, but you completely fucked it. Didn’t anyone tell you that you only call a girl a slut while you’re busy rawing her from behind?” If Bob didn’t already look like a loser in front of you, him choking on his spit and face going even redder than it already was at the thought of ‘rawing you’ did not do him any favors. 

“Ma’am, I will never call a woman a slut, ever again, under any circumstances, I can promise you that.” Bob had made this promise the second he had said the word to you last week, but this just solidified it to him. 

“Oh, well, that’s a bit of a pity, I was kind of hoping after our third date, you might be willing to while you bed me.” Bob was sure his heart stopped. 

“Date?” It was all he could get out. If he didn’t want to make more of a fool of himself, this was all he was willing to get out. 

“Yeah, the date Hangman offered to pay for, after that first one though, it’s on us.” You were enamored with the look of wonder on his face as you told him you’d be going on a date with him. 

“You’re seriously willing to go on a date with me after everything?” In lieu of an answer, you instead just glanced down to the napkin Bob hadn’t even seen you place in front of him, your name and number scrawled on it, all nice and neat just for him, “I promise it will be the best and most expensive date you ever go on.” The look of absolute shock never leaving his fae=ce as he immediately pocketed your number, not willing to jinx anything more. 

“Oh I bank on it being the most expensive date we ever go on, I mean, it’s the least we can do to thank Hangman for his lesson.” With that you swung your cloth over your shoulder, “I look forward to your call Bobby Floyd.” and with one last wink you were making your way to the other side of the bar to help Penny with the ever increasing amount of patrons swamping the bar for a free drink. 

As Bob stood there with possibly the biggest smile on his face, he felt a nudge to his shoulder, seeing his Captain with a small smile of his own, “Mav”, he greeted with a nod of his head, receiving one in return, embarrassed that his superior had to hear all that. 

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop Bob, but did she just use the term ‘bed you’ when telling you she hoped you’d call her a slut while you sleep with her?” Mav didn’t really care what term she used, in truth, he was just sure Bob hadn’t even really registered she’d said it at all, and honestly, he was rooting for Bob, he wanted him to know that he hadn’t completely fumbled the bag when it came to you. 

“Bed me?” Bob hadn’t even fully registered what Mav had said before he heard Rooster behind him. 

“He means ‘fuck’ Bob” 

And for the second time, Rooster had to watch Bob end up with a drink all over him at the Hard Deck, this time though it was infinitely funnier as he watched Bob spill his own lemonade all over himself in shock. 

“Did she see that?” Bob’s eyes were closed, refusing to look at you. 

“She definitely saw that” Rooster couldn’t lie, flashing a smile to you as he turned Bob away, “Go, run,” shoving Bob back in the direction of their friends, but Bob couldn’t even find himself to be embarrassed this time as he pulled your number out the closer he got, waving it like a flag as all his friends cheered him on, dripping, covered in lemonade and with your number clutched in his hand. 

[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (4/5)

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

                “It says two to six people. You could have brought Phoenix and Javy as well,” Jake says, looking at the description for the room and turning to look at Bob.

                “Why would I want to bring them?”

                Jake exchanges a look with Rooster, because they know that Bob has slept with both Javy and Nat, but if the man wants to keep that on the downlow then Jake will respect that. Except the Dagger Squad are quickly becoming a squad where it’s impossible to keep secrets.

                “Just stating it as fact. Mean nothing by it. You guys just seem pretty tight these days. I approve,” Jake states, slapping Bob on the back and stepping past him to pay his entry fee, letting his hip rest against Rooster’s as they exchange an eyeroll, because it was pretty foolish of them to think that maybe Bob would be the weakest link in whatever Trace, Javy and Bob have going on.

                It’s a horror themed escape room, apparently their tour bus has broken down, they’ve sought refuge at a nearby house and are now trapped in this house by the local serial killer who will be coming back to kill them in an hour unless they escape. Delightful. They enter the room and it’s dark, bookcase, chair, desk, a fake plant… He’s never done an escape room before but Bob had assured him he’d like it. Which in hindsight maybe wasn’t a thing to take on trust. He’s aware they’re trying to force him into situations with Rooster, they’re not subtle. But he also doesn’t think they’re completely innocent either and he’s starting to think that maybe they’re right and Rooster might be more into him than he thought.

                “I’m just going to go and use the bathroom and make a quick call.”

                Jake doesn’t even try and hide the eyeroll this time, goes to exchange another look with Rooster, who has one of the books in his hand and is running it over the side of the bookcase, and then a drawer on the desk pops open.

                “What the fuck?”

                “Magnets and wires. First time?” Rooster asks, smirking and god, Jake wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to shove him. Instead he pulls the drawer out and empties the contents onto the desk, holds up a key which is clearly for the door leading further in, rather than the door the entered through, and which Bob left by. Fine. He doesn’t mind spending time with Rooster at all. He puts the key in and turns it, hears something click behind him and then there’s the sound of several somethings falling to the floor. Rooster is screaming and he turns to find him standing there looking pale, surrounded by fake, covered-in-blood, severed body parts.

…            …            …

                Bradley is pretty sure he’s going to draw blood with how hard his nails are digging into his palms.

                “You don’t like a little horror there Rooster?”

                “No I fucking don’t. Get enough scary shit happening to me at work. Why couldn’t we be rescuing a kitten or something?”

                “Because Bob chose this. And don’t worry. You’re okay. I’ll save you. I’ve had practice remember?”

                “God you’re an ass.”

                “Maybe, but you’re not scared anymore are you?”

                “I wasn’t scared!”

                “Not anymore…” Jake insists.

                The kiss Jake gives him is brief, just a dry press of lips and it’s over so quickly he thinks he might have imagined it, except Hangman is squeezing his waist and then letting go and he immediately misses the warmth, wants to press back into it. He’s starting to think that maybe it was Hangman that gave him the socks. It seems like his way of flirting, little bit silly, but also something he can completely deny if he gets asked and he thinks he isn’t going to get the answer he wants. Bradley wants to give him the answer he wants.

