#on his right side away from the window but towards maverick and that is just too awkward for him

[polar-equinoxx]

Iceman will absolutely sacrifice his needs and wants for Maverick’s.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 18 - Mirror sex

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: age gap, set during top gun: maverick, handjobs, penetration, dirty talk

word count: 1587

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You awoke from your nap a few hours after dozing off on the couch. The sun had gone down in the midst of your slumber, moonlight pooling in through the window. There was a blanket draped over you now, one that you had not initially fallen asleep with. It smelled like fabric softener, the same one you used on Maverick’s clothes. Your half-lidded, sleepy eyes jolt open at the realization that he was home. 

After stretching the knots in your body—the couch really isn’t too comfy for naps—you swing your legs over the side and immediately skip down the hall towards your bedroom. The house is quiet and chilly. You’re not sure what time it is, but you fully expect Maverick to be in bed, or settling down at least. 

In your bedroom, Maverick is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. 

Unable to contain your excitement after a long day without him, you exclaim, “Baby!”

He turns to look at you, a smile spreading on his face as you practically run and throw yourself at him from behind. You press your chest to his back, wrapping your arms around his frame. They settle on his chest, warm and damp from a shower. Your face peaks from behind his shoulders to meet him for a long-awaited kiss. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips, his smile still spread wide.

You pull back, aiming your kisses at his face instead. “When’d you get home?” 

He blinks slowly, enjoying your kisses. “About half an hour ago. I had a busy day.”

The corner of his mouth, his chin, the underside of his jaw. Firm, but soft underneath your lips. “Mm? What’d you do?”

“Beach day with the kids,” he sighs. “Dogfight football.”

You pull back, cocking a brow. “Dogfight football?”

He nods, smiling hazily. “Offense and defense at the same time.”

You snicker, staring at his tired face. You give him a few more kisses, this time to his lips, deep and passionate. “I wish I was one of your students.”

“Mm.. I don’t,” he murmurs, amused. “I felt like an old man today. Had to sit and let them take over after a while.”

It’s when you glance up and find yourself face-to-face with your reflections that you get the idea. The mirror facing the bed gives you a clear cut view of the bottom half of Maverick’s body, clad in nothing but a towel from his shower. 

“An old man, huh?” Your hands run up and down his pecs, massaging his skin. 

Maverick leans back, relaxing against your body. Staring at yourself in the mirror, at the way your hands roam on his chest, excites something deep in your stomach. Your lips move to his shoulders, his skin golden from being out in the sun all day. You want him to see it too.

You let your hands roam further, fingers trailing down his abs. He jerks slightly when they prod inside the towel, pushing inside and ghosting over his hip bones. He lets out a little moan at your touch, sold. You grin. 

Maverick chuckles at your eager hands, letting you unfold the towel from around his waist. The fabric falls, exposing his cock, soft against his thigh. He looks down, helps you move the towel out of the way before you stop him. 

“No—” You swat his hands away and then reach for his face, directing it towards the mirror. “I’ll take care of you. Just look.”

He does as he’s told, staring right at his reflection. He breathes out sharply when you reach down to take his cock in your fist. You lean your chin against his shoulder, watching yourself along with him.

Maverick looks almost shy—eyes dancing from you to your hand, to the bewildered look on his face. His expression is even more priceless when you lean over his shoulder to let a bit of spit drip down, coating the tip just enough to smoothen your movements. Moving your thumb over his slit, he groans softly as you spread your spit all over the flushed head. When his cock begins to harden in your fist, your palm moves south, loosely gripping his shaft in shallow up and down strokes. You watch his face, his lips parted, his lashes heavy on his eyes as he feels the waves of pleasure jolting through him. 

You add more pressure the more noises he makes, strokes quickening more and more. You watch him through the mirror, how his body jerks and how he’s trying very hard to keep his hips still. You continue pressing kisses to his shoulder, trailing up until your teeth graze his ear. He shudders, breathlessly moaning out your name.

It’s incredibly arousing to watch him come apart under your touch. He attempts to continue looking at you, though it’s difficult as he nears his orgasm, his eyes lidded in a daze. 

“Look at me,” you whisper. Your wrist is slightly strained but it’s all or nothing now; his eyes flick to you again and it’s then that you stroke furiously, pace hard and quick. He chokes out a moan, watching his cum spurt out against his stomach just a minute later.

You press an open-mouthed kiss to his cheek, and then another on his jaw, biting slightly on the skin underneath his jawline. He shudders again, body nearly going slack from the quick and sudden orgasm. 

You get another idea, pulling off of him and off the bed to strip yourself of your clothes. Panting, Maverick watches.

When you’re fully bare, you sink to your knees—your back to him—and immediately crouch down in front of the mirror. The rug digs at your knees but you try your best to arch for him, ass up. You watch through the mirror as he sinks to the floor with you, kneeling in your direction. Warm hands meet your ass and slide up around your waist. Making eye contact with you through the glass, he coats his fingers in enough saliva to easily rub you up and down. You’re so turned on that you’re sure you don’t need much prep, your walls already clenching around nothing. His fingers slide through your folds, your cunt growing slippery in arousal.

Only half-hard again, he strokes himself a couple times with the slick he’s gathered, hissing at the sensations.

When he slowly slips his cock inside, he forgets to keep looking at you. His eyebrows pulled together in white hot bliss, he looks down and watches as it disappears inside of you inch by inch. You allow him that momentarily, watching his face contort beautifully at the tight heat of your body. 

When he’s fully situated inside of you, his hips pressed to your ass, you remind him, “Baby, look at me.”

He groans, low in the back of his throat, and raises his head to meet your eyes through the glass again. 

You bite your lip, in awe at the picture in front of you. Maverick looks flushed, his muscles defined in the dim lighting, jaw clenched as the pleasure courses through his body. Best of all, there’s a look in his eye, one that reads of total submission. He’s all yours; he’s doing this for you. You should tell him how pretty he looks. 

Feeling full makes it hard to speak. You wait for him to move, but it seems he’s taking it in, soaking up how good it feels to just rock shallowly like that inside of you, your walls adjusting around him. 

“Fuck,” you whine. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

He groans again, his cheeks turning crimson at your words, the heat licking up his ears. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He starts moving, pays no mind to the slight oversensitivity from cumming just a couple minutes prior, and fucks you through it. His strokes are sloppy and messy, aiming for another quick orgasm but really just getting to watch you unfold in front of him too. You’re biting your lip, the sense of self-awareness slightly intimidating. You watch as your body rocks against his, his hips slamming against yours and rutting your knees forward on the carpet ever so slightly with each thrust. It burns, but the pleasure inside of you feels bigger and better, his stare edging you on quicker than you can process.

“Oh, fuck—Pete,” you whine out, “Fucking—look at you.”

He tries to keep his composure, bites down hard on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his noises until you start to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts. You watch his face, how close to the edge he gets every time your hips slam together.

Neither of you last very long; you hadn’t realized just how dizzying it is to look at everything unfolding in front of you. Maverick’s second orgasm hits him hard, and you watch as he pulls out and falls back against the edge of the bed in a heap of moans and curses, stroking every bit of cum out against his thigh (and the floor, you realize). Moaning through your own collapse, your knees give out from the rug burn. You curl up on the floor for a second, letting the sensation course through you, but Maverick reaches for you with a strong arm. He pulls you to him, your body eagerly sinking into his. 

You laugh together, still in front of the mirror. Completely disheveled now, Maverick in need of another shower. You’re glad you get to join this one.

[enkas-illusion]

One of Your Guys

One of Your Guys - Part 2/3

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, smut (oral, f.receiving), language, hurt/comfort, angst (kinda?), friends to lovers

Chapter Summary: Sorting out your feelings always feels like a nightmare, but it becomes a lot more bearable when your flatmate plays cupid to help you with it.

Author’s Note: This is a long ass chapter lol, could’ve split it in two but I wanted to commit to the 3-part story thing. Enjoy!

(P.S. Will probably post Part 3 this Saturday... I had a lot of fun writing it, to say the least)

Song Dedication: Those Eyes by New West / Carry Me Home by Jorja Smith & Maverick Sabre

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Fuck… yes, right there,” you moan as you look down between your thighs. Choso’s eyes look up at you as he eats you out with a steady pace – sucking and licking at your pussy just as you like it.

Your legs shake as you chant his name on repeat. Your hands roam down to tug at his jet black hair, your back arching off the bed. The wet sound of his mouth against your core has the adrenaline rushing to your head, keeping you from thinking straight.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, almost there. Just a little bit more.

“Satoru… I’m clos-'' your words get caught in your throat as you look down with a blurry vision. The man between your legs stills his movement and sits up to move away from you.

“Satoru?” Choso lets out a chuckle in disbelief, “Is that who you belong to?” 

You open your mouth to talk but it feels like you’ve lost your voice and no matter how hard you try to speak, you simply can’t. Panic sets in and as if on cue, an incessant buzzing sound rings in your ears from your bedside table. As soon as you turn to the side to shut it off, your hand accidentally hits the edge of the table. 

Ouch.

That’s how you wake up the next day, in cold sweat and even more delirious than the night before. What the fuck was that? It’s as if your own mind is out to get you.

So much for wanting emotional clarity in the morning.

You grab the bottle from the side table, taking big gulps of water, almost emptying the entire thing before returning it back to its place. You tap on your phone to check the time – 02:54 PM – you’d slept in all through the morning.

Leaving your bed lazily, you walk towards the window to open the curtains slowly and let the light in. You’re glad the sun isn’t too harsh even though it’s late into the afternoon. You stretch a bit to release the stiffness in your body and your stomach growls. You’d barely eaten since last night, so naturally, you find yourself craving enough food to feed 10 people.

Feelings can wait, you decide, food can’t.

Just as you begin your walk to the kitchen, your doorbell rings and you reroute your steps to get the door instead. Just as you reach the door, the bell rings again.

“Patience, jezz!” you groan as you open the door. Before you’ve even opened it halfway, your flatmate barges in with her travel bags, dropping them to the floor as she gives you a bear hug.

“Miss me? It’s okay mama’s hereee.” Mia says in a sing-song tone as she squeezes and shakes you in her arms. You want to tease her and say no but this feels so comforting that you simply laugh as you nod your head and hug her back.

When she pulls away from you and observes you as you close the door, she states, “Wow, you look like shit, what happened?”

“I missed you real bad.” you say dryly. She gives you a stare down and in an effort to change the topic, you add, “Weren’t you returning in the evening?”

She places her bags near the foot of the sofa and drops to the sofa with her whole body weight. She moves to make some space when you sit next to her.

“Evening… afternoon… same thing… besides I had t-,” she pauses midway as she stares at you with wide eyes and your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Your eyes widen back at her when you see she’s not exactly staring at your face.

“Hold on, what the fuck is that???” she half yells, pointing at your hickey in sync with you slapping both your hands to your neck in a poor attempt to cover the entire area. 

Right, the hickeys. You weren’t actively aware that other people could see them, partly because, well… even you hadn’t registered everything from the previous night into your brain in a sane, rational, comprehensible manner. 

“Don’t tell me… Satoru?” she gasps as she leans forward to pull your hand away to inspect the mark near your collarbone. “To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you to confess-”

“No… it’s not Satoru…” you say as you avoid her gaze and almost mumble the next part, “...Choso did that.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” her eyes widen again as she squeals. Disbelief and amusement written all over her face. “Details! I want DETAILS!”

You take a deep breath and sigh as you tell her to freshen up before you get into it all. She protests but gets up quickly when she realises you’d delay giving her the gossip even further if she persisted. 

When Mia almost runs back to her room with her bags, you stare at her as you let out a chuckle in disbelief. Well, at least someone’s entertained.

You go to the kitchen and grab two packs of instant noodles. As you set the water on the stove for boiling, you go back to your room to take a shower to shake off the lethargic feeling that had taken over your body.

You wrap up your routine quicker than usual, knowing Mia would grow impatient if she had to wait longer than necessary whenever it came to ‘juicy drama’. 

When you get out of the bathroom in your room, you look at your reflection in the mirror as your fingers roam over the marks Choso had left on your skin. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you recall the sensation of his lips on you and then you remember the dream from less than an hour ago. You let out a sigh – you’re screwed, and it’s not the good kind.

You touch the bruise just below your left ear and move a few strands of hair over it. Your hair might do a good job at covering it, you just have to be careful not to flip it… or tie it up… or move too fast and basically freeze in place and you’ll be good.

The other hickey is much more prominent. It sits just slightly above your right clavicle. When you brush your fingers over it, it feels sensitive. This is going to be a task to cover up. You sigh again – something you’ve been doing a lot since yesterday. 

For now, you decide a round neck t-shirt would be good enough as you rummage through your closet. You get dressed quickly and walk to the kitchen. By the time you’re done serving the hot noodles in two bowls, you hear Mia’s footsteps from behind.

“Need any help?” she asks as she enters the kitchen. “Yes, can you please grab our coffee?” you say and you tilt your head in the direction of the two mugs on the counter. She takes the mugs and walks out, you follow behind with the noodle bowls.

The minute you set everything on the coffee table in front of the sofa, your roomie turns you around. You realise trying to cover up the hickeys was a futile effort as Mia yanks the neckline down to observe the mark above your collarbone.

You scrunch your face as she squeals with a series of ‘Ohmygodddddd, I can’t believe this actually happened. I CALLED IT! I told you! I told you it was gonna happen!!!’

You’ve been hearing one too many ‘I told you so’s for the last two days and so far none of them have been pleasant. 

“You done or should I take a nap while you fangirl?” you joke dryly as she gives you a side-eye and punches your shoulder playfully.

“Okay, tell me everything. That’s a deep mark, I just know he’s a freak! What was his dick like? I’m sure it’s big… It’s always the quiet ones!” She speaks so fast that any normal person would miss half of what she’d just said.

“I don’t know… because we never got to that part.” you reply sternly. She frowns at you and stares at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

You tell her everything from the top – about seeing the snaps from the party, calling Choso over, him comforting you, the accidental make out and his confession after. She interrupts you several times to ask for details when she catches you skimming over some parts. 

Nothing can ever get past Mia so you realise you might as well ask for her expert opinion on all of this. You’d always trusted her opinion when it came to matters of the heart since she’s always drawing from her own experiences. Mia is the type of person who has superior insight and introspective ability that you only wish to develop some day.

As you both hungrily gobble down the noodles and coffee, you also tell her that ever since Choso pointed it out, you’ve suddenly been awfully aware about how Satoru knew you had a crush on him but never cared enough to confront you about it.

“... and so I can’t help but feel that the reason I never told him I had a crush on him is because deep down I might’ve been scared of getting rejected. Because, if he knows I like him, it means that he ignored my feelings and kept me on a hook on purpose…” you trail off towards the end of your monologue, still grappling with all your half-cooked emotions.

“Hmm,” Mia ponders over your words, taking a brief pause before speaking up, “Satoru does like attention so I won’t be surprised if he gave you just enough signals to keep the crush alive but not enough to give you a clear indication of anything stronger… still, I doubt that dummy had any ill intention, maybe he thought your crush was surface level and not some deep infatuation.”

“Well, now I’m not even sure if I like him.” you almost whisper, embarrassed to admit it out loud.

“You’ve been pining over him for about 6 months.” Mia narrows her eyes at you.

“I know… but I can’t explain it. Now that I know Satoru never really considered me as a potential partner, it’s sort of making me realise how delusional I've been. I hadn’t felt anything all these years of us being friends so why did I suddenly like him just months ago? I hate liking him… it’s so frustrating!” you wonder out loud, hoping she’d have some answers.

Instead, she asks you something that you honestly have no answer to, “How do you know when you actually like someone?”

“You find them attractive and like spending time with them?” you answer as you think of Satoru. She urges you to continue, not satisfied with the surface-level shit. You think harder and add, “When tiny things remind you of them? It’s like you can find traces of them in your everyday life, even when sometimes the situation might not be related to them.” 

You’ve been picking at your nails but stop the movement as soon as you notice it. Mia stays quiet as you look up at her to continue.

“Oh! And you want to know their likes and dislikes, but not just the basics. You want to know their thoughts on something you like as well and you want to share more of you with them and get to know them more than anyone ever has.” you smile as you finish your analysis. But your smile quickly fades when you realise that Satoru wasn’t the one on your mind when you spoke the last few sentences.

“Look at you gooo,” Mia whistles, causing you to roll your eyes at her. As if it’s an intuitive thing for her, she asks, “Who was on your mind just now?”

Not Satoru.

“No one.” you know it’s not the answer she wants to hear. She’s too optimistic to believe you’d be more open about your feelings, no matter how confusing they might be. 