                “Thanks for the socks,” Bradley says, and he can’t really tell if Hangman is blushing or not in the poor lighting of the room, but Jake hip checks him and reaches for the door that has opened after the fake body parts had tumbled to the floor.

                “You’re welcome. Now come on Bradshaw, I want to get on the leaderboard for this room and then take you out where we can do more of that.”

                “Yeah. Okay. And if we don’t make the leaderboard?” Bradley asks, because he’s hopefully about this answer too.

                “I’ll take you out anyway.”

                “Deal.”

…            …            …

                Natasha pushes the chair out with her foot and gives Bob a smile as he grins and settles into the seat; Javy slides his hot chocolate across and she takes a sip of her own drink that Javy bought for her. She doesn’t miss the fact that Javy stretches his legs out so his ankle rests against Bob’s, all while his arm rests on the back of her chair. Hmm. Maybe Bradley was onto something.

                “I’m a genius. They’re both super competitive. An escape room forces them to work together and communicate, and it’s an enclosed space.”

                “So you’re saying we’ve forced them together in a small space in which they’ll likely rile each other up. kill each other and that it already looks like a murder scene?”

                “Uh…”

                “Pretty sure any bodily fluids coming out won’t be blood…” Javy says dryly and Natasha pulls a face.

                “I don’t want to think about them…” she says, and she looks between Javy and Bob contemplatively. “However I did have some thoughts.”

PART FIVE

[questintheskies]

1. CM Punk says people in AEW felt “betrayed” when he visited WWE Raw backstage in May 2023.

2. CM Punk confirms that no one came to pick him up at the airport for AEW All In, didn’t cry about it, calls it irresponsible.

3. CM Punk says he told Tony Khan that “this place [AEW] is a fucking joke, you're a clown”. Then he quit AEW.

4. “I don't like the drama but the truth is the truth. He's not a boss, he's a nice guy. That's a detriment to the company [AEW] but it's not my company." — CM Punk when asked about Tony Khan

5. CM Punk talking about AEW: Says it’s not a real or sustainable business, not about selling tickets, not about drawing money. Having good matches maybe which there’s nothing wrong with. Will always exist as long as Tony Khan keeps pumping money into it.

6. “If you're more than happy with some goof saying you had a 5 star match & the building is a quarter full…then we're not in the same business." — CM Punk

7. CM Punk was a consultant to Tony Khan in AEW, working with 2 contracts. One was a talent contract, the other was the consultant contract.

8. CM Punk believed AEW was an alternative to what WWE was. But 90% of the problems he had or identified about AEW were the very things that made AEW different…

He's happy that AEW exists because it allows wrestlers to make more money, but then also says "guaranteed money kind of ruined pro wrestling. If you had to get paid off the house, things would be a lot different"

9. CM Punk on the infamous Hangman Page promo before DoN.

Says Hangman went off the script, and that he wanted to double leg him and “murder” him on live TV if it wasn't for his professionalism. Says he went to TK and the lawyers to get the situation fixed.

10. CM Punk says nobody in AEW talked to him for 6 months after Brawl Out, he had to sort his tricep surgery by himself. He says the difference between getting injured in both companies is “night and day”

11. “I don’t regret my time there (AEW). Im just brutally honest about some things — And it’s done.

I hope they’re happy, I known I am. I would like to leave it at that. I understand fans and the tribalism, I’m a Blackhawks, I’m a Chicago Cubs fan, so I will always troll and needle White Sox fans, or Blues fans, or Predator’s you know?

But some of the shit was so outlandish, talking about my Dog and all this awful stuff”

12. CM Punk says before joining AEW, he was close to re-joining WWE, even before being on WWE Backstage.

He said they had a handshake deal in place but then it didn’t happen. He says Nick Khan lead the charge even before Khan joined WWE as he was with CAA.

13. CM Punk says stories of him being violent backstage are overblown and not true. (Earlier he admitted to choking a co-worker backstage and wanting to murder Hangman Adam Page for going off script)

14. CM Punk didn't have a non-compete clause after being fired from AEW.

15. Samoa Joe told him to stop acting up at All In Wembley, so he did. Then he turned to Khan and told him, “This place is fucking joke, man. You’re a clown. I quit.” Joe and Jerry Lynn came to his room and got him to do the PPV opening match. He said he was “too fired up” then and now rehashing it, and will probably regret talking about it, but “that’s what happened.”

16. He says he wrestled the match for Joe, referee Paul Turner, Lynn who was the agent on the match, and the fans. But he knew it was his last time wrestling Joe, and in the company.

17. He hasn’t spoken to Khan since backstage at Wembley when he quit. He didn’t do anything to make him fear for his life, as Khan said when announcing Punk’s firing on Dynamite, but Punk sayd “he is who he is.” He believes there was a “concerted effort to try to slander [him] and try to ruin [his] character.”

18. Spreading “rumors and lies and bullshit” was the genesis of all his issues at AEW. He thinks it might have been jealousy or envy, but doesn’t understand why anyone would try to dim the star of the company’s top guy.

19. Punk says his remarks at the post-All In scrum weren’t planned, but when he saw “reporters” there who are friends with other wrestlers and who wrote things about him without checking with him, it set him off. He does say it’s in his “top three CM Punk promos”, though.

20. There was nothing it the scrum that Khan hadn’t heard before. Punk doesn’t think he can talk about what happened afterwards. Confirms he is referring to Brawl Out, but says he “didn’t have to sign an NDA for anything I did wrong.” He has nothing he wanted to hide, but Khan wanted him to sign an NDA — he doesn’t know why.

21. As to why he did agree to come back, “I have a lot of friends there”, and Khan wasn’t going to let him go. Rather than sit at home, he thought he’d try to “get some guys together and have some fun shows.”

22. Asked if there’s anything he’s proud of from his time in AEW, he says he made a lot of friends and got to a lot of “cool shit” — specifically mentioning getting to work with Sting. “I think the positives outweigh the negatives”.

23. He talks about attending an indie show recently and telling someone that what happens there works at that level, as evidenced by it selling out an arcade bar, “but that shit doesn’t fly on national television — I think that’s being proven right now.”

24. He’s proud of the work he did with MJF, and thinks MJF’s future is bright as he’s immensely talented. He wasn’t great when he catered to the “niche internet audience”.

25. Punk doesn’t think he’ll ever bury the hatchet with Colt Cabana. He says Cabana approached him at some point before the All Out ‘22 incident, but he told him he wouldn’t speak to him without a lawyer present.

[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Eight

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: .Ana is left reeling and coping with her father's diagnosis while the mission draws ever nearer. Will she be able to concentrate on the mission? Or will there be another curve ball throwing her off her path?

Warnings: military inaccuracies, lots of swearing, almost/mentioned physical fight and violence, mentions of dying and being killed, mentions of parental death/parental loss

Wordcount: 3k

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: This is a chapter I'm nervous about posting because you might hate me ^^'. Jake's an ass in this - which in my defense: I'm only using and enhancing what the movie provided us with. He'll also get his redemption & explanation of why he acts like that later on <;3

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

The menacing blare of the alarm rebounded in her ears even long after the actual noise had stopped. Yet the memory of it kept replaying in Ana’s mind over and over. She couldn’t shake it. Accompanying the noise were images of her simulation flight.

Her failure.

Because that’s how it had gone. She’d failed. Majorly. The curves had been too tight and her reactions just seconds too slow. There had been no other way but to swerve and dodge the oncoming – real – mountain she’d careened toward. In doing so she had crossed the mission's margin, climbing right into the SAMs radius.

She was angry at herself, mad she’d screwed it up so badly. Had it been only her attempt, she wouldn’t have minded it so much but she’d pulled Omaha and Halo into it as well. Which was so much worse. 

And while Ana was sure sweet Bob and fierce but equally uplifting Phoenix would have told her that anyone before her had failed their run-through as well, she didn’t want to hear it.

Even worse than the feeling of failure had been Maverick’s look of disappointment. Ana barely managed to look at him. While he hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t told the other aviators too, it felt much more personal. She’d glimpsed it in his eyes, there had been this unmistakable look. Remembering it made her sick to her stomach.

Knowing no one had managed to even reach the end of the course without crashing into a simulated mountainside or crossing into the SAMs range should have been a comfort, had it been true. But it wasn’t and the debrief would only solidify this.

The group of aviators was filing into the classroom to take their seats. Ana slowly trudged along the gaggle of people, nowhere near paying attention. She felt weary with her shoulders hanging low, every other step careened dangerously outward to the side in an almost stumble.

If it had been only the training with its demanding parameters and exhausting conditions, she would have been able to stomach it but there was one more thing: Her father’s condition. 

The news heavily weighed her down. She couldn’t help but worry and it was this incessant worrying that distracted her from the fast-approaching mission. 

Her father seemed to have come to terms with his imminent passing but Ana had a hard time accepting that this would be the end. How was one supposed to be alright knowing their loved one’s time was limited and the end was rapidly approaching?

She could barely handle the thought. The news had thrown her into a deep and dark pit of despair, leaving her lost.

Surprise crossed her face and her head snapped up when a hand connected with the small of her back, gently guiding her forward and past the rows of chairs. Glancing to the side revealed none other than Jake steering her intently toward the first row. She let him lead her, her dragging feet slowly picking up speed to match his. 

At the front row, he nudged her toward the chairs. Patiently Jake waited until she sat down in the aisle seat before he took the one beside her. He didn’t say anything, in fact, he didn’t even look at her anymore. She understood the gesture nevertheless. She was thankful for it.

While he was still Hangman, and he made sure she didn’t forget it during work, something between them had shifted. 

He was the only one that knew. Not even Bradley knew and they were like siblings. She couldn’t tell Rooster and neither could she tell Maverick. They were too involved, too close. They couldn’t be thrown off their paths as well. At least they should be able to concentrate on the mission ahead.

Yet it still was a relief to have someone know. It made it easier to act like everything was alright in front of the others.

—

Maverick didn’t waste any time ripping into Rooster who had just finished his simulation run. Their run distinguished itself from the others in one detail. Even if Maverick was keen on ignoring it. 

Harvard and Yale had accompanied him but nonetheless Maverick singled Bradley out.

“Why are you dead?” He asked Rooster as the young aviator sat up in his chair and looked straight ahead toward their instructor. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ana could see him build himself up, ready to take on everything that Maverick would throw in his face. She hoped they wouldn’t goad each other up again as they had done during the dogfight.

“You are team leader up there. Why are you– why is your team dead?”

It wasn’t Rooster that spoke up but Phoenix. She sat beside Ana on the opposite side of the center aisle. Most of the aviators had been sitting passively in their chairs, waiting for Maverick’s rant to pass and so had she done it. But now, with her fist previously hiding her frown the dark-haired female aviator couldn’t stay still anymore.

“Sir, he’s the only one who made it to target.” 

And this was the one detail that distinguished Rooster from all the other aviators gathered in the room. He had reached the end of their simulation. He had reached their target.

“A minute late,” Maverick noted with a sigh, biting on no less harshly than before, “He gave enemy aircraft time to shoot him down. He is dead.” 

Ana knew why her godfather critiqued him so harshly. The mission was dangerous as it is, risking a confrontation with enemy aircraft was something they couldn’t afford. No matter what had happened between them, Maverick still cared for Rooster. Perhaps even more so because of what happened.

“You don’t know that.”

Rooster couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see that Mavericks' much harsher treatment towards him wasn’t because of any ill feelings from their instructor but because of his incessant need to keep him safe. Bradley would never want it, he would never allow Maverick to protect him – not after what had happened – but that wouldn’t stop their superior from trying to do so either way. 