“You know what they say, you can lie to everyone else but yourself… all I can tell you is that if you didn’t think of Satoru then our poor blondie was just a placeholder.” she begins but you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Placeholder?” you interrupt to ask.

“Yes. You know how we’re always taught a romanticised version of love? It’s like, somewhere along the way, we mistake craving for love itself with craving for a particular person. You want to feel the feeling of being in love but you can’t possibly do that if the feeling itself has no face to it. So when I call him a placeholder, it’s in the way you channel your delusions of love through him when you may not even have any romantic feelings for him to begin with!”

You process everything that she says and as much as you dislike the way it is making you feel, deep down you know that her theory might apply to you more than you’d like to admit. 

She speaks up again after a brief pause, “You liked the feeling of crushing on someone because it signified that the romantic space in your heart wasn't empty… and who else could possibly be a better placeholder than your closest friend, Satoru?”

You stay silent. You feel exposed. As if your emotions had been bared out in the open without your permission. The kind of emotions that are too rough to be brought to the surface. Emotions that only ever seem decent when you present a polished, snipped version of them to the outside world.

Mia is aware of this. She knows this all too well because she’d been in your position way too many times. She pulls you out of your thoughts as she speaks up again.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” she squeezes your hand gently. You give her a smile despite still feeling like you’re tripping over the heavy realisation you just had. “Let’s watch something?”

She turns the TV on and sees Bridgerton under your ‘Continue Watching’ tab and lets out a tiny giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. You punch her arm lightly.

“Maybe you can text Choso about continuing the show... ‘Heyyy, do you want to come over and finish where we left off.’” she says, trying to mock you with a sexy voice and it makes you laugh.

Mia ends up picking a random 2000s romcom and you both doze off on the sofa by the time the credits roll. When you wake up, it’s already quite late, so you order some food and call it a night when you’re done with dinner.

—

The whole week passes by quicker than expected since you were mostly busy with work during the day and busy pondering over what the recent reversal of your crush on Satoru means moving forward.

By the time Saturday arrives, you feel as if you have sorted out your feelings in the best way you possibly could. There was nothing to fix when it came to Satoru since you’d stopped feeling miserable over him. In your mind, he’d already gone back to being your close friend but at the same time, you were awfully aware that the only thing you really missed about crushing on him was the placeholder phenomenon Mia had described so well.

As for Choso, it was a whole different thing. You completely ignored any thoughts about him that arose in your mind for about 3 days after the kiss. Afterall, you’d accused him of thinking with his dick that night, it’d be hypocritical if you felt attracted to him just because you made out.

So after not texting him for a week, here you were, contemplating texting him as you sat in the living room. He hadn’t texted you all week either, you debate to yourself. 

Well, can you blame him? 

You take a deep breath as you text him, asking him if he had time for hot chocolate. He replies with a simple ‘yes’ after what feels like forever (15 minutes later).

Not wanting to bother him with the task when he arrives, you prepare two cups of hot chocolate and keep them at their place on the coffee table as you wait for your doorbell to ring eagerly.

You almost sprint to the door when the bell rings five minutes later. You rub your sweaty hands on the fabric of your t-shirt before opening the door with a wide smile. He returns your smile as he walks in and past you to sit on the sofa.

No hugs. Okay.

You notice his hair is pulled up in a sweaty bun with his gym bag placed near his feet.

“You were at the gym?” you inquire.

“Hmm. Texted you when I was wrapping it up.” he replies as he takes one of the cups. You sit next to him and grab the other one.

You’re almost offended at him going to the gym alone. For about 4 months now, you’d been going together on the weekends since your weekday schedules don’t align well enough to make it to the gym at the same time. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask, your voice sounds dejected although you’d tried masking it well. 

“Figured you’d want some space.” he replies curtly. You want to yell at him to stop being so formal. You miss your Choso.

“Choso,” you sigh as you look at him, waiting for him to meet your gaze. When he does, you speak again, “A lot happened and I needed time to process it all. You were right about it all, about Satoru ignoring me and me doing the same to you. I’m so sorry that I made you feel as if you were only an emotional support friend. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me.”

You notice the stiffness in his shoulders ease a bit at your words. Taking it as a positive sign you continue, “I won’t lie, but I haven’t really seen you in a romantic light since I’ve been blindly crushing over Satoru… not to say that I don’t find you attractive! You’re hot- but that’s besides the point… the point is, can we be friends first? I’d really like to know you for who you are, without all of our talks being overshadowed by me ranting about some stupid crush.”

You almost believe your words did more damage than good before you see a smile break on Choso’s otherwise resting face. You smile back at him.

It’s his turn to speak now, “I think I can handle that… but I believe you’re being too harsh on yourself. While your crush has been a constant topic of conversation, you’ve been a good friend regardless. You have been there for me whenever I needed a friend to talk to and you always listen to me rant about work or whatever just as much.”

You nod at him to continue.

“I’d say we already know each other pretty well. But of course, I'll always want to know more about you… what can I say? You’ve piqued my interest and it’s been hard to let go since.” he pinches your cheek as you feel a blush creep up your face.

You push his hand away but it’s only to get closer to hug him. He wraps his arms around your waist, completely enveloping you into his space, but it's far from invasive – it’s more welcoming than ever. You bury your face into his neck, breathing in the soothing scent of oud and jasmine, mixed with a tiny hint of sweat.

“So, how are things on the Satoru front? You’re almost making it sound as if you’ve lost interest.” he jokes when you pull away, secretly hoping his intuition is right.

You briefly tell him about your talk with Mia, leaving out the part where you’d told your roomie all about the makeout sesh. He raises an eyebrow at the placeholder theory but simply nods as he thinks it over in his head.

“So you really are over him?” He asks once again. Even if he intends to seek reassurance, you can’t tell by the way his tone is almost indifferent. 

You joke about his crush on you being a similar type of thing and you bet him that he’ll soon realise he doesn’t like you like he thought he did.

“You’re a lot more than a placeholder to me, baby.” he pouts at you before swiftly getting up to take the empty cups back to the kitchen, not giving you time to react. You watch his back, baffled at how daring and straightforward Choso can get sometimes.

He returns at the same time Mia comes out of her room, yawning as she covers her mouth.

“Hey Choso, how are you?” she smiles slyly at him. There’s a sudden shift in his body language and you realise Mia’s presence has suddenly made him nervous. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

He’s aware you’ve told her about him.

And based on how well he knows you, he’s certain you’ve given Mia an unabridged version of the events of last Saturday. He greets her back with an awkward ‘sup’ and you can’t help but think of it as a boyfriend-meets-parents type of situation.

Your amusement is visible on your face and Mia catches onto it. What she says next surprises you.

“Good thing you’re here. I was just inviting people over for my birthday weekend next weekend.” she smiles at him.

“Birthday weekend?” Choso asks.

“Yup, so each year, the people whose birthdays lie on and/or closest to the weekend, they get a whole weekend where they’re the boss and everyone else in the group has to strictly follow whatever they’ve planned for the whole group.” she explains.

Choso looks at you, already loving being invited to something like this. “But don’t get your hopes up too high! Mia is a homebody so we’re all probably going to be trapped at home baking stuff or something like that.” you add, nonetheless, his excitement doesn’t fade. 

He tells Mia he’ll be looking forward to it and hugs you both like he’s about to leave. This time you ask him to stay to finish the last 2 episodes of Bridgerton. He thinks it over hesitantly but agrees. The only difference this time is that Mia has joined you on the sofa. You don’t complain though, since the last thing you needed right now was to be left alone with Choso while watching steamy sex scenes from the final episodes.

When Choso eventually leaves, you express your surprise to Mia at her inviting him for the birthday weekend, which almost always, only involves your tiny group consisting of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Kento, Mia and you.

“Think of it as me playing cupid babe”, she pouts as she makes kissing sounds at you and you palm her face to push her away. She giggles, “My plan is to keep everyone trapped in the house for two whole days, it’ll be so boring, it’ll ironically be so much fun. And you get to spend all your time with your loverboy.”

“He’s not my loverboy,” you protest.

“Oh yeah? Say that to his cute ass puppy eyes that always fixate on you whenever he hears you laugh. He’s so gone for you, it’s almost sickening to watch, being a third wheel.”

“Give it a rest… dear lord!” you say but you can’t help but feel another blush forming on your cheeks due to her constant teasing.

You were trying your best not to like Choso romantically, you wanted to give it time to make sure you weren’t liking him as just another placeholder.

—

The next week passes by just as quickly. The only difference is that this time you constantly find yourself taking tiny breaks from work to text Choso. You feel great relief when he texts you back with the same enthusiasm… or maybe he’s always been that way and you’re the one who’s just now noticing it.

Mia had explained her plan for the birthday weekend on your friends’ group chat. The plan was for everyone to gather at your place on Friday evening, along with whatever essentials they needed to hibernate for the next two days. You call it hibernate because Mia’s one rule for the weekend was that nobody would step outside the apartment at any cost, unless someone had an emergency only as grave as a heart attack.

Psychopath would be a harsh word, but, hypothetically speaking, if Mia were given a chance to take part in one of those human psychological experiments, she'd do it happily while dragging the rest of the group with her.

However, on the upside, Mia was a gamer girl through and through. It was kind of perfect because you, on the other hand, were a card game expert of sorts. It was a simple plan really –  games, drinks, movies – yet if you were to ask Satoru and Shoko’s opinion on the matter, they’d protest by saying something along the lines of a party isn’t a party unless you bar-hop while getting shitfaced drunk at 3am.

On Friday evening, as soon as you return from work, you and Mia clean the apartment for your friends’ welcome. You arrange the card games and snacks on the table before freshening up.

You’d informed Choso about the plan as well and he’d texted you half an hour ago that he’d be there in 30 minutes. You run to your room to check your outfit in the mirror once again. You straighten out the fabric of your skorts and pull at the hem of your sweatshirt. 

Casual but cute — you did not want to make it seem as if you dressed up to stay at home but you figured you could at least look a bit presentable. You touch up your lipgloss and convince yourself it’s strictly to protect your lips from cracking due to the cold.

When the bell rings, you feel as if the inside of your stomach does a backflip. You hurriedly walk out of your room and see Mia at the door, welcoming Choso in. He’s wearing a vivid indigo blue sweater with black sweatpants. The feeling in your stomach returns when you observe his soft hair pushed back and tucked behind his ears with a few tiny strands kissing his forehead.

He gives her a side hug as he hands her a long black box wrapped with a golden ribbon. You walk towards them and you swear you see his smile grow when he looks at you. He puts his hand out to you and you grab it. With a smooth movement, he pulls you to him while his other arm wraps around your shoulder. The hug is brief yet it makes you feel giddy.

Shit. Staying platonic with him is going to be one hell of a task.

“...hope it won’t be awkward for your other friends.” your thought breaks when you hear him talk to Mia. 

“No, not at all! Don’t worry, they’re all pretty chill!” Mia reassures him. Choso has met your group a handful of times so they are, what one would consider, mutuals, but he’s only friends with you and Mia in the real sense of the word.

“What did you get?” you ask him, looking at the wrapped box in Mia’s hands. He gestures for her to open it. Her smile grows as she pulls out the big bottle of scotch, waving it around in excitement.

“Thank you for aiding my borderline alcoholism with my drink of choice.” she jokes as she bows at him.

“Always glad to help.” he laughs as he bows his head to mimic her. You smile to yourself, happy that he’s so attentive and considerate of everyone close to him. “By the way, where do I keep my bag?” he asks, sliding his backpack off his shoulder.

“You can keep it in my room… everyone is probably going to dump everything there since Mia’s room has their precious xbox setup.” you say as he smiles and makes his way to your room. Mia goes to the kitchen to keep the bottle somewhere it’s safe and sound.

When Choso returns, he observes the decks of multiple card games, arranged on the table. There’s Dobble, Monopoly Deal, UNO, and chess as well. You had to restrain yourself from bringing out all the other games you had since you did not want to overwhelm your friends with too many options.

“Which one is your favourite?” he asks.

“Kamo… would you pick favourites if you ever had kids?” you retort.

“Yes.” he says with a straight face, “now, answer me.” His tone makes you snort but you grab the tin with the Dobble cards as you explain how it works. Mia returns from the kitchen and you offer her to join your game but she makes up some excuse to go back to her room, leaving you alone with Choso. You have a feeling she’s going to try to manufacture such moments for the two of you throughout the whole weekend.

You have three clean wins before Choso starts getting frustrated at his loss. “How on earth can you spot them so quickly!?”

You shrug, smug about your wins. When you draw the next hand, the bell rings and you turn your head to look towards the door. Mia comes out to get it and you hear Choso yell, “GOT IT!” causing you to turn back to the cards.

“Hey! It doesn’t count, I wasn’t paying attention.” you complain.

“Not my fault. We’d drawn the cards already.” he says, grinning with a pleased look on his face. You know he's not going to concede so you let it go.

“I wasn’t aware we were allowed to bring plus one this time?” you hear Satoru’s voice behind you. You turn around to roll your eyes at him. He’s leaning down to your side with a wide grin and his arms extended. You hook your arm around his waist to give him a side hug.

“I invited him, he’s replacing you since you’re so busy nowadays.” Mia speaks up and you press your lips to keep yourself from laughing. He presses his hands to his chest dramatically as if Mia’s words have physically wounded him.

You crinkle your nose to cringe at him and you sense Choso looking at you. But as soon as you look back at him, he turns his head down as he grabs all the cards to put them back in the tin.

“Quitting already?” you tease him. He looks up at you and smirks, “No, there’s enough people to play Monopoly now. You just wait and watch how I smoke you.”

“What makes you so sure? You don’t know who you’re up against.” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hmmm… wanna bet?” He challenges you. 

You smile cockily, “Deal, what’s at stake?”

“Oh, nothing too bold… maybe just your heart and soul.” he teases you. You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep yourself from blushing at his comment and break eye contact to lean towards the table to grab the deck of Monopoly Deal.

You fail to notice that Satoru had already started drawing conclusions based on the tiny interaction he witnessed between you and Choso. As he walks to the kitchen with Mia, he half whispers, “Is it just me o-”

“Nope. you’re seeing it right.” she interrupts him.

“Since when did Choso, of all people, get so close with her?” he inquires.

“Haha, blondie… you have no idea!” Mia chuckles, amused. “Why? You jealous?” 

He snickers at her question, “No.”

“Good.”

The conversation ends there and he knows better than to push it further. As the duo returns, carrying four glasses of homemade lemonade mixed with vodka, you jump up to walk towards them to grab two of them and hand one to Choso. He thanks you with a smile and you return it.

When Mia suggests it, you all sit on the floor around the table comfortably as you distribute the cards for everyone.

When you win the first game of Monopoly, you stick your tongue out at Choso. He didn’t seem to mind losing at all, nonetheless, he feigned hurt, “Damn, do I really need to give you my heart and soul now?”

With the alcohol getting to you, you felt brave enough to flirt with him as you replied back in an instant, “I thought you’d already given your heart to me?”

His eyebrows raise up in surprise as he lets out a chuckle. He drags your name out as he speaks, “You know I consider myself to be a romantic of sorts, but that’s too cheesy even for me!” you slap his arm as both of you start laughing as if it’s the funniest thing ever, almost forgetting that Mia and Satoru are right there in the room with you two.

You only turn to look at Satoru when he clears his throat. “Oh right… When is the rest of the gang getting here?” you ask Satoru.

“Check the group chat, they’ve texted.” he replies curtly. And you can’t help but feel as if he’s acting a bit cold. Usually you’d brush it off as just overthinking, or blame it on the alcohol but you’re certain that throughout the game, he has been actively ignoring you.

The awkwardness of the situation dissipates a little when Shoko, Kento and Suguru arrive about an hour later. When the clock strikes midnight, everyone hands Mia their presents but everyone is too drunk to care what the others have gotten her.

You’d be lying if you said you remembered anything about the events of Friday night through Sunday morning. The photos and videos on your phones are the only evidence you have of a time well spent. There was a lot of gossip, cheating at card games, fighting for turns on the Xbox, laughing at shit jokes, crying at sappy hallmark movies and an incident where you and Mia almost set the kitchen on fire, trying to bake a batch of brownies for everyone. You were barred from entering the kitchen all day after that and it was followed by a long debate about how it was against your rights as owners to be banned from your own kitchen. You gave up on trying to forcefully enter the kitchen after a while, since five people against two wasn’t really a fair battle.

So Sunday morning, it was a collective decision to stay sober to avoid being hungover at work the next day. Not like you guys had a choice anyway, since all the booze had been wiped out in the last 36 hours, not even Choso’s fancy scotch had survived the night. It was all a haze, to say the least.