“You’re not flying fast enough,” Hangman sounded condescending as he butted in, barely glancing at Rooster one row behind Phoenix. 

It was a quick defiant look, one that cemented itself on Rooster’s face as he turned back to Maverick and reiterated,

“We made it to the target.” It was a clear dig, a bone thrown out for the feral dog.

And Maverick took it without hesitancy. He was slowly getting fed up, perhaps it was the intense need to keep Bradley safe that spurred him on. Taking a step toward the aviators, he leaned forward. His stern look centered on Rooster alone.

“And superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on your way out.”

There was no way Rooster would be backing down. Ana realized how quickly this was leading up to another fight between the two. One that was far more personal than the discussion of the flight simulation. There was a heavy insinuation underlining their words. 

“Then it’s a dogfight.” Rooster blew the last straw to crush Maverick’s composure.

“Against fifth-generation fighters!” 

"Yeah. We’d still have a chance.” It surprised Ana how relaxed Rooster’s words were. She knew that behind his laid-back attitude, his insides were bubbling with hurt and anger.

Able to feel the tension having almost reached its peak between the duo the other aviators in the room looked away, uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Phoenix pursing her lips as she looked down to avoid the men’s argument she was pinned between.

“In an F-18,” Maverick’s voice was full of skepticism, and without knowing he had raised his voice. Rooster followed, his voice growing in volume and bite.

“It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.” Ana closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as much as she could. She knew where this was heading and she dreaded all of it.

“Exactly.”

Maverick’s single word rebounded through the room, suddenly cloaked in silence. Everyone held their breaths. 

Now the bomb had been dropped. The damage was done and irreversible.

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

It was a weak attempt of Rooster to have the last word. Maverick’s assertion had him, judging from the distinct waiver of his voice that made Ana’s heart clench. She hurt for both of them, she hurt for them hurting – and they definitely were, as their faces were barely hiding the guilt and hurt. She felt powerless to change the outcome or their stances. From the beginning, there had been nothing she could have done to aid them in conciliating, even if she longed for the ability to do so.

“You really don’t get it.”

Her eyes jumped to the other side. Jake was looking forward neither toward Rooster nor Maverick. He sounded relaxed like the tension in the air didn’t affect him at all.

“Jake,” was her warning for him to not get involved and make it worse. 

“On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here or a man does not come back.” Now he eyed Maverick. Silently Jake took in the guilt-stricken face of their instructor. Did he enjoy it? 

Just like Ana, Jake knew there was more to this than the discussion of technique applied to the mission. It was so much more than that.

To diffuse the moment, or to add more fuel to the already stoked fire, Jake turned towards Phoenix, “No offense intended.” 

Bob, who sat beside Phoenix and consequently peered behind her to glare at the blonde, murmured with an acidity Ana had never heard from the otherwise shy and quiet aviator, “Yet somehow you always manage.” 

Her heartbeat picked up as everything loomed to spin out of control. Jake’s lips quipped upwards as he turned to her, no not to her, to Rooster. 

“Jake.” Once more Ana hoped to stop him, to get him to focus on her instead of adding insult to the situation. And once more her attempt fell on deaf ears.

“Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.” Ana glanced towards Maverick, hoping he would be able to stop the blonde. But her godfather had his eyes cast toward the ground.

“Lieutenant,” with a  weary sigh he looked up. But Jake didn’t listen even to their instructor at that moment. 

“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no livin’ pilot’s ever seen,” now he looked back, directly at Maverick and added, “Not even him.”

Maverick looked at Jake both surprised and caught off guard by the direct hit of the young pilot.

“That’s no time to be thinking about the past.” 

Ana’s blood ran cold. A chill crept over her back as her head snapped towards Hangman at her side. There was a deep etched frown on her face as she eyed him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he? 

“Don’t do this,” Ana pleaded – begged? – for him to stop, her fingers dug into the plush armrests of the chair. 

He wouldn’t listen. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rooster,” Maverick, sensing where this was going to go, tried to pull Rooster’s attention back on him.

“I can’t be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man.” Ana sat up straighter in her chair. A cold feeling of dread washed over her. She knew exactly what Hangman was playing at, what he was about to do – to say. 

“That’s enough–” It was one more fickle attempt by Maverick to stop the inevitable. 

“–or that Maverick was flying when his old man–” before Hangman could finish the sentence Rooster had sprung from his chair and charged across the room. 

Chaos broke out in the room, clamoring and shouts filled the space as everyone raced to go in between the two men. In a matter of seconds, everyone had clumped around the two, multiple hands were pulling Rooster back as he was seething.

“Lieutenant, that's enough. Hey!” Maverick shouted over everyone, as their frantic voices had mixed into an indistinguishable mess. Rooster was hellbent on ripping himself free and physically fighting Hangman. He could be barely stopped.

Ana had never seen the man this crazed and out of his mind. It unsettled her as she practically stood between the two fractions. Sitting before Hangman, closer to the middle aisle, she’d put herself between the two of them upon standing up. Now she had one hand firmly pressed against Hangman’s chest to keep him back and out of reach and one hand stretched out towards Rooster.

“Bradley!” Even her voice couldn’t carry through to him, no matter how alarmed and warning she sounded, he was too blindsided by his rage.

“You son of a bitch!” His enraged shout trumped over them all. While Bradley was out for blood, Hangman on the other hand was calm as one could be. 

He shrugged off the multiple hands on him with a simple, “I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey.” All except for Ana’s hand. She was quicker than him in slapping his hand away and followed the motion up with a hard shove against his sternum. 

“That’s enough,” Maverick demanded, still mostly concentrating on Rooster. Ana kept glaring at Hangman. He didn’t spare her even one glance. She was fuming, silently willing him to finally keep quiet but of course he couldn’t.