Although you vaguely remember Choso and you sharing a few moments alone from time to time, you also remember all of them being interrupted, mostly by Satoru. You make a mental note of wanting to confront Satoru sometime soon.

Sometime soon arrives Sunday evening when Satoru walks in on you and Choso making hot chocolate in the kitchen. You’d been talking to Choso about who had the highest tolerance among the group.

You’re pressed to his side with your head resting on his shoulder as he leans against the counter. “...far from it. You’re a lightweight!” Choso calls your bullshit.

“No, listen… I vibe easily, I don’t get drunk easily. There’s a difference.” you protest.

He pinches your cheek, teasing, “okay baby… whatever you say.”

You try to elbow him but stop your movement when you hear Satoru enter the kitchen, “Are you making hot chocolate?”

You’re slightly annoyed at his feigned innocence since you’d already asked the entire group if they wanted hot chocolate, like, 5 minutes ago. He had declined then.

“Cool, can I get one too?” he asks.

“Sure.” you leave Choso’s side as you grab another mug to prepare the drink. 

Sensing the tension, Choso excuses himself politely, “I’m outside, okay?” he squeezes your shoulder before walking out of the kitchen.

“You seem pretty close.” Satoru comments. You put the mug in the oven before you turn around to look at him.

“Satoru… what is it?” you sigh.

“Nothing�� I’m just surprised you got over me so quickly.” he says playfully.

Oh, so you’re having this conversation right now.

“You can’t possibly be serious right now? What do you mean moved on? What was there to move on from… you ignoring my feelings and only keeping me on the hook whenever you wanted attention?” you sound far from playful.

“Ouch.” he says quietly. Maybe talking to you about this was a bad idea.

“Look… I’m sorry if me having a crush on you made you uncomfortable. I’d hate for things to be awkward now after being such close friends all these years. But I’m sad that you sort of led me on and toyed with my emotions for your own amusement.” you add as you look down.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Satoru moves towards you to hug you. He pats your head with one hand while the other rubs your back.

“I had no idea that having a crush on me made you so miserable. We’ve always been flirting with each other platonically, I initially thought it was the same thing. When I realised you were serious about it, I figured that maybe it would fade without us needing to address it.” he says softly.

“No, to be honest, I realised quite recently that I don’t really like you like that.” you interrupt him.

“Yeah, no shit. You’ve been flirting with him all weekend.” he laughs. You blush out of embarrassment. 

He continues, “But that’s besides the point. I’m sorry, okay? I’ve designated you as my best frien– don’t tell Suguru. I admit I did like the attention so I'm sorry for hurting you, even if it might’ve been unintentional for the most part. ”

You look up at him as you raise your eyebrows at him. Satoru isn’t the kind to apologise easily.

“Gojo Satoru is apologising to me?” you smirk at him.

“Don’t milk it. You know I really mean it, I'm truly sorry. I can also allow you one punch anywhere besides my face and crotch to prove it. I’ll always love you, you’re my homie.” he says pulling you closer into the hug. You wrap your arms around him, smacking the area near his lower back a bit too hard. You catch him by surprise as he jerks away from your touch, letting out a loud ‘ahh’.

“Jeez, what a b–,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he extends his arm out to you, “We’re even now, cool?” 

“Okay, cool.” you smile at him. “So, how’s it going with your new girl?”

“Oh it’s pretty chill. Nothing serious though. We like each other but we both agreed that it’s pretty casual.” he explains.

“Really? I was under the impression that you were falling in love and shit.” 

“How can I love someone else when I got you?” he teases as he ruffles your hair. You glare at him with a murderous intent. 

“I’m kidding!” he adds, laughing, “But no, I’m not falling in love so soon. I always thought I’d fall in love in my mid 30s. Seems like the perfect age to fall in love.” 

You shake your head, “Satoru, you dummy… love doesn’t work on your schedule. It happens when it is meant to happen! If you don’t go all the way in, deep in your feels with someone, you won’t even recognize it if love arrives in your life.”

“Okay sensei… seems like you know a lot about going all the way in deep. Is Choso also going in deep?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You cringe at his crass innuendo but nonetheless blush at the mention of Choso’s name.

“Maybe it's none of your business!” you retort. He shrugs as he puts his hands up in defeat.

“Come out soon, we’re gonna watch another romcom.” he says as he walks past you.

“Wait, your hot chocolate?” you ask as you see him walking out of the kitchen.

“Nah, on second thought, I don’t want it anymore.” he says as he leaves. You stand there as you watch him go, with equal parts amusement and equal parts disbelief.

This is the Satoru you knew, your annoying best friend and not the romanticised version of him you had in your head. You feel peaceful for a split second as you finally sense things return back to normal, before your mind wanders to thoughts of Choso. 

Can you redirect your love where it can actually be reciprocated? You’re aware that you’d been growing fond of him with every minute you spend together… but are you certain he’s not just someone you’re using to fill the vacancy in your heart?

~~~

taglist: @lik0 @hueanhdang @dellalyra @personomy

[coffeeandbatboys]

To Be Loved (Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader)

When your family treats you badly, Rooster doesn't like it and take a a stand.

Warnings: bad parenting, neglect, verbal abuse.

All it was supposed to be was a relaxing, tension-free summer afternoon barbeque. You would finally introduce Bradley to your family, eat, and leave.

But it wasn't all that simple.

"Guys, this is Bradley." You said nervously, standing next to the handsome man you called yours.

Your step dad moved forward to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, son."

You grimaced at the level of comfort he had using the term.

Your mom smiled. "Welcome to the family, Bradley. Care for something to drink? There's some stuff in the garage fridge."

He nodded politely with a tiny smile.

"Thank you, ma'am."

He looked at you tentatively as if to make sure you'd be okay. You gave him a weak smile in response. It was once he left the room that your step dad tore into you.

"The Navy, really? You're both in the Navy? Come on. We wanted you to be something more...simple. Maybe a lawyer or a doctor. And as for who you're going to date—"

"Excuse me?" You scoffed. "Since when are my life choices yours to make? You're not even my dad."

"Y/N!" Your mom gasped.

You stood your ground, calm yet angry.

"I am laying my life on the line to protect this country. What I do and who I am with is not your decision anymore."

Your step dad bristled with rage. "I raised you! You ungrateful brat. We set aside college funds for you and you turned around and threw it all out the window."

"Hey, I've heard enough. Stop talking to her like she's a child."

You turned to see Bradley in the doorway with his arms crossed, a question in his eyes.

You nodded softly.

"I think we're done here."

As you strode towards him and took his hand, you turned around to face them once again.

"In case you hadn't realized, there's a reason you didn't know about the wedding."

You didn't miss the shock on their faces before you turned to walk out the door.

Now sitting in the Bronco, you were silent and still a little hot from your rage.

"Everything you've told me could not prepare me enough for what I just heard."

"They've never been able to let me go. The only reason I agreed to come is that all I want is some semblance of a happy family. Not whatever the hell that was."

Bradley's jaw set contemplatively. The Bronco's wheels roared loudly underneath you on the highway.

And before you knew it, you were pulling into a familiar Captain's home.

"Why are we at Mav's?"

Bradley opened his door kissed your temple.

"Just wait a second. I'll be right back."

Soon, both men came out of the hangar and you got out of the car. Maverick gave you a look; not of pity, but of sympathy.

And then he pulled you into a hug.

You could tell he needed to say something.

"I can't always be your dad, but know that if you need, I'm right here."

Your eyes started to well up, and you hugged him a little tighter. "Thanks, Mav."

Once you pulled away, Bradley was by your side again, an arm wrapped around your waist.

"You know I love you. We all do. You've always got another family with us."

You craned your neck to smile at him.

"I love you too, and thanks for having my back."

He held you a little closer.

"Anytime, babe. I'm your wingman."

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

A Ghost From the Past (Part One)

Whumptober 2022: 8. Back from the Dead, 26. “Why did you save me?” Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader Word Count: 3337 TW: Angst, Whump, Injuries, Past Death, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Language

Part One, Part Two

As Rooster heads out to the tarmac for another day of training, he suddenly hears shouts of disbelief and calls for help. Picking up his pace, he reaches the door to the hanger just when Phoenix steps in front of him, blocking his path. Her face is drained of all color, and her breathing is ragged as she opens and closes her mouth, trying to find the words to speak.

Rooster gently places his hands on her shoulders, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Phoenix takes a deep breath before saying, “You need to stay here. Something’s happened but no one knows how and until they do, you need to stay out of the way.”

“Nat, what’s wrong? What happened?” Rooster repeats. Nothing ever shook Phoenix; she was one of the calmest, most adaptable pilots he knew. If she was this rattled, it must be something big.

Biting her lip nervously, Phoenix says, “I know it sounds impossible and if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. But someone just appeared on the tarmac.”

“What do you mean appeared? Like an unauthorized plane-”

“No,” Phoenix cuts him off. “I mean, one minute the tarmac was clear and the next she was lying in a heap on the ground. She just…. appeared.”

Rooster feels his blood run cold as he works up the courage to ask his next question. Because somehow, he knows. As impossible as it is, he already knows. “Who? Who appeared?”

With tears in her eyes, Phoenix whispers, “It’s Echo.”

Rooster stands with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at your sleeping form through the window of your examination room. You’re fast asleep, one leg thrown across the other as you lay on your side, your right arm curled under your pillow as your left arm reaches out in front of you. Towards the side of the bed Rooster usually laid.

He hears Phoenix approaching, but his eyes never leave you. Before she can say anything, Rooster bluntly states, “It’s not her. It can’t be her.”

Phoenix sighs. “I know. Yet based on all the tests they’ve run, it is her. Same blood type, same fingerprints, same retinal scan. From what they can tell, that is Echo.”

“It can’t be! She’s dead!” Rooster hisses as he jabs his finger at your sleeping body. “Two years ago, I held her in my arms as she struggled to take her final breath! Whoever that is, whatever that is, it can’t be her!”

Placing her hand gently on his shoulder, Phoenix says, “I remember. But I don’t know what else to say. It’s her, Rooster. I talked to her, and it was just like talking to Echo. She knows things that only Echo would know. However she got here, that woman in there is the one we lost. Believe me, I can’t begin to comprehend how this happened, but it did. And if that’s the case…. Maybe you got a second chance.”

“Fuck you!” Rooster rips his arm away from Phoenix’s grasp. “What? You really expect me to just accept this? To say screw how it happened and just buy into the idea that she’s back? This isn’t like she just disappeared or went MIA. We had a funeral. Her ashes are still in an urn at her mother’s house. I spent every day of the last two years forcing myself to leave her in the past and now, she’s just somehow back in the present? How am I supposed to buy that?”

“Listen, I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. She was my friend, and this is overwhelming. But for you….” Phoenix sighs. “She’s been asking to see you….. a lot. You’ve been cleared to talk to her but only if you feel up to it. No one expects you to do anything, but I think it would help if you spoke to her. Maybe it’ll convince you that this is what it seems. A miracle.”

She gives him a small smile before leaving him alone to think. Rooster stares at you once more. It doesn’t make any sense. It seems like something out of the fucking Twilight Zone. And yet… if there was a chance — even a fraction of a percent of a chance — that it was true and the woman asleep on that bed was you, how could he walk away without finding out the truth? 

Rooster quietly eases into the room, hoping to examine you closer before you wake up. Phoenix was right. You look exactly like the woman he said goodbye to two years ago. Every single detail was the same, down to the way you murmured softly in your sleep or the small scar on your finger from where you cut it while making him a surprise dinner for his birthday. He knows every inch of your body as well as he knowa his own, and everything is exactly as it should be, but he still can’t believe it is really you. 

Standing with his back against the wall across from the bed, he clears his throat. Slowly, your eyes flicker open and you roll over to see what woke you. The second your eyes meet his, both of you freeze. Your eyes…. There is no doubt that they’re your eyes; the ones that captivated him the night you met, the ones he stared deeply into as you made love, the ones he watched the light fade from as he held you–

Rooster’s eyes dart to the floor, unable to hold your gaze. Yet he hears you exclaim in breathy relief, “Rooster, thank God! I was getting so worried.”

You start to climb off the bed but he stiffens and shakes his head. Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, he sees you slowly lower yourself back down as your lip begins to tremble. “No, Roo…. Not you too. What’s going on? Why is everyone treating me like I have the fucking plague o-or I’ve grown a second head! A few hours ago, we were making out in front of the locker rooms, while Bagman and Phoenix teased us, and now…. You can’t even look at me!”

Rooster takes a deep breath and meets your gaze once again. Keeping his voice as steady and unemotional as possible, he says, “I need you to tell me what happened. How did you get here?”

“Wh-what do you mean ‘how did I get here’? I never left!” you cry out desperately. “I was on the tarmac heading to my plane for our next exercise when all of a sudden, I felt really dizzy and I guess I collapsed. The next thing I knew, I’m waking up on the ground and people were yelling and giving me these crazy looks. Then they rushed me in here and started doing all sorts of tests on me. But I told them I’m fine! It was probably just heat stroke or nerves or some shit. Now no one will tell me what’s going on or why they won’t let me leave this room. Why I couldn’t see you until now.”

Suddenly, you pause. Scooting to the end of the bed and leaning in closer, you say, “Roo, what happened? When did you get these scars?” You reach out to touch his face but Rooster jerks away just before your fingers brush his skin. 

You collapse back onto the bed once more. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? You seem too repulsed to even let me touch you, yet hours ago you…” The first tears begin to stream down your face and you cry, “I don’t know what’s happening! Everything’s slightly off and no one will tell me why. Like, those scars are old– old enough to have plenty of time to heal. Yet, they weren’t there this morning. And this is the same Top Gun from before but I don’t recognize half the staff or officers. Did I hit my head when I passed out on the tarmac? Did I lose time or am I forgetting things or-or….. I don’t know. But Roo, I’m scared, and I need you right now, so please… just, whatever it is, please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

It takes everything in him for Rooster not to give in, crawl onto the bed, and gather you into his arms. There was nothing he hated more in the world than seeing you cry, yet he still can’t buy into the idea that this was really you. If he allowed himself to believe that and it turned out this was all a lie or a trick…. He wouldn’t survive that. 

So, he remains with his back pressed firmly against the wall as he says, “We don’t know what happened or what’s going on. We don’t even know for sure who or what you are.”

You look as if he had just slapped you. “What I am? Rooster, what the hell does that mean?”

“The Top Gun cadet known as Echo died two years ago during a training exercise.” Your eyes grow wide and you shake your head but Rooster continues. “One of the fuel lines in her plane was damaged and her plane crashed.”

“Tha-that’s not possible,” you whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Rooster’s jaw tightens. “I was the first one to the wreckage. She wasn’t able to eject so I had to pull her out of what was left of her plane just for her to die in my arms minutes later. So don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“But it can’t be… I’m Echo. Just ask me anything. Something about my childhood? How I got the callsign Echo? The day we meet at the Naval Academy? Our first kiss? The first time you told me you loved me? I can tell you anything you want to know. Do you want to search my body for something out of place? Examine every last inch of me? It’s not anything you haven’t seen hundreds of times before. If what you are saying is true, I don’t know how it happened or how it’s even possible. But I do know who I am. I’m the same girl you fell in love with years ago. Who has loved you back for just as long. Who’s begging you to believe me now. I’m Echo.”

Rooster stares at you long and hard for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it can’t be true. You are not my Echo.” Pushing himself off the wall, he walks towards the door.

But just as he wraps his hand around the door handle, your voice calls out from behind him. “Do you remember our conversation right before we walked out onto the tarmac? Because I do. For me, it only happened a few hours ago, so I remember every word.”

Without turning around, Rooster says, “Don’t.”

“You pulled me aside and reminded me that you loved me and as soon as Top Gun was over, you wanted us to start looking for rings.”

“Stop it!”

“And I said that was the stupidest proposal I had ever heard, but nothing would make me happier. Then you kissed me-“

“I said stop!”

“- and told me you would spend the rest of our lives making up for it…. Starting with that night.”

“That’s enough!” Rooster roars as he whirls around to face you, though you didn’t as much as flinch. Your eyes stare unblinkingly into his even as he towers over you, glaring and panting heavily.

Softly, you whisper, “I guess we never got that night, did we?”

He stares at you for another minute before backing out of the room. Rooster never takes his eyes from your heartbroken face until he is out the door and it closes, giving him a barrier between you. Only then does he allow himself to collapse against the wall, breathing heavily as he tries to process what you just said. 

Rooster had never told anyone about the conversation he had with you just before he watched you climb into your plane for the last time. He had kept that moment, that promise buried deep down inside himself for the past two years, along with the dreams for the future that went with it. You had agreed to be his wife and when he watched you take your last breath, he hadn’t lost his girlfriend but his fiance. And no one knew. No one except you.

The next week is a whirlwind of activity. Not only is the team busy preparing for their upcoming mission, but they are also preoccupied with the mystery surrounding you. Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote had all been with you and Rooster at Top Gun when you died. Hangman had even been the one to find Rooster cradling your dead body next to the wreckage of your plane. They all quickly buy into the story that the woman who appeared on the tarmac was the same one they had lost two years ago, but Rooster still refuses to accept it. 

After a few days, the Navy reluctantly agrees to allow you back into a plane. After all, you had been the best of the best, practically guaranteed the top spot in your graduating class before your death. And with the mission coming up, they need someone with your talents. Seeing you in the sky erases any lingering doubt in people’s minds that this wasn’t the same Echo as before. The precision and skill are impeccable, with a flair only you can possess. Yet still, Rooster refuses to believe. 

So far, he has done his best to avoid you, but your paths have crossed more than a few times over the last week. At first, you try talking to him or get him to believe your story. But after a few days of him ignoring you, you gave up. Yet, seeing you interact with Phoenix, Hangman, and Coyote, laughing and joking as if nothing had ever happened, it is agony for Rooster. But it did make his resolve slip just a little. Could it be true? He still didn’t believe it was really you but what if….?

There is a long discussion on if you should be allowed on the mission or not. After all, you are still legally dead and are no longer active in the military. However, as you point out, that is why you are perfect for the mission: if you don’t make it back, then it’s like nothing changes. So, you are chosen to fly cover behind Dagger 1 – 4, to Rooster’s dismay. He is already nervous enough about this mission and having you along just makes it worse. 

However, the mission is completed perfectly. The squad manages to destroy the target just as instructed and they make it out of the valley safely. But the real trouble starts as soon as they fly out of Coffin Corner and into the path of the SAMs. Soon the sky is full of missiles and everyone is desperately trying to stay out of their way. 

Rooster shoots off round after round of flares until he presses the button and nothing happens. “Shit! I’m out of flares!” He tries a barrel roll and a few other evasive tactics but nothing is slowing the missiles on his tail. “I can’t shake ‘em, they’re on me!”

Suddenly, his coms come to life. “It’s okay, Roo. I’ll give them another target.”

Panic seizes his heart as he cries desperately, “What? No, Echo, don’t!”

But your reply is oddly calm and resigned. “It’s okay, Rooster. After all….I’m already dead.”

Before he can say anything else, he watches in horror as your plane explodes in a ball of flames. “NO!” 

But then Rooster notices a parachute open far below him. You got out this time! And as he turns his plane around, he swears to himself that he’s not going to lose you again.

Mav and the other Daggers all scream at him to continue on and head back to the ship, but he just turns the coms off. He doesn’t care what this will mean for him or his career. Right now, there is only one thing on his mind.

As soon as Rooster touches down, he is tearing through the woods screaming your name. He doesn’t think about the enemies in the area. All he cares about is finding you before it’s too late.

“Echo! Echo, where are you?” There is no response. Just the still quiet of the snowy forest. He screams again, “Goddamn it, Echo! Please! Answer me!”

“Rooster….” The sound is weak and pained, but it’s yours. 

Scrambling towards the direction of your voice, he finally spots you propped against a tree with one hand pressed to your stomach. He is by your side in seconds, carefully removing your helmet and holding your face in his hand. “Are you okay? Why the hell did you do that? After everything I put you through for this last week, you still risked your life to save mine. Why?”

“Because I love you, you idiot. I always have.” You smile at him but it quickly turns into a grimace of pain. 

“Here, let me see.” Rooster begins unzipping your flight suit and lifting up the shirt you are wearing underneath to examine the area under your hand.

You groan softly as he jostles you. “I don’t think there’s anything to see. A piece of debris hit me on the way down. I’m sure it’s just a bruise but it hurts like a motherfucker.”

Examining it, he can see you’re right. There might be some internal bleeding that he can’t detect, but there is nothing else he can do at the moment.

As he finishes rezipping your flight suit, you grab his wrist. With tears forming in the corner of your eyes, you say, “This is the first time you’ve touched me since I came back.”

Rooster nods, turning his hand so he can thread his fingers with yours. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was so afraid if I touched you, you’d disappear again.”

“I told you, Roo. It’s me. I swear. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He reaches down and cups your face in his hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your cheek. “I know it is, and I’m sorry I refused to see it before. I was so afraid of being hurt that I pushed you away. And because of that, I almost lost you for a second time. But never again. I swear.”

Bending over, he presses his lips against yours, and any last doubts he has about who you are fly from his head. Your lips mold perfectly against his just like always, and the kiss tastes undeniably like you. He tries to deepen the embrace, pulling you in closer, but the soft groan in your throat makes him pause. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away. “I’m sorry. I hope that didn’t hurt you.”

You smile at him. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you again since the moment you walked into my examination room a week ago. A little pain was worth it.”

He smiles back and places a soft kiss on the top of your head. Then he settles down next to you and gently eases you onto his lap so you aren’t sitting on the cold snow anymore. You rest your head against his chest as his arms envelop you, and he whispers into your ear, “I love you, Echo.”

He can hear the joy in your voice as you respond, “I love you too, Roo.”

Hangman finds you an hour later. The scene he stumbles onto is eerily similar to the one he witnessed two years ago with Rooster holding your limp body in his arms. But this time Rooster’s face isn’t streaked with tears and shattered into pieces. No, this time, he looks up at Hangman in relief and nods with a broad smile across his face. This time, you are still alive and this isn’t goodbye. 

Part 2 out now!

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[a-reader-and-a-writer]

A Ghost From the Past (Part One)

Whumptober 2022: 8. Back from the Dead, 26. “Why did you save me?” Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader Word Count: 3337 TW: Angst, Whump, Injuries, Past Death, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Language

Part One, Part Two

As Rooster heads out to the tarmac for another day of training, he suddenly hears shouts of disbelief and calls for help. Picking up his pace, he reaches the door to the hanger just when Phoenix steps in front of him, blocking his path. Her face is drained of all color, and her breathing is ragged as she opens and closes her mouth, trying to find the words to speak.

Rooster gently places his hands on her shoulders, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Phoenix takes a deep breath before saying, “You need to stay here. Something’s happened but no one knows how and until they do, you need to stay out of the way.”

“Nat, what’s wrong? What happened?” Rooster repeats. Nothing ever shook Phoenix; she was one of the calmest, most adaptable pilots he knew. If she was this rattled, it must be something big.

Biting her lip nervously, Phoenix says, “I know it sounds impossible and if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. But someone just appeared on the tarmac.”