“He’s not cut out for this mission.” With that Hangman pulled everyone’s attention back towards him, just as Rooster seemed to have calmed down enough to not jump the blonde any moment.

“And neither are you.” Ana’s cold, shaky words cut through the air. “You are even less cut out for the mission,” she jabbed, taking a step closer to the blonde. Her finger bore square into his chest.

“You have no concept of teamwork. You don’t know how to play nice or work together with someone. How the hell do you think you are anywhere close to being cut out for this mission when you could be the reason all of us wouldn’t make it back.

Leaving your team behind is as bad as being too hesitant.

I’m not going to watch you kill yourself up there because you can’t work with someone else for once.

Nor am I going to watch you be the reason one of us won’t make it back home.”

The words poured out of her one after another, each sentence more stinging, more personal, and more damaging. Hangman’s facade was a strong one but his eyes betrayed him. Too bad that in her own whirling, burning rage Ana couldn’t see. The hurt that flashed through his eyes, the quick breakthrough of Jake was entirely unnoticed by her. Much like the other aviator's reactions all around her.

Barely having said the last words and with her chest still heaving from both the exertion and the adrenaline of the moment, she turned around. There was not one person that didn’t step out of her path as she stormed off, down the middle aisle and right out of the room.

As if nothing happened just now, Hangman acted indifferent as he stepped forward. 

“You know I’m right.” 

His focus shifted only briefly to Maverick before he eyed up Rooster once more. Stepping nose to nose with the brown-haired male Hangman slipped past, waltzing out of the classroom in a much more relaxed way. 

Neither Ana nor Hangman were left when Maverick dismissed the rest of the group.

Ana was on her way storming through the hallway, less angry but still fuming. Her boots thudded against the floor in quick succession. She couldn’t put enough distance between herself and the classroom fast enough. Unbeknownst to her, Hangman was in close pursuit, quickly catching up to her breezing through the halls. 

“Ghost.” His voice was like an electric current shooting through her. A thousand tiny knives nicked her skin, agitating her further. 

“Ana!” She’d never heard him call her by her name before. Now it sounded urgent and too close for her comfort. 

In a matter of seconds, a hand wrapped around her biceps and pulled her back. Her back collided with the wall with a soft thud. Before she could even react, Hangman had caged her in with his arms, looming over her. He was so close that their noses nearly touched.

“Fuck off,” she hissed between bared teeth, glaring at him with as much venom as she could. He wouldn’t budge.

“You are lower than the lowest scum, do you know that? Bringing this up and using it against him! How dare you?”

“I only stated facts.” The calm, stern way in which he spoke with her frustrated her. There was the cold, emotionless mask that was Hangman. He was guarded and entirely closed off. 

“Yeah, right,” Ana scoffed.

“He wasn’t ready and you know it too.”

“Just like everyone else! None of us are ready for this mission and yet Rooster still has the best shot at surviving the flight to the target. And it gives you no reason to bring up their past!”

“It does if–” 

“–Oh cut the crap, Hangman. I don’t want to hear it!” She didn’t want to hear his excuses and even less so his twisted explanations. What could make him think it was okay to say something like that? Done listening to him and even more so done with being in his proximity, Ana shoved him off her. Hangman went pliantly, his feet shuffled backward as she freed herself from the corner he’d created with his body. 

She glared at him furiously once more, her intensity beginning to fray at the edges. Finding herself locked in a staredown with Hangman, the tension felt higher than even before in the room. Scoffing one last time Ana shook her head and ultimately turned around to march off down the corridor.

There was nothing that could turn the situation around at that moment. Nothing could make it better. The best way was to create distance. Between her and him.

Hangman remained standing in the hallway, hands balled into fists and face twisted into an angry sneer. 

“Damnit,” he roared, punching the wall beside him. His muscles were tense as he ground his teeth together. 

“It does count if it is what holds them back and distracts them from the mission.”

[aemondslefteyeball]

Let's Have a Satanic Orgy!

[Visenya Targaryen x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Degradation, spit, slapping, spanking, lots of sacrilege, general blanket warning for lots and lots of sacrilege, choking, implied gore]

[Summary: A heteronormative, Gods-fearing Westerosi family navigates life in a world rife with temptation and sin!]

(Tbh I think this is the most fun thing I've written so far this might turn into a series idk. Title comes from this song, please support the band they’re both super cool)

Word Count: 2.9K

Maegor & the Meaning of Friendship

Raising children is hard. Raising your lover’s child is harder, especially when he’s an unholy, incestuous abomination borne of a lesbian’s blood magic. And that leads to predicaments such as the one you found yourself in right now. Little Maegor was napping happy as a lamb while he levitated two feet above his crib. You had just got him back down. Sighing before tiptoeing your way around the defense glyphs on the floor, you reached your hands under the sleeping child as gently as you could before lowering him to the bed. That was the exact moment violet eyes snapped open and demonic wails rang through one of the few completed towers. Sighing, you shushed him as you bounced Maegor on one hip, grabbing his favorite ceremonial toy dagger. When the toy did little to appease him, you cleared your throat. 

“Hush little darling,

Dream of pain.

Screaming, brimstone, blood in rain.

But if those Riverlands don’t burn, 

Momma’s gonna turn them into an urn.” 

The child smiled as his head lolled back onto your shoulder. He dropped the dagger, but you bid a shadow to catch it before the clatter woke him again. He was growing by the day, and it was apparently starting to become an issue for his wet nurses. You regenerated two pairs of nipples this week alone. And that was nothing compared to the first time Maegor discovered what teeth could do and you spent a week trying to revive his Septa until giving up and binding her soul to a child’s doll that now sat untouched in the corner of his room. Sighing, you made a mental note to go through which bound souls he did and didn’t play with so you could release the ones he ignored. As you tiptoed back over the sigils in the floor, you grabbed a pouch of hangman’s ash from the interior of your dress and sprinkled it over the line you had broken upon entering the room. Closing the door after you, you crept along the shadows through the keep until arriving at the yard. Empty. She’s running herself too thin. Visenya hadn’t been arriving at your shared chambers until after the hour of the owl most nights. But you didn’t mind, the night had always been to your liking, and nights with her were nothing short of perfect. Lateness be damned. When her last haunt turned up empty, you frowned. The only other finished parts of the castle were the kitchens and the Sept. It was decidedly…unlike her to be there but worst case scenario she wouldn’t be there and you could just make another Septon piss himself. To your surprise, Visenya stood before the altar and took in the effigies of six gods. “I’ve always found it strange that they never worship the only God of theirs that’s actually real.” 