“What do you mean appeared? Like an unauthorized plane-”

“No,” Phoenix cuts him off. “I mean, one minute the tarmac was clear and the next she was lying in a heap on the ground. She just…. appeared.”

Rooster feels his blood run cold as he works up the courage to ask his next question. Because somehow, he knows. As impossible as it is, he already knows. “Who? Who appeared?”

With tears in her eyes, Phoenix whispers, “It’s Echo.”

Rooster stands with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at your sleeping form through the window of your examination room. You’re fast asleep, one leg thrown across the other as you lay on your side, your right arm curled under your pillow as your left arm reaches out in front of you. Towards the side of the bed Rooster usually laid.

He hears Phoenix approaching, but his eyes never leave you. Before she can say anything, Rooster bluntly states, “It’s not her. It can’t be her.”

Phoenix sighs. “I know. Yet based on all the tests they’ve run, it is her. Same blood type, same fingerprints, same retinal scan. From what they can tell, that is Echo.”

“It can’t be! She’s dead!” Rooster hisses as he jabs his finger at your sleeping body. “Two years ago, I held her in my arms as she struggled to take her final breath! Whoever that is, whatever that is, it can’t be her!”

Placing her hand gently on his shoulder, Phoenix says, “I remember. But I don’t know what else to say. It’s her, Rooster. I talked to her, and it was just like talking to Echo. She knows things that only Echo would know. However she got here, that woman in there is the one we lost. Believe me, I can’t begin to comprehend how this happened, but it did. And if that’s the case…. Maybe you got a second chance.”

“Fuck you!” Rooster rips his arm away from Phoenix’s grasp. “What? You really expect me to just accept this? To say screw how it happened and just buy into the idea that she’s back? This isn’t like she just disappeared or went MIA. We had a funeral. Her ashes are still in an urn at her mother’s house. I spent every day of the last two years forcing myself to leave her in the past and now, she’s just somehow back in the present? How am I supposed to buy that?”

“Listen, I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. She was my friend, and this is overwhelming. But for you….” Phoenix sighs. “She’s been asking to see you….. a lot. You’ve been cleared to talk to her but only if you feel up to it. No one expects you to do anything, but I think it would help if you spoke to her. Maybe it’ll convince you that this is what it seems. A miracle.”

She gives him a small smile before leaving him alone to think. Rooster stares at you once more. It doesn’t make any sense. It seems like something out of the fucking Twilight Zone. And yet… if there was a chance — even a fraction of a percent of a chance — that it was true and the woman asleep on that bed was you, how could he walk away without finding out the truth? 

Rooster quietly eases into the room, hoping to examine you closer before you wake up. Phoenix was right. You look exactly like the woman he said goodbye to two years ago. Every single detail was the same, down to the way you murmured softly in your sleep or the small scar on your finger from where you cut it while making him a surprise dinner for his birthday. He knows every inch of your body as well as he knowa his own, and everything is exactly as it should be, but he still can’t believe it is really you. 

Standing with his back against the wall across from the bed, he clears his throat. Slowly, your eyes flicker open and you roll over to see what woke you. The second your eyes meet his, both of you freeze. Your eyes…. There is no doubt that they’re your eyes; the ones that captivated him the night you met, the ones he stared deeply into as you made love, the ones he watched the light fade from as he held you–

Rooster’s eyes dart to the floor, unable to hold your gaze. Yet he hears you exclaim in breathy relief, “Rooster, thank God! I was getting so worried.”

You start to climb off the bed but he stiffens and shakes his head. Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, he sees you slowly lower yourself back down as your lip begins to tremble. “No, Roo…. Not you too. What’s going on? Why is everyone treating me like I have the fucking plague o-or I’ve grown a second head! A few hours ago, we were making out in front of the locker rooms, while Bagman and Phoenix teased us, and now…. You can’t even look at me!”

Rooster takes a deep breath and meets your gaze once again. Keeping his voice as steady and unemotional as possible, he says, “I need you to tell me what happened. How did you get here?”

“Wh-what do you mean ‘how did I get here’? I never left!” you cry out desperately. “I was on the tarmac heading to my plane for our next exercise when all of a sudden, I felt really dizzy and I guess I collapsed. The next thing I knew, I’m waking up on the ground and people were yelling and giving me these crazy looks. Then they rushed me in here and started doing all sorts of tests on me. But I told them I’m fine! It was probably just heat stroke or nerves or some shit. Now no one will tell me what’s going on or why they won’t let me leave this room. Why I couldn’t see you until now.”

Suddenly, you pause. Scooting to the end of the bed and leaning in closer, you say, “Roo, what happened? When did you get these scars?” You reach out to touch his face but Rooster jerks away just before your fingers brush his skin. 

You collapse back onto the bed once more. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? You seem too repulsed to even let me touch you, yet hours ago you…” The first tears begin to stream down your face and you cry, “I don’t know what’s happening! Everything’s slightly off and no one will tell me why. Like, those scars are old– old enough to have plenty of time to heal. Yet, they weren’t there this morning. And this is the same Top Gun from before but I don’t recognize half the staff or officers. Did I hit my head when I passed out on the tarmac? Did I lose time or am I forgetting things or-or….. I don’t know. But Roo, I’m scared, and I need you right now, so please… just, whatever it is, please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

It takes everything in him for Rooster not to give in, crawl onto the bed, and gather you into his arms. There was nothing he hated more in the world than seeing you cry, yet he still can’t buy into the idea that this was really you. If he allowed himself to believe that and it turned out this was all a lie or a trick…. He wouldn’t survive that. 

So, he remains with his back pressed firmly against the wall as he says, “We don’t know what happened or what’s going on. We don’t even know for sure who or what you are.”

You look as if he had just slapped you. “What I am? Rooster, what the hell does that mean?”

“The Top Gun cadet known as Echo died two years ago during a training exercise.” Your eyes grow wide and you shake your head but Rooster continues. “One of the fuel lines in her plane was damaged and her plane crashed.”

“Tha-that’s not possible,” you whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Rooster’s jaw tightens. “I was the first one to the wreckage. She wasn’t able to eject so I had to pull her out of what was left of her plane just for her to die in my arms minutes later. So don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“But it can’t be… I’m Echo. Just ask me anything. Something about my childhood? How I got the callsign Echo? The day we meet at the Naval Academy? Our first kiss? The first time you told me you loved me? I can tell you anything you want to know. Do you want to search my body for something out of place? Examine every last inch of me? It’s not anything you haven’t seen hundreds of times before. If what you are saying is true, I don’t know how it happened or how it’s even possible. But I do know who I am. I’m the same girl you fell in love with years ago. Who has loved you back for just as long. Who’s begging you to believe me now. I’m Echo.”

Rooster stares at you long and hard for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it can’t be true. You are not my Echo.” Pushing himself off the wall, he walks towards the door.

But just as he wraps his hand around the door handle, your voice calls out from behind him. “Do you remember our conversation right before we walked out onto the tarmac? Because I do. For me, it only happened a few hours ago, so I remember every word.”

Without turning around, Rooster says, “Don’t.”

“You pulled me aside and reminded me that you loved me and as soon as Top Gun was over, you wanted us to start looking for rings.”

“Stop it!”

“And I said that was the stupidest proposal I had ever heard, but nothing would make me happier. Then you kissed me-“

“I said stop!”

“- and told me you would spend the rest of our lives making up for it…. Starting with that night.”

“That’s enough!” Rooster roars as he whirls around to face you, though you didn’t as much as flinch. Your eyes stare unblinkingly into his even as he towers over you, glaring and panting heavily.

Softly, you whisper, “I guess we never got that night, did we?”

He stares at you for another minute before backing out of the room. Rooster never takes his eyes from your heartbroken face until he is out the door and it closes, giving him a barrier between you. Only then does he allow himself to collapse against the wall, breathing heavily as he tries to process what you just said. 

Rooster had never told anyone about the conversation he had with you just before he watched you climb into your plane for the last time. He had kept that moment, that promise buried deep down inside himself for the past two years, along with the dreams for the future that went with it. You had agreed to be his wife and when he watched you take your last breath, he hadn’t lost his girlfriend but his fiance. And no one knew. No one except you.

The next week is a whirlwind of activity. Not only is the team busy preparing for their upcoming mission, but they are also preoccupied with the mystery surrounding you. Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote had all been with you and Rooster at Top Gun when you died. Hangman had even been the one to find Rooster cradling your dead body next to the wreckage of your plane. They all quickly buy into the story that the woman who appeared on the tarmac was the same one they had lost two years ago, but Rooster still refuses to accept it. 

After a few days, the Navy reluctantly agrees to allow you back into a plane. After all, you had been the best of the best, practically guaranteed the top spot in your graduating class before your death. And with the mission coming up, they need someone with your talents. Seeing you in the sky erases any lingering doubt in people’s minds that this wasn’t the same Echo as before. The precision and skill are impeccable, with a flair only you can possess. Yet still, Rooster refuses to believe. 

So far, he has done his best to avoid you, but your paths have crossed more than a few times over the last week. At first, you try talking to him or get him to believe your story. But after a few days of him ignoring you, you gave up. Yet, seeing you interact with Phoenix, Hangman, and Coyote, laughing and joking as if nothing had ever happened, it is agony for Rooster. But it did make his resolve slip just a little. Could it be true? He still didn’t believe it was really you but what if….?

There is a long discussion on if you should be allowed on the mission or not. After all, you are still legally dead and are no longer active in the military. However, as you point out, that is why you are perfect for the mission: if you don’t make it back, then it’s like nothing changes. So, you are chosen to fly cover behind Dagger 1 – 4, to Rooster’s dismay. He is already nervous enough about this mission and having you along just makes it worse. 

However, the mission is completed perfectly. The squad manages to destroy the target just as instructed and they make it out of the valley safely. But the real trouble starts as soon as they fly out of Coffin Corner and into the path of the SAMs. Soon the sky is full of missiles and everyone is desperately trying to stay out of their way. 

Rooster shoots off round after round of flares until he presses the button and nothing happens. “Shit! I’m out of flares!” He tries a barrel roll and a few other evasive tactics but nothing is slowing the missiles on his tail. “I can’t shake ‘em, they’re on me!”

Suddenly, his coms come to life. “It’s okay, Roo. I’ll give them another target.”

Panic seizes his heart as he cries desperately, “What? No, Echo, don’t!”

But your reply is oddly calm and resigned. “It’s okay, Rooster. After all….I’m already dead.”

Before he can say anything else, he watches in horror as your plane explodes in a ball of flames. “NO!” 

But then Rooster notices a parachute open far below him. You got out this time! And as he turns his plane around, he swears to himself that he’s not going to lose you again.

Mav and the other Daggers all scream at him to continue on and head back to the ship, but he just turns the coms off. He doesn’t care what this will mean for him or his career. Right now, there is only one thing on his mind.

As soon as Rooster touches down, he is tearing through the woods screaming your name. He doesn’t think about the enemies in the area. All he cares about is finding you before it’s too late.

“Echo! Echo, where are you?” There is no response. Just the still quiet of the snowy forest. He screams again, “Goddamn it, Echo! Please! Answer me!”

“Rooster….” The sound is weak and pained, but it’s yours. 

Scrambling towards the direction of your voice, he finally spots you propped against a tree with one hand pressed to your stomach. He is by your side in seconds, carefully removing your helmet and holding your face in his hand. “Are you okay? Why the hell did you do that? After everything I put you through for this last week, you still risked your life to save mine. Why?”

“Because I love you, you idiot. I always have.” You smile at him but it quickly turns into a grimace of pain. 

“Here, let me see.” Rooster begins unzipping your flight suit and lifting up the shirt you are wearing underneath to examine the area under your hand.

You groan softly as he jostles you. “I don’t think there’s anything to see. A piece of debris hit me on the way down. I’m sure it’s just a bruise but it hurts like a motherfucker.”

Examining it, he can see you’re right. There might be some internal bleeding that he can’t detect, but there is nothing else he can do at the moment.

As he finishes rezipping your flight suit, you grab his wrist. With tears forming in the corner of your eyes, you say, “This is the first time you’ve touched me since I came back.”

Rooster nods, turning his hand so he can thread his fingers with yours. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was so afraid if I touched you, you’d disappear again.”

“I told you, Roo. It’s me. I swear. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He reaches down and cups your face in his hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your cheek. “I know it is, and I’m sorry I refused to see it before. I was so afraid of being hurt that I pushed you away. And because of that, I almost lost you for a second time. But never again. I swear.”

Bending over, he presses his lips against yours, and any last doubts he has about who you are fly from his head. Your lips mold perfectly against his just like always, and the kiss tastes undeniably like you. He tries to deepen the embrace, pulling you in closer, but the soft groan in your throat makes him pause. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away. “I’m sorry. I hope that didn’t hurt you.”

You smile at him. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you again since the moment you walked into my examination room a week ago. A little pain was worth it.”

He smiles back and places a soft kiss on the top of your head. Then he settles down next to you and gently eases you onto his lap so you aren’t sitting on the cold snow anymore. You rest your head against his chest as his arms envelop you, and he whispers into your ear, “I love you, Echo.”

He can hear the joy in your voice as you respond, “I love you too, Roo.”

Hangman finds you an hour later. The scene he stumbles onto is eerily similar to the one he witnessed two years ago with Rooster holding your limp body in his arms. But this time Rooster’s face isn’t streaked with tears and shattered into pieces. No, this time, he looks up at Hangman in relief and nods with a broad smile across his face. This time, you are still alive and this isn’t goodbye. 

Part 2 out now!

Taglist:@loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever,@11thstreetvigilante,@the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fangirlinc, @sparrows-corner, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @maggie8002sq, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35

[phantomtgm]

Phantom - Chapter Sixteen

Phantom’s P.O.V

Walking out of the locker room and into the hangar, I passed by Maverick who gave me that look and I couldn’t help myself but to smile back. I felt giddy as I walked towards my plane and apparently it caught a few people’s attention. 

“What are you so happy about?” Rooster’s voice sounded through my right ear. I turned towards him, glad I had sunglasses on and just said “It’s just a good day to fly, that’s all.” Rooster crossed his arms and proceeded to say “Really? You aren’t nervous about this mission at all?”

Not expecting that question, I just said “Yeah I am.” Relieved that he wasn’t about to say something about Maverick, I relaxed my shoulders. Rooster gave me an odd look but didn’t say anything more so I pointed at the jet. “Shall we?” I attempted a smirk but Rooster obviously didn’t buy my excuse but what else was I supposed to do when I was about to climb into an F-18?

-

Sitting in the room with Rooster and Hangman was not my first choice to be waiting with, perhaps not Rooster but Hangman…yeah no. I’d rather stick my head in a toilet.

“What’s wrong Pha-” Hangman’s voice got caught off by Maverick coming through the radio sounding cocky as ever and I bit my lip in an attempt to not laugh. 

“Blue team, that’s a fail. Level out, coyote.” 

The interruption did not stop Hangman from yapping his fat lip. “There he is. The man of Phant-”

“Shhh!” I cut him off as soon as Maverick’s voice wavered which apparently didn’t concern Hangman. 

 “Coyote? Do you copy?” Silence. Coyote didn’t respond so I moved to the window to see if I could see them out there but they were too far out to see from base.

“Coyote, come in. Coyote, level wings.” Another strained pause then finally, Maverick, whom I have never seen or heard panic, panicked.

“Oh, god. He’s in g-loc!” Looking over at Rooster and Hangman, Hangman finally looked concerned enough to hover directly over the radio, causing me to roll my eyes. Voice bursting through the static of the radio, Maverick called out for Coyote once more.

“Coyote’s going to slam right into the mountain side if Mav doesn’t stop him.” Rooster’s voice broke through the chaotic mess. “How is Maverick  going to save him? The kid is going to crash and burn.” At that comment, I turned my head and glared at him. 

“What a shitty thing to say…” I said, shaking from all of the adrenaline running through my body. There was no way Maverick would let Coyote just die like that, he just couldn’t. 

“Coyote? Coyote?” Another silence filled gap then finally Maverick yelled “He’s gonna burn in! I’m going after him.”

“This is so not going to end well.” Hangman snidely commented, earning another glare from me. He is such an idiot. I don’t even know how he even got accepted into the Navy. 

I walked away from the window, listening to Maverick’s heavy breathing. “Come on. Give me tone, give me tone, give me tone.” The target lock tone came blaring through the radio, making me cover my ears. It usually didn’t bother me but that was because I normally was wearing a helmet but standing in front of a radio…well it was a bit loud.

“Snap out of it, coyote. Come on! Come on!” The high G’s that were being pulled sure as hell knocked Coyote right the fuck out which made me realize how dangerous this mission really was.

“Come on, Coyote, come on. Come on! Damn it! Coyote! Coyote!” 

Suddenly the automated voice that told you to pull up came through the radio. That meant he was nosediving towards the ground which wasn’t good at all. Goosebumps appeared all over my skin. This wasn’t going to end well. Turning away from the radio, I rubbed my face, hoping that it wouldn’t end badly but it didn’t look that way.

Pull up!

“Coyote! Coyote!”

Pull up! Pull up!

Suddenly the radio went dead silent and I looked at Rooster and Hangman who had a freaked out look on their faces. I swallowed and did the only thing I could do.

A moment passed in silence then Maverick’s voice came through once more.

“Coyote, you okay? You okay?” 

“I’m okay. I’m good.” Coyote finally spoke, and relief flooded through my bones. I don’t know what I would do if I lost a wingman. The relief I was feeling was nothing compared to the relief in Maverick’s voice when he spoke next.

“Good. Good. That’s enough for today.”

“That was close.” I tuned out once I knew everything was okay after hearing Phoenix speak. My heart was pounding and I wasn’t even the one in the air. So without even waiting to hear them say they were headed back to base, I abruptly left the room, leaving Hangman and Rooster to ponder. 

-

I stood in front of the mirror, splashing cold water all over my face. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. For whatever reason, I had this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t shake it. 

“Come on Kazansky, get it together.” I whispered to myself. Smoothing my hair down, I turned and walked out of the bathroom, intending to go find Coyote but as I approached the classroom door, I overheard Maverick speaking,

“They’ll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They’re gonna be okay.” I furrowed my brow. Why would they keep Phoenix and Bob overnight?

“That’s good.” Rooster’s voice came through and I took a step back, a bit surprised at the sadness in his tone.

“I’ve never lost a wing man.”

“You’re lucky. Fly long enough, it’ll happen. There will be others.” Maverick himself seemed a bit vulnerable and I wanted to run in there and figure out what was wrong but instead I stayed behind the door.

“Easy for you to say. No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.” The pure resentment and anger coming from Rooster rattled me. Where was this coming from? 

Silence passed before anyone had spoken again. 

“Go home. Just get some sleep.” A chair scraped then came the outburst.

“Why’d you pull my papers at the academy? Why did you stand in my way?” Rooster seethed and I could just imagine the look on his face. Suddenly, I realized what this was about. 

“You weren’t ready.” Maverick said bluntly but I knew this entire conversation was about how Maverick pulled his papers. I knew why but it wasn’t my place to say anything. If I were to be honest, I understood Rooster’s anger but I also understood Maverick’s reasons behind pulling his papers. 

Goose.

I laid my head against the wall as Rooster continued to shout at Maverick. I could tell with what Rooster was saying that it had shook him up. Footsteps coming from my left brought me out of whatever daze I was in and I stood up straight to get the hell out of here. I didn’t want to be caught listening to their private conversation but Warlock called out my name. 

“Ava, wait.” I immediately stopped where I was, not used to a rear Admiral calling me by my first name. 

I slowly turned around, fully prepared to explain why I was lurking behind the door but the look on Warlock’s face looked dire so I walked towards him. He pointed to walk into the classroom and I cringed but complied. 

Maverick’s mouth dropped open as well as Rooster but before they could talk, Warlock spoke once more, this time to Maverick. 

“Maverick. I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Iceman….passed away this afternoon.” I blinked, not fully realizing what he just said. Maverick stepped forward and reached out with his hand as my heart began to beat rapidly and my chest constricted in on itself. Tears built up behind my eyes and I clenched my fist, not being able to contain myself.

“Ava-” Maverick attempted to talk to me but I interrupted him. “I can’t, I uh-u I gotta go!” Tears spilling over, I looked at Maverick then at Rooster. My eyes met Maverick’s once more and I could see the pain in his face but what was worse was that he only seemed concerned about me and not my father, his best friend. 

Running out of the classroom and down the hall, I heard footsteps running after me but I couldn’t talk right now. I needed to go. Go to my mom. Heck, I should have been there today! I was so stupid! My chest was starting to cave in on itself and all I wanted to do was roll into the fetal position. 

“Ava!” Maverick calling my name was the last thing I heard before I got into my car and drove away from base.

Reckless driving was my least concern.

-

Hey everybody! I'm sorry it took so long to get an update out! I've been pretty busy and had a bit of writer's block but I'm back now and I hope you enjoy the update! I'm also working on fixing the masterlist link FYI! Thank you for reading!

[ladyelissarose]

‘A Heart With Wings’

Warnings: this is a LONG chapter, but please enjoy, nothing to serious happens.. yet.

Chapter 8

The Aviators POV

 Close family members of the Aviators were all there at the boarding dock, waiting for their sailors to bid them goodbye. It had taken them 4 hours to get to the Abraham Lincoln, the aircraft carrier they were going to be on for about 5 months, if not longer. Soon they all got off the van in their tidy khaki uniforms and saw their families all waving at them happily, shouting and calling their names. Bob right away ran to his family, his grandma, sister, and father had shown up with a large cutout poster with his callsign on it. Phoenix ran to her younger two sisters, mother and father, and she embraced them all tightly once she had reached them. Rooster and Maverick went with Penny, as they hugged all together and reassured her that they’d be just fine. Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback also we’re with heir families, that included their favorite uncles and aunts, their parents and siblings too. They all were very happy while some did shed some tears, (Fanboy and Bob did, but they made sure to tell their entire dagger team to not ever bring it up.) But other than that, it was all a sad but beautiful moment for most of them.

 Oceans POV

  Oceans watched as the other Naval Sailors which were plenty, had arrived as well, and had gone with their families too. It kinda pinched Oceans heart to see her standing by herself, with no one to run to, to hug and say goodbye, but, but to get herself out of a sticky situation of family issues, she was going to hide herself away near the van for a while. Until things settled down and it was time to actually board the ship. As she arrived she heard a small sniffle and something being tossed harshly, she poked her head through the door of the van to see who it came from, and she could only see someone crouched down in their seat, at the back of the van. Slowly Oceans began to take steps towards the person, and almost stepped on a phone that had been tossed,  she picked it up carefully, and the screen turned on, showings it’s wallpaper, the Texan Longhorns Logo, she then immediately knew who’s it was,

  ‘This is Jake’s phone.. meaning.. wait- is that Jake... crying?’

 Oceans didn’t step any closer, and only called out softly,

  “Jake?”

Because of the few feet of distance that Oceans stood away from Jake, she barely caught his small gasp, a gasp that came out because he realized he had been caught, she then heard him tell her,

  “Is that you Phoenix?”

 Oceans let out a sigh before speaking more out loud,

  “No, it’s me.. Constantine. Are you ok?”

Hangman’s POV 

  ‘Oceans? How’d you know I was here?’

 Hangman lifted his head to only where his eyes poked out from above the seat in front of him, as he asked,

  “How’d you know I was here?”

 Hangman watched Oceans as she sat in one of the seats, that were a couple away from him, she rested her legs on the seat and laid her back against the side where the window was at, as she replied simply,

  “I.. I didn’t know you were here.. I had come here to be alone for a moment.”

 ‘Oh.. why would you though? Did your parents not show up for you too?’

  Hangman only chucked lowly to himself as he questioned,

  “Did your parents not show up or something? You know.. to not say goodbye and all?”

 Oceans then sat forward as she came into his view and looked for his face as she replied,

  “I’m assuming your asking me that question with specifics.. because that happened to you. But, no... that didn’t happen to me.. I don’t have parents, to show up for me. So.. I guess we both got it bad.”

  Hangman sat up as he took in her words,

  ‘Oh damn.. that’s gotta be terrible.’

  He then decided to get up, and walk towards Oceans, hence taking the seat next to her, but faced her as their legs faced each other, and their feet almost touched too. He then looked up at her, and saw her looking down at his phone that he had tossed, as she held it carefully in her hands, he then explained to her why he had tossed it,

  “My dad called me... and explained to me, how he ‘supposedly’ forgot I was leaving today to go overseas.. which is why he is no where near California, and is in Italy with my mother and older brother instead. I gave them the money to come, everything.. I paid everything... but they traded the tickets to California for tickets to Italy. I got so pissed off for being played.. and I tossed my phone after I hung up... but, after all of that sharing, I gotta say, I can only think your situation is worse than mine, huh?”

  Oceans shook her head no, but still kept her gaze on her hands, saying, 

  “I wouldn’t say worse.. I shouldn’t compare my pain to yours just cause their different. It’s kinda like drowning.”

  Hangman raised a brow at that, and could only thrive to hear more,

  “What do you mean?”

 Oceans took a quick glance at him then looked down, but Hangman wanted to see her, so he worded his thoughts as best he could, without sounding like a cocky person, he just wanted to sound like himself.

  “I like to see the person I’m talking to... it- it uh.. helps me not be so nervous too.”

 Hangman gnawed the inside of his cheeks nervously as he awaited for Oceans response to his comment, which came quickly when she locked her hazel eyes with his green ones, and went on to explain what she had said moments earlier,

  “Well Hangman.. lets say you and I are both drowning.. in a sea of sadness. For different reasons we’re there, but what doesn’t change is that we’re in the exact same place. Now, let’s say I’m six feet beneath the surface and your 12 feet beneath, or it’s the other way around. Again, No matter how deep we are, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re both still drowning, and that we need to get to the surface to breathe, and it’s up to us, if we’re willing to get there or not. If I’m 12 feet under, I’m going to try to swim up and get out of there, but if I see you along the way, I’m going to take time out of my life to try and save you, and pull you up with me. If you don’t want to come along, I’ll have to let you go... because you’re not ready to go the places that I’m going to, and I can’t wait until you’re ready, cause then I’ll drown, cause I was already ready to go. Now, if I’m 6 feet under, and I see you 6 feet away from me, hence making you 12 feet away from the surface... and if I believe that I have enough strength to endure your pain to go down with you, and then pull you up, I’ll go. And if you want to come with me, we’ll pull each other out of there, I’ll go the distance to save you if you want to be saved, but if you want to stay that deep, even after I risked my life to come after you... I’ll have to let you go then too, if not.. I’ll drown in mine and your sorrow, because I went deeper than I already was. At the end of the day Jake... we both come to the same place today for different reasons... but it’s up to us, if we’re willing to climb out of it, whether we make it out alone or not.”

  Hangman sat back and sighed, like if someone had taken off a blindfold and replaced it with a clear eyesight and new perspective, he had never seen life as Oceans did, her words only made him crave more of her knowledge and thrived to know more about her life. And Oceans spoke about it so smoothly, like if she had been waiting all her life, to relate her thoughts and feelings to someone like her. He even felt his heart shoot a little spark when she called him ‘Jake’, it sounded so beautiful coming out of her lips, even when it was effortless. Hangman then collected his thoughts and could only let out a soft sigh through his nose, before replying,

  “You’re definitely not the person I thought you were.”

  Oceans sent him a small lift to her pink lips as she spoke,

  “We learn new thing everyday don’t we?”

 Hangman took his phone from Oceans when she handed to him as he chuckled,

  “We sure do... I still want to know one thing about you though..”

  Oceans looked curious as she asked,

  “Oh yeah.. what’s that?”

 “Where the hell did you learn how to fly like you do? I’ve kept track of your flight tests and maneuvers, and it’s almost too perfect to be true.. too good to be just a mechanic at the end of the day. Why not be something better... like TopGun?”

  Hangman noticed when she went a little stiff, and he quickly apologized,

  “I’m sorry if it’s a sensitive subject-“

 Oceans shook her head no correcting him,

  “No no.. don’t be sorry.. It shouldn’t be a sensitive subject anymore... but I still haven’t learned how to cross that barrier while trying to reach the surface.”

  Hangman reached over and squeezed her shoulder before calling her attention to look at him,

  “Listen Oceans... I’m not the person you think I am either... I was broken when I met you, and and was made to believe that you were a part of it, which is why I sought to hurt you too... but I promise, that I won’t ever do that again, it’s not who I am. Maybe I’m a little cocky-“

  Oceans stifled a laugh as she questioned,

  “A little?”

 Hangman nudged her shoulder playfully before admitting,

  “Ok maybe quite a bit... but other than that... I want to believe I’m alright.”

 Oceans couldn’t help but smile as she confirmed,

  “You’re pretty alright.. if not better than that. I’ve seen you, how you treat the others, you disguise your sweet actions with a colicky attitude so no one can take you like a softy. But you’re actually a really sweet and great guy... with a big ass ego.”

  Hangman leaned back as he began to laugh a little loud, he loved the way Oceans could put in words that were sweet but still a little roasty. He was also surprised to see how he had a secret admirer, Oceans had been watching him the whole time, and she was able to see the real him when he thought she wasn’t looking. He too had been watching Oceans from a distance, and saw how she was genuinely a great person too, 

  “You’re not that bad either... you help everyone.. and you have a giving heart. You do your work quite perfectly... but you do happen to get jump scared at everything.”

  Oceans covered her face pretending to be embarrassed as she chucked,

  “I don’t know what it is... i guess it’s from when I was little.. I’ve always been scared of Ghosts and shit... my Dad used to call me Ghosty.. because of that.”

  “Ha! Ghosty.. that’s a cute name.”

 Oceans glared at him,

  “You better not start calling me Ghosty-“

  “Ghosty.”

 “Jake-“

 “Ghosty... I really like the sound of it-“

  “You’re annoying-“

  “And you’re a pain in the ass Ghosty.”

 Oceans gasped as she stood up and looked down at Hangman,

  “And why in the world am I a pain in the ass?”

 Hangman huffed as he stood up,

  “You think all those silly pranks of yours towards me and the others wouldn’t be tracked by me and connected to you?”

 Her faced slightly dropped for being caught, but she quickly replaced it with a smirk as she put forth,

  “But they were good huh? Especially when we replaced your hair gel with clear jello?”

  He only rolled his eyes as he admitted,

  “I couldn’t get the sticky and sweet smell out of it for like 3 days!”

  “No way!”

 “Yes way!! But believe me Ghosty... I’m going to get you back soon.”

  “Oh yeah?-“

 “I’ll prank both your asses if you don’t get outside and get in line! We’ve rang the bell already! Twice!!”

  Hangman caught Oceans jumping at the sudden arrival and shout from Cyclone, as he stood at the entrance of the van, ordering for them to come out, he couldn’t help but try to keep his laugh in. But then Cyclone threatened,

  “If you don’t make it in line by the time I count to 3, I’m making you both drop and do 50 before we board-“

  “Hell no I’m not getting dropped-“

 “Same here sir.”

 Aviators POV

  Hangman stood next to Oceans as the rest stood in line with them, he subtly patted her lower back, to try and comfort her, which helped, because she returned the gesture, he then smiled to himself. Soon after their formal dismissal routine, they all began to walk onto the ship, and get into their places, as the ship soon began its journey towards the Atlantic. 

 January 23

 Oceans POV

 After being in the ship for a few days, Oceans began to see the pressure the Aviators around her felt, they looked more quiet and serious, even Jake was more silent than usual. Half the time they were in the skies, always practicing maneuvers and trying to meet the military’s requirements. Oceans could only believe that the measures for this combat mission they were soon going on was going to be bigger than ever, and as far as she heard, it was going to be in just 4 days. She had tried to communicate and loosen them up, but they only took it for the moment and went back to the same place, pure worry. Oceans though understood how they felt, it was real stuff, real flying combat, it can go right or really wrong, they may all make it back, or one man can go missing, if not all, she had lost someone due to such, she understood the pain and weight, the fear of waiting for the unknown to happen, no matter how it came. Earlier that day actually she had tried to team up with her usual best buddies, Bob and Phoenix, but they sheltered themselves and offered for a ‘next time’. She tried to approach Rooster and he said he was going to be busy with Maverick, so to try her 3 musketeers (Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote) but she was also met with their absence when they told her they had drills to run. And lastly she only had Hangman left, though things seemed better among the two, there was still that little pinch of fear of maybe not fitting in still. So Oceans decided to forget Hangman and work on the jets that she had in her schedule for that day. Hondo was with her as they both worked on a specific F-18, with it’s stubborn wires and screws. Hondo had Oceans nearly inside the motor as she checked around for anything out of place. She had become good friends with Hondo too, they worked quite well together as they spent most of the time on the open deck with the jets. So she was pretty open with him when it came to having conversations and such, like today when she asked,

  “Have you ever seen the Dagger Squad this intense? Even Maverick who’s not afraid of anything?”

 Though Oceans had her head in deep into the motor, she could still hear the ocean that swayed near by, hitting against the ships walls, and above that she heard Hondo’s response,

  “No.. I’ve never seen them like this.. and not even Maverick. Last time, he was more calm and confident, worried but confident.. and this time.. something seems off.”

  Oceans then held the screwdriver in her mouth as her both hands tried to untangle the wires, but she nonetheless responded with a muffle to her voice, it sounded almost incoherent, but Hondo was smart enough to connect the dots,

  “So ‘ave you ‘eard about anythin’ for thi’ mission? Deth-ails?”

  Hondo sighed,

  “Details? No.. I haven’t gone any yet.. they’re supposed to be putting the team together tonight, picking who’s actually going to the mission and who’s leading it.”

  “-o -ay!!”

 Hondo lightly chuckled at how Oceans tried to talk with a screwdriver in her mouth, as he replied,

  “Yup.. no way.”

 Later that evening, Hondo was called inside to be with the aviators as Cyclone, Warlock and Maverick picked the Dagger team with their leader, leaving Oceans on her own outside to finish up the work. The cool breeze cooled the hot feeling she felt in her chest and head, Oceans was more than worried for her friends, and wished that she had stayed in Top Gun, though she believed that her being there wouldn’t make such a difference, but at least having an extra hand would be nice. Regret and memories began to flood her head again, as the reality of it all sank into her heart, she thought back to the last words her brother told her, before Heaven claimed his soul to fly higher than he had ever had as a Naval Aviator.

    ‘Hi sis!! Listen kiddo, this is going to be the first and last message you’ll be hearing from me in a jet.. I’m sorry this is how it’s gotta end, but when life calls its end it calls. Hey, but listen to me-‘

 Oceans mind was so flooded with her own thoughts once again, that when she tried to walk on the wing to get off, she had missed her step and slipped, hence making her hit the back of her head against the metal wing and completely slipping off of it falling to the ground on her stomach. She groaned in slight pain as she rolled into her back and was met with the dark sky above, with the stars that began to shine above her. Oceans focused on them with awe, as she connected them and found a couple of constellations, beginning to feel like a little kid again, remembering the time when she was in between her dad and older brother laying on the grass in their backyard, looking at the stars. It was such a beautiful moment, feeling Mother Nature embrace you with its creation teaching you valuable lessons, for an example the stars, we can learn from them. We can learn that even when surrounded by compete darkness, we too can still shine, and not let darkness consume us. Oceans had forgotten that lesson, when she let the darkness of her past and sadness that came with it, consume her and her shine, consuming who she really was. Oceans had allowed it to take who she was, toss it away, and make her become someone she wasn’t made to be. Soon Oceans got up and touched the back of her head, a little dried blood was seen on her fingertips that had touched the injured part, but she ignored it as she stood up and picked up her things to go inside. The pounding in her head was subtle and her back ached a little too, but she knew she’d be better by the morning, after a coupe of pain killer pills for sure. When Oceans had picked up responsibly, she started to walk towards the metal, heavy door that led her inside, but when she got pretty close to it, it abruptly and suddenly swung open, which hit against her and sent her flying a couple of feet away from it, making her hit her head and back in the process once again. Sense it was a pretty painful hit, Oceans felt a new wave of ache come her way, but it was all forgotten when she heard the sounds of someone hollering out their lunch while standing over the railing with their back hunched over it. She turned her head quickly, while ignoring the way it screamed in pain, as she tried to take in who it was, though her vision was slightly blurry, a familiar head of blond hair wasn’t easy to miss, her mind right away clicked,

  ‘Hangman?’

 Oceans stumbled to her feet then approached him quickly, she got behind him as she made her presence known while comforting him and rubbing his back,

  “Hey hey it’s ok. You’re ok. It’s me Oceans.”

 Hangman went a little stiff when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sucked in a deep breath before choking his words out with worry in them,

  “They picked me.”

 Oceans went still from rubbing his back as she asked him curiously,

  “You mean they picked you for the Dagger Team to go on the mission?”

 He shook his head no as he backed up from the rail and Oceans dropped her hands off of him, he then faced her with his eyes blown red, hands lightly shaking, and even his lips looked like they were quivering. But he first took a look at Oceans red forehead and asked,

  “What happened to you?-“

 “I ran into the metal door.”

 He scrunched his nose adorably at her answer, but he asked,

  “Oh. Are you alright?”

 She shook her head yes,

  “Yeah, I’m as alright as I can be, thanks for your concern... now tell me what’s going on?”

  Hangman took one more close glance at her face before looking down at his hands as he said,

  “So Oceans, it’s worse than that.. They picked me for Team Leader.”

 Oceans eyes went wide at his response, she didn’t expect that,

  “But.. didn’t you always want to be Team Leader-“

  “Yeah but the weight that comes with that is something I’ve never experienced before... I’m responsible for the entire mission.. and every. single. life... that’s going to carry it on along with me. I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.. but it’s kinda scary as hell.. this.. this all really scares me.”

  Oceans felt for him deeply, she could relate to where he was going with this as he added,

  “I can’t imagine my life without any of them... and if they don’t come home because of this mission, it will be because it’s my fault for not leading them right. And knowing that I have to carry that weight of guilt on me for the rest of my life... damn it’s something I thought I had prepared to carry.. but now that’s it here.. I’m not sure if I’m ready to take a loss and move on if the worse happens.”