Visenya turned around at the purr of your voice, a dark chuckle escaping her lips. “And yet the farce drones on. But appearances must be maintained.” Gliding to meet her at the altar, you smiled when your love pulled you in for a kiss. With a flick of your hand, the heavy wooden doors slammed shut, and you bit into Visenya’s lip hard enough to draw blood. She moaned when your tongue probed at the cut, and you pulled away for a brief second. 

“Do you know what our son has been up to?” Your arms came to rest on the blonde’s broad shoulders, pressing the curve of your chest into her. 

Visenya grunted as she pivoted so the back of your thighs was flush with the altar. “There are other things on my mind.” A wicked grin split your lover’s face as her rough hands dropped to your thighs, pulling your weight out from under you as she pushed you back onto the altar. 

You let out a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her as you stumbled back. “Like maintaining appearances?” 

A dark look flashed across Visenya’s face, and she tenderly lifted your arms from her shoulders. She took care to press gentle kisses along your wrists, locking eye contact with you before she pulled her belt off and bound your wrists with it. A single finger tilted your chin up, a predatory look on the Queen’s face. “Appearances will be kept, in public.” Her thumb stroked softly at your jaw as your gaze came back to focus on the dribble of blood from Visenya’s lower lip. “But since there isn’t an audience here,” She almost sounded disappointed, even if her better instincts told her otherwise. “You are going to be a good girl and help me defile this.” The words were spoken in a soft coo, with a razor’s edge beneath it. Visenya placed a kiss on the tip of your nose before she shoved you onto your back. “Hands above your head. Don’t move them.” She didn’t wait for you to adjust yourself, her hands rising to the neckline of your dress and promptly tearing the lace. 

“Hey!” You let out an indignant huff.

“Shut up.” When you opened your mouth to retort, she brought a hand down to slap at your exposed breast, the peak stiffening. “If you complain again, you’ll be returning to our chambers naked.” Your lover's hand wandered over your torso, and you arched your back into her touch. A smug look pulled across Visenya’s features as she rolled your nipple between her fingers, her mouth pulling the other in. A bolt of heat jolted to your core as her tongue stroked your nipple, clenching around nothing as you let a breathy moan escape you. Teeth pulled gently at the peak, as her fingers pinched at the other. Her moan vibrated against your flesh, lavishing your breast before slapping the other once more. Satisfied, she released your nipple with a wet pop and flicked her feral gaze up to you. Methodically, her hand rose until two fingers rested against your bottom lip. Opening your mouth, you flicked your tongue across her fingers, wetting the digits thoroughly before pressing a kiss on her fingertips. Visenya’s fingers dug into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, while she brought the other to brush against your lower lips. Light as a feather, her touch never lingered against your skin for longer than a few moments. You clenched your jaw shut, knowing that she would only prolong the teasing if you complained about it. Fingertips grazed closer and closer to your center, and when you started bucking your hips to try and meet them, her other hand pressed your hips down flat into the altar. 

You finally shot her a pleading look, stilling your movements. “Please, my Queen.” 

A wild grin pulled across Visenya’s features, her fingertips circling your bud as you moaned. “All you had to do was ask.” She cooed again, her tone condescending. By now you should be used to begging her for what you wanted, but it wasn’t something that came naturally. Your abdominal muscles tensed as she continued the lazy pace on your bud. Hooded eyes opened to meet her fiery gaze, and her left hand traversed up your torso, coming to rest under your jaw. “Open.” When your lips parted you were rewarded with the pace on your bud quickening, a soft whine escaping you before Visenya spat into your mouth. Pushing your mouth closed and watching you swallow, her thumb tenderly brushed against your lip for a moment before her expression stilled. Her hand was pulled away from your face, and you mourned the loss of contact before the sting bloomed across your cheek. Visenya waited for you to look back at her before her hand cracked across your face again. “Never talk back to me.” She cooed, lowering her fingers to prod at your entrance, but refusing to give you what you need. “I thought by now you would know your place.” She continued as the hand that struck you came to rest on your throat. “And what is that, precisely?” Before you could answer, her fingers squeezed against the sides of your throat. Visenya chuckled darkly as you clenched uselessly around her digits. 

“Your whore.” The wheeze was barely audible, and your lover squeezed your throat harder. 

Visenya knit her eyebrows together in false concern. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that.” She murmured. You tried again, but the words were muffled once more. Heat shot to your core as you writhed uselessly against the queen, tears pricking at your eyes. “Nope, still nothing, I’m afraid.” She said with a mocking sigh, finally releasing her grip. 

“Your whore.” You gasped out with the first breath you could suck in, a pleased smile tugging at Visenya’s sculpted face. Two fingers pushed into you suddenly, and you moaned at the fullness. Visenya didn’t give you a chance to adjust, her pace punishing as she curved her fingers into the rough spot that made your vision go blurry. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you strained against the leather binding your hands. Heat was building in your lower abdomen, your muscles being pulled ever tenser at her continued ministrations. “May I cum?” Visenya quickened her pace, and your hips rolled to meet her actions. Bringing her thumb up to stroke your bud, tension built ever higher in your gut.

“No.” The reply came lovingly whispered, and you knit your eyebrows together, closing your eyes. 

“Please.” You begged, opening your eyes once more to lock with hers as you desperately tried to hold in the wave of pleasure that was about to break within you. 

Visenya looked annoyed, and pulled her fingers out of you at once, slapping your core before shooting you a hard glare. She wrenched you to your feet before promptly bending you over the altar and tearing the remains of your dress off your body. Her fingers laced into your hair and she pulled back until you were looking at her. “Five.” She said simply, untangling her fingers from your hair and pushing your hips into the marble before her hand cracked against your exposed ass. A second later a second one came to the other cheek. 

“One.” You moaned out, slick leaking out onto the altar as your lover gently rubbed the reddened flesh. 

Visenya’s hand cracked out against your skin two more times. “Two.” 

The blonde tutted approvingly behind you, the hand on your hip rubbing gentle circles as she rained the next few blows onto you. Visenya breathed raggedly, while you savored the feeling of her hot skin against yours. When the last blow fell, you took a second to catch your breath. “Five.” Pressing into her touch, you let the silence hang between you two for a second longer. “Thank you, my Queen.” 

Visenya pulled back, taking a step back from the altar. Her deft hands moved to undo the laces of her breeches. “Is a little gratitude so difficult?” She mused, her pants dropping before she carefully stepped out of them. “On your knees.” You dropped immediately, holding your hands up so that Visenya could undo the belt. Afterward, your hands raised to your lover’s smallclothes and you waited for an approving nod before pulling them down. Visenya stepped out of them and promptly hooked her thigh over your shoulder. Pressing a soft kiss to her bundle, you relished the way her fingers tightened in your hair. Your tongue darted out to taste her, and she let out a low moan. Swirling your tongue around her bud, you dropped your face so that your nose ground into her clit while your tongue pressed into her entrance. You moaned at her taste, and Visenya tensed against you at the vibrations, her hips rolling against your face. Slick coated your chin as you continued to tonguefuck your Queen, her moans heady as she ground against your face. “Fingers.” Visenya commanded, and you nodded before coating two in her slick and pushing them into her. “Fuck.” The blonde groaned as she clenched around your fingers. "Such a good little whore for me." You merely started thrusting them into her, drunken off the sound of her building moans and harsh words. When you prodded the rough spot behind her pelvis, Visenya’s movements grew erratic. She rode your face without abandon, her fingers white-knuckling your hair as she squeezed yours. You didn’t stop after her moans hit a crescendo, your fingers continuing at the bruising pace she loved. You lapped up every drop of her cum, licking it off your lips when she finally pulled you away from her core. Visenya looked so fucking beautiful like this, her silver hair frizzing around her face and her heavy-lidded eyes staring down at you lovingly. She closed her violet irises for a few moments longer, lips parted as she caught her breath. When her eyes opened again, they were once more darkened with lust. She pulled you to your feet before pushing you back against the altar. This time she turned you so you lay along the length of the marble, and she crawled up after you, coming to settle between your parted legs. Her hot breath teased against your throbbing core, slick coating your thighs as she pressed her lips to them. Her tongue darted out to taste your essence, looking up at you with a dark look in her eyes before she bit into your thigh. You grunted in pain, another wave of arousal shooting through you as Visenya released you. Pressing a kiss to the burning flesh, she finally swiped her tongue across you, spreading your slick around with a deft tongue. She didn’t wait a moment longer before feasting on you like a starved woman, her lips pressing around your button before she sucked on it and slipped a finger into you. Your heels dug into the marble as you writhed against her touch, wild moans filling the sept. In response, she slid another finger into you and increased the pace, her eyes wild as she drove herself into you. 

When the heat started to build in your gut once more you reached out to hold the hand that she had rested on your hip, and squeezed it lightly. “May I please cum?” You whimpered, arched against the cool marble. Visenya hummed approvingly against you, her fingers quickening as your orgasm came crashing over you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you clenched impossibly tight around your lover’s fingers, hips rolling as you moaned out Visenya’s name incoherently. She didn’t let up until you had started to whimper and push her away, pulling back to rest her head against your thigh.  A haughty grin spread across her face at the sight of you, but her hands were gentle as they stroked your thigh. 

She came to sit up on the altar, pulling your head into her lap. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Guilt tinged at her tone, and you squeezed her arm reassuringly as you shook your head no. She nodded and tutted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “And you know I love you?” You smiled and pushed yourself up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I love you too.” Having the power to clothe yourself in shadows was entirely useless until it wasn’t. Since meeting Visenya you have become well practiced in it. The tatters of nightshade fabric fell back over your body as if it had been poured there, and the two of you left the sept hand in hand as you returned to the royal apartments.

When the two of you arrived, you were both shocked to see Maegor tearing the heads off of the soul dolls while Aenys watched horrified a few feet away. “Maegor!” You exclaimed. Honestly, you didn’t know where he got his atrocious manners from some days. You would say his father if Aegon had anything to do with his birth because he certainly wasn’t around to teach him afterward. Shaking your head, you gathered a few of the dolls before passing them to Aenys. “We’ve talked about this.” You said gently, kneeling down to look Maegor in the eyes. He stared glumly down at his feet, and you looked back to see Visenya leaning against the doorway with an amused smile on her face. Turning back, you waited for him to raise his gaze to yours, and when he did you gave him a gentle smile. “It’s impolite to not share with your brother.” You explained, gesturing over at Aenys, who was cradling the doll holding the Septa’s soul. “How would you feel if he was tearing the heads off of his toys and didn’t offer any to you?” The boy’s lower lip trembled for a second as he nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Aenys.” You kissed Maegor on the forehead after he said it, and rose back to your feet. Taking a few steps back, you rejoined Visenya where she was watching the two boys. Aenys tentatively tugged at the doll’s head while Maegor beamed at him, when it wrenched loose a howling wail filled the tower. Maegor giggled excitedly, and Aenys was so excited from all of it that he started sobbing. You looked at Visenya lovingly and laced your fingers into hers. “We did a good thing.” You said, resting your head on her muscular shoulder. 