  Oceans wiped the corner of his mouth that had left a bit of a drool, as she replied honestly,

  “I know how you feel about this Hangman.. and it’s not easy-“

 Hangman scoffed lightly as he looked up to the stars for a second then back at her, he let out a smile that symbolized his mere confusion as he said,

  “And how would you know how I feel? About loss because of a mission that you led and someone didn’t come back from it- or or.. you know, the weight you feel of not knowing what could happen, fearing the unexpected and unknown.. you wouldn’t know nothing about this Oceans.. I appreciate you trying to sympathize with me.. but don’t lie about it.. be real.”

  Hangman then patted her shoulder and passed by her to walk away, but she called out to him as she began to say,  

  “I wish I wasn’t being real.. I wish it was all fake, I wish that everything I feel right now was fake.”

 Oceans watched him stop in his tracks, and his shoulders rise as he asked,

  “What are you talking about-“

  “My brother.. older brother actually.. was a Naval Aviator for Top Gun.. and.. well-“

  Oceans voice cracked as she prepared to tell Hangman, what she had kept from him this entire time. At the sound of her voice wavering, he turned to face her, but stayed in the same place as he watched her continue to say,

  “My brother was sent on a mission two weeks before I graduated Top Gun.. and he never.. he never came back. A technical malfunction set his plane up in flames, and he couldn’t eject.. he was stuck in mid air.. and even then he didn’t give up. He fought till the end. And still sent me a goodbye message.. that I remember word per word. My mother died on the day of my graduation, a heart attack killed her when she found out what had happened to him, and I didn’t know about it all, until I walked off stage with my reward and certificate wondering why no one showed up. And that’s when I got all the dreadful news. So out of fear, that the same could happen to me, I quit and never joined after all. And instead became a mechanic-“

  “So the same wouldn’t happen to someone else?” 

  Hangman finished her sentence and was explicitly on point. Oceans nodded her head then listened attentively at Hangman’s question,

  “So you graduated from Top Gun, like you’re in?”

  “Yeah... but I left it and chose to be the Naval Mechanic instead. I still fly, but I risk my life to test the jets, so the Naval Aviators wouldn’t lose theirs if they flew it first.”

  Hangman sighed deeply and his eyes even looked a little watery, as he looked up to her and commented,

  “That’s very brave, but selfless of you.”

 Oceans agreed,

  “I know it is.. but it’s been the only thing that gives me a sense of peace and comfort.”

 Hangman walked closer to Oceans as he protested,

  “But you fly immaculately perfect. You got the skills of a striker, and that’s very rare to come by, why don’t you just go back-“

  “Because it scares me Hangs! Ok, every time I hear dogfight or flight combat it reminds me of my brother and I lose it-“

  “But you need to learn how to let go Oceans!”

 Oceans huffed as she thought for a moment, then said,

  “Ok. Hear me out.. what if I made a bet with you.”

  Oceans watched Hangman straighten his shoulders and rub his face to clear the tears, he was now in for serious business, as he asked asked,

  “What do you mean a bet?”

 Confidently Oceans explained,

  “Listen, you’re going on this mission, whether it scares you to death or not-“

  “Oh you better not tell anyone that I threw up and that I’m scared-“

 Oceans raised her right hand and put the other on her heart as she promised,

  “I won’t I promise-“

 Sighing Hangman replied,

 “Ok ok.. you better not.”

  Oceans sent him a tight lipped smile before continuing,

  “Anyways, the bet is, that if you come back and prove to me, that it’s possible to go on this dangerous mission and make everyone, ‘including you’ come back home in one piece and alive. I’ll have to leave my current job and go back to Top Gun, and be the Naval Aviator I know I am.”

  Hangman’s face dropped and went pale, in his mind he processed everything she just said, 

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.. is she insane.’

  “Oceans you can’t put a bet out like this on a mission that I’m not sure about just so you can gain confidence and become an Aviator-“

 Oceans stuck her hand out and eyed him seriously,

 “Well I just did.. now are you in, or out? I’m serious.”

  Hangman saw a new look in Oceans’ hazel eyes, he could make out the hope they held, and the certainty that she was sure about what she was doing. But he still felt a little uncertain, so he asked,

  “Can I think about it? Because you would be another weight of responsibility.”

  Oceans nodded and replied,

  “Sure, but you have until the day before you go on the mission.”

  “Copy.. that’s a copy Oceans. Say, thanks for helping me out tonight after I accidentally slammed your face with the door... you didn’t have to help.”

 Oceans wanted to throw herself into his arms and hug it out, but they were both still professionally friends, so she kept it simple, she patted his shoulder,

 “You got it.”

 He sent her a wink then called off the night,

  “Well, I guess we should get to bed, we got busy days ahead of us.”

  They began to walk towards the door as Oceans replied softly,

  “You’re right about that.. Goodnight Hangman.”

 Before parting ways to their respectful bunkers Hangman answered with a smile and glint to his green eyes,

  “Goodnight Ghosty.”

 Mavericks POV 

 Maverick was near by trying to get fresh air, but had unintentionally listened to Oceans and Hangman’s entire conversation, learning new things about them both, realizing that they both had many similarities. He was happy to see them bond in the craziest way possible, but that made him grow a new plan, so he could push their friendship closer. Plus, he believed that it would help them in different ways. After blowing a kiss to the moon, believing that Penny was receiving it on the other side of the world, he went to bed as well, hoping to get plenty of rest, so he could have the confidence he needed, to do what he was going to do the next day.

[annepsilvaauthor]

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 3.706

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

sᴀɴ ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ, ᴄᴀ

Rooster drove his blue jeep through the coastal streets listening to music at full volume. Some people watched him pass on the track and looked at him in judgment. He didn't care. Kenny Loggings was more important.

The sun was already hiding behind the horizon, leaving behind a palette of colors in the sky and in the sea. And that was reflected in Bradley's sunglasses. Why Bradley and not Rooster or Lieutenant Bradshaw? Because here he was just a kid from Hawaii, enjoying a race in his car and great music.

Bradley wasn't wearing his beige uniform like he knew others were wearing out there. He had a thought that, at work, he needed to obey norms and protocols and assume a joint posture, as a team. Outside, he was just another guy who loved wearing jeans, a white and a flowered shirt.

He parked a few feet from The Hard Deck, a bar next to the hangar that paid homage to the Navy in its decor and demeanor. He had heard the other pilots talking in the dorm and decided to check for himself if that was really all they were talking about.

Bradley jumped out of the jeep and locked it, despite not having convincing security, as there were no windows in the vehicle. But he himself had installed his own security system. If someone climbed out the windows and tried to steal the jeep, sirens would be activated and a sentence: "Property of Bradley Bradshaw, please exit the vehicle before you are hit by rubber bullets".

He entered through the white wooden double doors and observed the crowded bar with naval pilots and naval officers. It was a very themed bar, he thought. There were miniature planes on the ceiling and walls, Navy symbols everywhere, including the counter in the center and the billiard table to the far right. It had some windows that allowed a beautiful view of the arrival of the night outside. The loud and lively music already caused a tremor in Bradley's body, indicating that there he could have a lot of fun.

He walked to the counter, where a beautiful and charming woman attended to everyone. She seemed to own the place. Bradley smiled at her and ordered a beer. She walked away to prepare the order, and he saw the wooden sign at the back, on which she had written: Disrespect the Navy or a Lady or put your cell phone on my counter and order a round. He sighed. It was a good thing he read it in time, as he was already preparing to put his cell phone there.

Bradley received the drink and walked towards his new classmates on the right side of the bar. They were all in uniform and with the same air of superiority and defiance as in the orientation room. He leaned against a column and watched them play pool.

“If you fly the way you do, this country is in danger.” A tall blond guy whose name was Hangman insulted another pilot.

“And yet, you're here.” He snapped.

Bradley watched this Hangman talk and behave in front of the others. He had the bigger-than-body ego typical of a Vigilantes. Bradley has heard of Hangman, the only one of them there who performed an armed kill. Although it was from a Russian fossil, it was still quite a feat for those peaceful days. Bradley knew that Hangman's style was solo flying and he should be careful with him, as he knew full well that he wasn't there to make friends. Hangman would kill everyone in dogfighting.

But not Bradley. No one would kill a pilot who didn't take any chances, as everyone went ahead of him with false bravery and was killed shortly thereafter. Rooster's style was to bide his time to attack. Something that for sure, Hangman wasn't used to.

“A douchebag, I know.” He heard a woman's voice at his side and realized she was talking about Hangman.

“One of the big ones.” He took a sip of his beer and looked at her. “Phoenix, right? From Lemoore?

“Correct. And you are Rooster from Oceana.” She said and also took a sip of her beer. “Are the Golden Warriors less annoying than the Vigilantes?”

He laughed softly.

“Much less, yes. We are privileged to be far away from them. Which is not the case with the Black Aces.”

“No. Sharing an aircraft carrier with them is a karma I must be paying for something really bad in the past.” She sighed regretfully, but with amusement in her eyes. “At least we're not on the same scale. Want to play?”

She pointed to the pool table.

"Seems pretty crowded and monopolized to me."

They watched Hangman roar and chest-to-chest with Coyote as he won a match. Phoenix shook her head. Rooster just stared.

“Let's go the other way.”

They walked away from there and went towards the darts. Phoenix took one from her hand and immediately remembered that night at the bar, Hangman's touch, the desire, the teasing. She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed the thoughts away. It wasn't going to happen anymore.

She aimed at the target unhappily using Hangman's advice and hit the red dot. Phoenix cheered and handed Rooster more darts. He aimed at the board too, but missed badly.

“I wasn't prepared.” He commented with a playful smile.

“I'm going to pretend I believe that. Another try, Hawaiian.”

Rooster aimed another dart and this time it hit just outside the frame. Phoenix shot him a disbelieving look.

"How did you manage to be just a pilot? With that scope you should have a gunner with you in the sky.”

“With the technology of the F-18 it is easier.” he scoffed as he took a sip. “And you, where did you learn that? Looks like a pro.”

She smiled smugly and ran her eyes slightly over to the pool table, where Hangman was scratching the tip of his cue and also looking in her direction. She lightly shook her head in disapproval and shifted her gaze to Rooster.

“I learn fast.”

Phoenix picked up two more darts and threw them, hitting both of them. Rooster whistled at her talent and she spun in front of him in victory.

"Do you know who's the best yet?" he asked as she leaned against a bench. Rooster pointed back. “He made a kill.”

“I can't believe it was that idiot.” She muttered incredulously.

“That idiot could take us down. We need to be careful.”

“He just poses. It's nothing but a peacock.” She drank her beer. “Let's see who's going to take down who."

“I learned not to underestimate anyone. I'm not saying I'm afraid of him or anyone here, but... I might be surprised.”

Rooster received a dismayed look from Phoenix and chuckled to himself. Of course she didn't understand, she was just like the others. At the very least, she was humble enough to strike up a conversation with him, something none of the other pilots had done since he'd arrived.

"Another beer?" she asked and he nodded.

Bradley watched Phoenix walk away toward the counter. She was a beautiful woman, with attitude and extremely skilled, otherwise she wouldn't be there. But she could sin for her boldness.

He noticed a piano nearby and smiled. Finally something he knew how to do right. And he was very good. Bradley walked over to an outlet and pulled it out, turning off the music on the jukebox. He heard groans from everyone in the bar and sat down at the piano, soon playing with a few notes.

At the counter, Phoenix was ordering two more beers when Storm approached her with a smirk.

"Another target?"

“No. I'm not that horny, Storm.” She said and her friend rolled her eyes, something that made her laugh. “He was alone.That's all.”

“And you are the heroine of his dreams.” She blinked frantically as if enthralled and Phoenix placed an open hand over her face.

“Stop. I won't do that here. I'm a professional.”

“But…you still have eyes.” Storm continued with the tease and looked at Rooster sitting on the piano. “He is hot!”

At that time, the two looked at the pilot strumming on the piano. His dark blond hair gleamed in the artificial lighting of the bar, his strong arms curved in frantic movements over the keys, his tanned skin made them want to bathe in the sun and his mustache had a special charm. Phoenix was smiling as she drank her beer.

“He's not one to throw away."

"I know that look!" Storm exclaimed in amusement. "Will there be a love triangle in Top Gun?"

"What?"

“Hangman hasn't taken his eyes off you since he arrived.

“Finally the day came when you lost your mind for good." She shook her head and peeled herself off the counter. "I'm going back to my new FRIEND."

“Friend, got it."

Phoenix turned away from her friend and walked over to Rooster, who was already starting to play something really good. She set his beer down on the piano and leaned there, watching him play.

Bradley started playing Billy Boy by Jerry Lee Lewis and Phoenix laughed at the kind of music he liked, but she enjoyed it anyway. It was lively. And he was good at not only playing, but also singing.

"Can you really rock and roll Billy Boy Billy Boy

Can you really rock and roll charming Billy

Yes I can really rock and roll I can even do the stroll

But I'm a young cat and I can't leave my mother

Well can you play your guitar Billy Boy Billy Boy

Can you play your guitar charming Billy

Yes I can play my guitar on a stage or in a car

But I'm a young cat and I can't leave my mother"

Bradley noted that some people approached where he was and shook their heads, feet and some even danced. He was smiling with the joy he felt playing his father's favorite singer, Nicholas Bradshaw. He could still hear him sing and dance around the room when he came back from some mission. He would pull his mother by the hand and dance with her lovingly.

"Goose! Take me home or lose me forever!"

"Show me the way, babe!"

His sunglasses slid down his nose, but he couldn't stop, nor could he if he wanted to. That was his fun, his way of remembering his father and escaping him. Bradley noticed that the entire bar was moving to the music, and he played one more song, then another, and another. He was the star of the night. A true Navy Ray Charles.

When he was already sweating and his fingers were getting tired, he decided to stop his show, but with a "boo" from the audience who wanted him to play more. He bowed to everyone and walked away from the piano, darting forward again.

"If you get tired of a career in the Navy, you know where to invest!" Phoenix approached him with a smile on her face, flushed from dancing.

“Yeah…I know some notes."

"Some? You are a king!" She praised excitedly and Bradley just laughed. “You're going to have to come here every day now to please your audience.

"At least the bar owner wouldn't spend a dime on live music."

“Penny loved it! I myself am inviting you to come tomorrow.

Bradley continued talking to Phoenix for a long time. He admitted that she was a very attractive woman and that, under the influence of a few bottles of beer, her voice became more and more pleasant to hear. She had an interesting way of talking, she was excited and she had a smile with her eyes. Again, a very attractive woman.

He was drinking his beer calmly when he noticed a blond mane on the counter. She turned her face away, her sweet gaze sweeping the bar as she waited for Penny to close her tab. Bradley's heart raced like the engine of his fighter jet. He sat up straight in the seat, not listening to another word Phoenix was saying. Was her. Wow, she was...wow.

Bradley watched as she paid the check and was already on her way out of the bar. He hurried off to Phoenix, apologizing for having to leave so suddenly, but thanking her for her good company.

In seconds, Bradley was out of the bar feeling the cold breeze of dawn and the sea hit his face and chest sweaty from the show. He walked a little while searching the place and imagining where she would have gone. He walked a little farther and his heart pounded again when he saw her walking slowly down the beach, wetting her bare feet in the wet sand as she held her shoes in one hand.

Bradley practically ran there, feeling his whole body shiver and he knew it wasn't from the cold. He stood a few meters behind her back, watching her long black dress buffeted by the wind, billowing to the left side of her slender body. Had she worked out? Her thighs were thicker.

He quickened his pace and got close enough to her to bring both index fingers to her ribs. She gave a start and turned, her eyes furious, already readying her shoes for the attack.

"Calm down, it's me!" he joked with a huge smile on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Bradley! You scared the shit out of me!" she said breathlessly and kicked off her shoes. The expression began to soften. “Why do you love to do this? Can't arrive like a normal person?"

“You love it, Claire!"

“Yes, when we were six. After that, you started to be boring." She commented seriously, but then smiled. A sweet smile he hadn't seen in years.

"It's good to see you too." He kept the excited smile on his face. "I see you didn't need me to cut your hair."

He pointed to her straight, blond hair, the length of which didn't touch the curve of her neck. He remembered his adolescence when Claire would visit him in Annapolis. Each time, her hair was longer and shinier and he teased her that one day he would take a pair of scissors and cut her hair in her sleep. Claire replied that she would cut his balls off if he did that and spent almost the entire night awake, believing that Bradley really could do that. He never would. He loved her hair.

“I see now that you've become a copy of your father." She countered humorously.

She pointed at his mustache, clothes and sunglasses and he laughed. Indeed he had taken on his father's style, so he could have a bit of him with him.

Bradley was watching her closely. She was still much smaller than he was, almost eight inches apart. Her body had become more toned since the last time he'd seen her, as had her breasts that jutted out in the understated V-neckline. The full, small lips contained remnants of pink lipstick, which had probably come off due to the alcohol. But one thing hadn't changed and maybe never would, the light brown eyes shone like the full moon above them. A gentle and sassy glow at the same time.

"Wow... how many years has it been?" He rambled more than asked.

"Five years."

"Yes... it was on my promotion to lieutenant. You were with your..."

"Dad." she added with a smile, as she knew otherwise it might cause an argument.

Claire Anne Mitchell, or simply Claire, was the only daughter of Pete Mitchell, better known as Maverick, the man who had destroyed Bradley's life at an early age, at the age of four. Maverick discovered Claire's existence after graduating from Top Gun, when she was already four years old. He was a man of many women and, in one of his adventures, he won an unexpected gift.

Claire's mother, Stella Maeve, couldn't find Maverick anywhere, as he lived for the Navy. However, she managed to contact Charlotte Blackwood, his girlfriend at the time. Stella had no interest in Maverick helping her at all, she just wanted Claire to meet her father. But when Pete met his blue eyes with her light brown ones it was magical. He didn't want anything else in life but to be close to his daughter.

Now, Claire was in front of Bradley sharing a smile with him and the years seemed not to have passed. The connection was there, between two friends who practically grew up together and who, due to a mishap of fate, had taken different paths.

"Are you still at NASA?" he asked, not wanting to take the matter to Maverick.

"Yes I am." She started walking again and he followed her. “I was working on a project in Washington, but I was reassigned to the Ames Research Center in Santa Clara County, here in California."

“Who knew you'd become an aerospace engineer. Although you were always kind of a nerd with all those boring books and formulas."

“Judge me all you want, but you loved it when I built those rocket tracks out of French fries."

“That's true, but… I hated when it went wrong and the potatoes exploded on us." he recalled and the two laughed. "I hope the potatoes are more resistant now."

"Yes, they are."

Claire had followed in her father's career, but in a different way. She loved watching the fighters fly and maneuver as a little girl, but she never wanted to be inside. She was amazed at how that was possible. How did that piece of tin get out of the ground? Why didn't it fall? Or how did that machine work?

It didn't take long for her to understand what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She graduated in Aerospace Engineering with several medals for performance, completed her master's, doctorate and had recently finished a PhD. Also, while still in college she got a job at NASA and has remained there ever since, where she did a lot of important research and was occasionally featured in a local newspaper. She was too good.