Raising children was hard, but it was easy when you were doing it with the person you love most in the world.

[inksandpensblog]

The Curious Case of Crane

Chapter 1: Teaching the Alphabet to the Ants

At that moment someone knocked at the door. "Come in," said the carpenter, without having the strength to rise to his feet. ... "Good day, Master Antonio," said Geppetto; "what are you doing there on the floor?" "I am teaching the alphabet to the ants." "Much good may that do you."

— Carlo Collodi, Pinocchio, Chapter II

...

It wasn't until he'd almost drawn a complete hangman that Alan considered what he was doing. 

In a split second, he realized how this might look to the others, and he almost hesitated.

But...it should be fine, shouldn't it? They knew the name of the game, they must've realized what he'd be drawing.

Or maybe they hadn't made the connection until now, like him. Maybe they still hadn't made it. Maybe only he had realized where this was headed, and it was too late to back out or change course now. 

(Another guess wrong. He drew the second arm.)

Just...just keep going. If they didn't like it, he could cross that bridge when they got to it.

.

.

.

At least he didn't have to worry about this one springing to life on him. That'd be kinda odd, wouldn't it? For a simplified visual representation of a dead person to come to life? 

That's all this one was, anyway: a representation, a symbolic caricature serving as a stand-in for a human form. Same as any other stickfigure. 

He wasn't trying to make someone. He wasn't imparting anything. It was just a body. Not even that, it was just a circle and some lines. They weren't even grouped. 

(Another guess wrong. He drew the first leg.)

.

.

.

...not that he was drawing a dead body, necessarily. No, that was morbid. Because this wasn't a dead person, or a dead stickfigure. 

It was more like...a dummy. Yeah. A fake person. 

Which...all stickfigures were, anyway. 

So that would make this one...a fake stickfigure?

.

.

.

Let's go with that. Just don't think about it too hard, Alan.

(Another guess wrong. He drew the second leg.)

[winchesterandpie]

Ice Skating

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Word Count: 808

Warnings: This is just fluff

A/N: So this has been sitting in my drafts since mid-December and I just couldn't finish it up. It's not my most polished piece, but I really like the idea so I'm putting this out anyways. Hope you enjoy this short piece of fluff!

You weren’t sure how you had let Jake convince you to come along. Admittedly, you weren’t difficult to persuade when it came to spending time with him. Still, you were questioning your life decisions as you tied off your ice skates.

“No, no, darlin’. It’s gotta be tighter or you’ll hurt your ankles.”

“I pulled them as tight as I could,” you sighed defeatedly, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Jake crouched in front of you, his hands coming to the sides of your face to lift your eyes to his. “You did good, I promise, they’re really close. I just don’t want you getting hurt. Can I tie them?”

“Are you sure? I know you want to get on the ice with everyone.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips then untied one of the skates. “It’ll only take a second. But even if it took an hour, I’d still rather be here with you.”

You couldn’t help but melt. He seemed to have made it his goal to make you weak in the knees. And Jake Seresin was very good at achieving his goals.

Jake’s nimble fingers quickly finished tightening your laces and looked back up at you. “You should be good to go now.”

“Thank you.” You took his face in your hands and stole a kiss.

He grinned and stole another, then pulled away to leave a last kiss on your forehead before he stood and offered you his hands.

You took them and stood, wobbling a little on the thin blade. Jake dutifully held you steady as you made your way slowly to the gate onto the ice rink. Frankly, even if he had tried to let go, he couldn’t have escaped your grip, made tight by your fear of falling onto the cold ice.

“I’ve got you,” he reassured when you slipped, a choked gasp leaving your throat.  “You’re ok.”

“How do you move around on this?” If you had been less afraid, you might have been embarrassed at how your voice squeaked.

“I’ll show you.” Jake shifted your grip to just hold his hand rather than cling to his arm. “You have to let it glide.”

“It’s the gliding I’m afraid of,” you admitted with a chuckle. You looked around, hoping Jake’s friends weren’t watching you struggle to balance. They were already so much more capable than you, you thought, so you didn’t want to give them another area in which you couldn’t keep up. Not that they ever made you feel that way, your nerves just brought out your fears.

He laughed gently, lifting his free hand to your cheek and drawing your attention back to him. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“I won’t let you fall. Promise.” 

You searched his eyes, finding nothing but gentle reassurance in their green depths. It soothed your nerves, as he always did. Your shoulders loosened, and at last, you nodded. With his hand in yours, you felt like you could do anything. So if he thought you could do this, you believed him.

True to his word, he didn’t let you fall. He showed you how to propel yourself forward smoothly and keep your balance. You slipped and bobbled and first, but he caught you every time, and soon you were confident enough to let go of his hand for the straight sides.

“See, you’re getting the hang of it.” Jake grinned as the two of you swooped around the curve of the ice rink. 

“Well, I had a very good teacher.” You bumped his shoulder lightly.

He slid his arm around you, letting you lean your head against him as you skated along the side.

“Thank you for convincing me to come out here. I’m glad I did,” you admitted after a quiet lap.

“I’m glad you came too, sweets,” he said, squeezing his arm around you. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“You make me feel brave,” you explained simply, looking at him briefly before turning your gaze back to the ice in front of you. When you looked over again, you caught the rare degree of softness in his gaze.

Bradley must have caught it too, skating by with an all-too-chill wink. “Someone finally silenced Hangman. I thought I’d never see the day,” he teased.

That shook Jake from his trance, shoving the mustached pilot away lightly, though he still only had eyes for you. “Oh hush, Bradshaw. Not my fault that my girl is amazing.”

That made your cheeks heat up under the intensity of his stare. 

Bradley just grinned, skating off to claim a bill handed to him by Mickey. That made you laugh. Jake followed your gaze to see it and chuckled too as he tugged you closer.

“One of these days, we’ll have to get a cut of whatever money they’re making on us.”

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