Leaving Washington, she thought she was going to participate in a CPA project on wind tunnels and the aerodynamics of propeller-driven aircraft. However, she found that the center has expanded its role to do research and technology in aeronautics, spaceflight and information technology. This provided leadership in astrobiology, small satellites, robotic lunar exploration, intelligent/adaptive systems and thermal protection. That was Claire's copy of heaven.

“Wait…Santa Clara County is seven hours away. Why are you here?" he asked turning to her.

"I'm in work. I was invited to a special project." She smiled shyly as she always did when she told of her conquests.

"I suppose you can't tell me. Again."

"No. Officially, I'm not here." She turned her gaze to him as well. Handsome, strong and with that ridiculous mustache that only looked charming on him. "And you?"

“I have my secret projects too, you know? I can't go out revealing like this to everyone." he joked and heard her laugh. That sound was always his favorite. “If I tell you, I'll have to kill you later."

"Would you have courage?" She asked incredulously in a joke.

"I don't know. You already murdered part of yourself when you cut your hair."

“Then you can tell me in parts." She winked.

“Smart, as usual." He put his hands in his front pockets. “I've been called to Top Gun."

"What?"

Bradley watched her park in the sand with an expression more scared than incredulous and he was taken aback.

"You don't seem very happy for me."

"No! I mean... I am. Very happy for you." She ruffled her flowing hair. "It's just that..."

He waited for her to complete the sentence, but she didn't. Claire fiddled with her hair frantically and looked away in all directions. Bradley knew her well enough to know that something was bothering her.

So, he approached her and touched her hands gently, feeling the softness of her skin. He got his uneasy gaze on hers and the world seemed to go silent. All he could hear was the heavy pounding of his heart in his ear. The glint was there, deep in her eyes, along with the worry. Bradley didn't know he missed her so much and seeing her there so close after years awakened the same feeling in him as before. He wanted to protect her from whatever was ailing her.

"Claire..." he stammered trying to touch her face, but received a hand preventing him.

"I need to go." she said resolutely and completely freed herself from his touch.

"Okay, I'll drive you home."

"No, I'll be on my way. It's not too far."

"What the... it's too late. I have my jeep a few meters from here..."

“Bradley!" she demanded firmly. "I'm going alone."

He studied her serious expression and was saddened that there was still that spark of hurt between them that flared up at some point whenever they met. He resolved to respect her decision.

"OK."

"Thanks." She started to walk away, but turned on her heel. "It was good seeing you!"

"Equally!"

He watched her walk up the beach and towards the wooden walkway, where she walked for a few meters until she was out of sight.

Now, Bradley felt like all of the early morning chill had been sucked into his chest. This was how he always looked when she left. From childhood, adolescence and adult life. They had the power to meet in the unlikeliest of places and to blow apart again. They were like opposing winds, never close, always wandering.

And he knew that part of it was his fault. Maybe he would never have the opportunity to fix everything, not when everything he felt for her was tangled up with what Maverick had wrought in his life. Perhaps this was their fate: forever close, never together.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 36: Hostage

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Warning: This chapter has to do with a person being captured by another person. If this is a trigger for you, please don't read.

You slowly raise your head and open your eyes as you still sat tied in the chair. Your stomach grumbles from the smell of bacon cooking and you move your mouth to get the dryness out from sleep and thirst.

You hear the doorknob jiggle, the door opens, and Scott walks in with a tray of food, juice and water. He carefully sets the tray down on the bed to his right. "You're probably hungry."

You tiredly look at him. "What time is it?"

"It's six a.m."

"Scott. You can't keep me here."

"No one knows about this place."

"I have friends. They'll figure it out."

He slowly starts walking towards you and you turn your face away, looking at the wall.

"I'm going to untie you. Don't do anything stupid." He starts with your feet. He glances up at you as he unties your feet and notices the bruise on the side of your face. "Why did you have to make me mad?" He reaches up and places a finger under your chin and turns your face, so you are looking at him. He then gently rubs the bruise with his thumb. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." He closes his eyes, leans in and kisses your mouth.

You close your eyes, trying to think of Jake, Christian and the new life you and Jake created just to take your mind off of this moment.

Scott ends the kiss, and you open your eyes and stare into angry blue eyes.

"You better start getting used to this. You're mine now. Mother will be pleased." He finishes untying your feet and then moves to your hands. "Don't move until I leave the room."

He grabs the ropes he had you tied down with, stands up, backs up slowly to the open door, closes it, and locks the door.

You carefully bring your arms up, rub your wrists, and then carefully stand up. You look behind you and notice a bathroom behind you and then look around. You realize you're in a basement and the only window is a small glass brick one in the bathroom that you can't crawl out or open. You sigh as you slowly walk to the bed towards the tray of food he left you. You needed to keep up your strength for you and the baby.

At your house, Sheriff Jayson Dillenger looked at Montgomery and Sheila in the kitchen. "She didn't say where she was going?"

"No." Montgomery said and shook his head. "Y/N gets called out to things at various times. You know that."

Jayson sighs. "I know. I already pinged her last text. Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing. I've contacted the FBI and they're sending out two agents." Jayson's phone rang and he looked at them. "Excuse me." He walked towards the living room and answered his phone.

Sheila looked at Montgomery. "Basil. Jake isn't stupid. He's going to figure it out."

"Well, until he gets home, let's not worry him."

Sheila nods towards Jayson. "Who is he to Y/N?"

Montgomery sighs. "Sheriff Dillenger is or was Christian's best friend. They had met on deployment. He was a Military Police officer at the base. After Christian was killed, Jayson moved back here. He promised Christian he would watch over Y/N."

"Y/N never mentioned him."

"She was always quiet about it. They are good friends. Jayson tried to make more of it for Christian, but there was nothing between them and Y/N still wasn't over Christian. How your son won her heart is a mystery because she's not an easy one to open up."

"I noticed. She's still pretty cautious around me."

Montgomery nodded. "She hasn't had parents for a while, so this is all new to her, but don't let her fool you. She's tougher than she looks."

Jayson walked back into the kitchen. "That was Dave Robinson, Y/N's boss. Apparently, Scott called in today." He says looking between Sheila and Montgomery.

"Who's Scott?" Sheila questions.

"Mr. Deboer is a co-worker and friend of Y/Ns," Montgomery explains.

"I have one of my Deputies heading to Scott's house now."

"I don't understand. Who would want to hurt Y/N?" Sheila asks.

Jayson and Montgomery look at each other and then at Sheila.

Later that night in Virginia, Jake and Phoenix's aircraft carrier docked.

"We're all set with the private jet. We've just got to get to the airport," Phoenix explains to Jake as they walked down the gangplank to land.

"Good. The sooner we get home, the better," Jake replied.

Phoenix looked at him. A happy smile on her face.

"What?"

"You said home."

[mygyn]

The Scare

Summary: Bradley knew when he got the call to return to Top Gun that things wouldn't be simple.

Warnings: N/A at this time.

Bradley knew when he got recalled from Japan that whatever this mission was, it would be difficult. Bradley knew he should reach out to you and Phoneix that he would never hear the end of it if he didn't, but he also wasn’t up for much company. About a week ago, he had gotten the dreaded call that his “Uncle Pete” had once again crashed a plane, and they weren’t sure if he would make it. Lo and behold, Pete Maverick Mitchell, had been found not even six hours later totally fine in a diner in Canada. Bradley was tired. He was annoyed and honestly a bit bitter that he still cared for the man that had completely ruined his life. 

Flashback

This whole situation made him not want to reach out to the love of his life. His Partner of six years, Hailey Lynn Bradshaw. They had met during his first year of flight school around the same time he had met your sister Natasha Phoneix Trace. Phoenix had just earned her callsign by landing a flaming plane after one of the worst bird strikes Bradley had ever seen. At this time, Natasha had been working towards her certification in a single-seater, and Bradley was her wingman for this flight. About 10 mins in, a murder of crows came and surrounded both of their planes. I was alright as the stupid Crow just hit my Window, but Phoneix was not so lucky; one of those birds ended up going and clogging up her engine. The right side had completely caught fire, and the left was barely holding on. Somehow Natasha maintained control and landed her plane in an emergency landing. 

Even though Phoneix landed without a scratch on her because her plane was a smoldering pile of Ashes, she was mandated to go to the base hospital, and they called you. Bradley had never seen someone look as beautiful as you. You were wearing a sundress, and you had come running up to the front desk saying, “Natasha Trace. Please tell me where Natasha is. I just got a call from here. They said she crashed and they couldn’t release anything else until I go there. Please tell me she is alright”. Bradley knew at that moment that she was the one for Him. Bradley walked over to you as the nurse looked flustered, and she was trying to find Natasha’s room number. ‘Ma’am, my name is Bradley Bradshaw. I was flying with your sister today.” You immediately interrupted, “You were flying with Natty. Is she alright? Tell me she is alive. I told her not to join the Navy?” Bradley took a deep breath and said, “Ma’am your sister, from what I saw and heard walked away without a scratch. She was just brought here out of precaution. She walked away from her plane like a Phoneix rising from the ashes.” 

Bradley barely had a second to react. Phoenix’s sister had attempted to drop to her knees, and she was sobbing. Bradley moved and caught her in his arms before she could hit the floor. He could barely make out you were sobbing and saying, “Please, not her. It’s just us left. Everyone else is gone.” Bradley’s blood ran cold. He knew that you were 2 years younger than Natasha and had just turned 18 this past year. He remembered Natasha mentioned growing up in the system. Bradley knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. He put his arms around your shoulders and said, “Ma’am can I help you get to a chair?.” You responded. “ Please don’t call me Ma’am; my name is Hailey”. You had tears streaming down your face and struggled to catch your breath. “Hailey, Nat is alright. She will be fine; the Doctors just have to clear her then you can take her home, alright? Come on, let’s get up and move over to the chair. Once you have a seat, I will go talk to the nurse and see if I can get you a timeline on when Nat is free to see you, alright? 

Fast forward a couple of months 

Over the next couple of months, as Phoneix and Bradley got closer and closer to Wingman, you got closer to Hailey as well. About two months into being friends with Hailey and Nat, you realized you were hopelessly in love with Hailey. Hailey was attending community college and taking her nursing degree prerequisites. Hailey was sitting at the table when Bradley walked in carrying Chinese takeout. Since the accident, it had become somewhat of a tradition for Brad to bring food over every Friday and for you to do a movie night. You were about ½ way through LOTR Extended editions. This week was different Nat had been asked out on a date by a pilot named Jake Serisen; she had left about an hour ago. Bradley knew he was taking a risk coming with takeout when Nat was gone, but he knew this might be his only chance to shoot his shot with you. 

Hailey looked up from her homework, somewhat startled, she says. “Bradley, what are you doing here? Nat is on a date. Bradley smiles. This was it, “Hey, beautiful. I actually came to see you. I brought take-out orange chicken, your favorite. I thought we could continue the movie without Nat or watch something else?” Bradley swallowed and said, “Hailey, I really would like to get to know you better.” Bradley’s face blushed bright red. “Bradley? We know each other plenty already, don’t we?” Hailey seemed confused by Brad’s statement. Bradley groaned. He was going to have to be direct. “Hailey, I. Mean I. I really like you. I would like the chance to take you out on a date. I remember when I first met you in the hospital after Nat got her call sign. I remember seeing you standing there and seeing how devastated you were. I just wanted to protect you, to take and put you in my arms and keep you safe. I know this is early, but these last three months have been the best of my life. Would you, Miss Trace, let me take you out on a date?” Hailey’s face turned bright red, and you said, “Brad. I. Does Nat know you feel this way?” Bradley took a deep breath and says, “Hailey, I asked Nat if I could come over tonight. Of course, she knows. She threatened to cut my balls off if I hurt you. Please, Hailey, give me a chance?” 

Hailey pauses for a min. She takes a deep breath and seems like she’s deep in thought. She looks over at Brad and finally says, “Alright, Bradshaw, you get one shot, so don’t screw it up.” The rest is history. Bradley and Hailey dated for three months before Bradley popped the question. Hailey said yes. Brad got his callsign from this instance as, according to Nat, just like  a Roosters crow in the morning, it was way too early for him to pop that question. Yet, you and Hailey had your rough patches with long deployments, Her schedule at the hospital, and internships and residency. Yet never for one moment did Bradley regret marrying the love of his life. 

Fades back to the present

God’s how Bradley missed you, but he knew you didn’t understand the drama between you and Maverick. Bradley knew that it had hurt when you didn’t invite any of your Uncles or the Flyboys to your elopement in Vegas that it was just Nat, Hailey, and yourself. Hailey desperately wanted a family and wanted the chance to get to know you. She had spent the last six years with you trying to get you to open up and trying to convince you to just reach out to Maverick, and now was the perfect opportunity to reach out to one of the Flyboys to see how Mav was. Bradley knew that once he reached that, there was no going back. That the Flyboys would not let him retreat from them again. Was Bradley ready for that? He was called back to Top Gun? He was sitting in the house that you and Hailey called a home. He knew you would be home soon and madder than a hornet that you showed up without letting her and Nat know. Did Bradley dare take his phone out and call Papa Admiral Kazansky? Did he take a risk and reach out to him? Bradley took a deep breath in, and he knew the answer. He couldn’t keep running. 

Bradley took his phone out and sent a text to you. “Hey Beautiful, I just wanted to let you know I got called back to Top Gun. It’s classified, so I’m not sure what’s going on yet. I just wanted to tell you I was home, gorgeous. I’m also going to call my Uncle Ice. I received a call that Captain Pete Mitchell had to eject a week ago; he was MIA. You’ve wanted me to try and work through things with them, and I think now is the time. I love you beautiful I’ll see you when you get home. Bradley knew that he had to call now, or Hailey would call him on his bullshit. 

Bradley took his phone out and clicked on the contact that he hadn’t spoken to in twelve years… He heard ringing, then a quiet, “Hello, this is Admiral Kazansky”.

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

#23- Familiar hugs -Icemav

-

Mav touches the polished silver of the door handle, tips of his fingers brushing the cool smooth surface. His dress whites rustle as he grabs the door handle in earnest and gently pushes it down, opening the door to reveal the warm interior of Ice’s office.

He gives himself a moment to take in the dark wood furniture, the books on the shelves, the frames on the wall, their photo in a place of honor beside Ice’s first edition of The Wright Brothers. 

“Admiral”, he smiles and closes the door behind him with a click. His right hand reaches up to take off his cap, clasping the stiff headgear between his hands as he takes careful steps towards Ice. 

Ice returns his smile, back leaning deeper into the leather backed chair to better look at Mav, from the top of his neatly combed-back hair and down to the tips of his polished shoes. Heat prickles on Mav’s skin as blue eyes take their time to drink in all of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, the man and the captain-  both sides of the man, both known and beloved by the Admiral.

Mav knows when Ice is satisfied - his wingman sighs with a tiny quirk to his lips before turning to type ‘I heard.’ Mav squeezes his cap reflexively. ‘You’ll bring them home.’

A hand grips his wrist and he stops squeezing the life out of his poor cap. Mav flicks his eyes down to meet Ice’s, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Ice nods. He tilts his head and gives Mav a long searching look. 

The home office is silent save for the soft tick-tocking of the small antique clock on the mantelpiece. The sounds of the Kazansky grandchildren playing and laughing in the backyard drifts in with the breeze through the open window with the soft fluttering of flags - he hears his name followed by childish squealing and knows that a few of the oldest must have seen his bike parked in the driveway. He’ll have to go down and tussle with kids for a bit, then. 

This might be the last time, afterall. 

Mav’s breathing - previously steady and calm as he stares back at Ice in silence - hitches and it feels like a part of his soul had separated itself without his permission and seeped through the carpets to wedge itself into the foundation of this home, scared and angry and refusing to leave this life they have with Ice. 

This might be the last time.

Ice tugs at Mav’s wrist and begins to pull himself up from the chair. Strong hands clasp his upper arm and run slowly up all the way to his neck - palms skimming over the shoulder boards and pressing as best as they could over the stiff collars of Mav’s uniform to touch his skin. Those hands with their callouses from years of service then gently holds Mav’s face between them - nowhere to hide. 

Warm thumbs move in slow, wiping motion just under Mav’s eyes, pulling and pushing at his wrinkles as fingers cradle the back of his head.  

“And you’ll come home, too.” 

Mav forces himself to not look away from Ice. He hears Sarah from somewhere around the house, her voice easily distinguished from the children’s giggles. For a split second, he wonders if Bradley has ever come by the house to spend time with his cousins like he used to over summer breaks, or if Mav’s actions cost more than their own relationship. He wonders if after –

If there is an after–  

He reaches just behind Ice to place his cap on Ice’s desk before wrapping his arms around the man, easily dislodging the Admiral’s hands from his face as he folds into him, pressing his face first into the warm cardigan before moving to the crook of Ice’s neck where he lingered to take in Ice’s familiar cologne.

He ignores the way his medals dig themselves into his front and presses in even closer, arms wrapping tighter around that familiar body to feel their hearts beat in sync. He feels Ice’s arms around his shoulders, one trembling hand with fingers buried in his hair and trying just as hard to fuse their bodies together. 

Mav hears the unspoken words and decides to breathe life into them.

“And I’ll come home to you, too.”

-

-

Dear my love, love, love

I wanna stay with you

[lgg5989]

MavDad: Car Trouble

A/N: Another installment of MavDad! As always, thank you for reading, and please leave any ideas for more chapters in the comments! 🙏🏻 💜

MavDad Masterlist

Also on Ao3!

---

Carole and Bradley were on their way home from picking up groceries, the Saturday sun beating down on their car made it a bit stuffy even with the air conditioning on. Carole had just turned into their neighborhood when she saw white steam coming from under the hood of her car. Thinking quickly she hit the brakes and moved the car to the curb, bringing it to a short stop before hitting the key to turn it off.

“Are you okay honey?” She asked Brad, concern in her voice.

“Yeah mom, I’m okay,” Brad looked at her, “you can move your hand now.”

Carole followed Brad’s eyes to her hand, which she had thrown out to hold him back when the car started acting up, she let out a small laugh.

“Well I guess we need to call Maverick to come get us,” Carole said, the exhaustion of the day coming over her face. Getting her phone out of her purse, she hit the speed dial.

Mav picked up on the first ring, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Mav, can you come get Bradley and I? The car broke down on our way home,” she said, letting out a sigh.

“Of course! Where are you at?” Mav said quickly, Carole could hear him getting his shoes on and grabbing the keys to the Bronco in the background.

“Just at the front of the neighborhood, we were almost home,” Carole informed him.

“Okay, I’ll be there in just a minute then,” Mav said quickly before hanging up the phone.

Carole turned to Bradley, rolling the windows down as the car started to get uncomfortably warm, “Mav is on his way, we better get the groceries gathered up before he gets here.”

Just as they opened the trunk up, Mav rumbled up in the Bronco. He jumped out to help them transfer the groceries from Carole’s car to the truck.

Mav grabbed the key out of Carole’s car and turned the flashers on before locking it. Getting back in the truck, he said, “Brad and I will come back once we get the groceries inside and see if we can fix it.”

Carole nodded, “Hopefully we can get it fixed, I’m not sure we can afford a new car right now.”

“It was white steam right?” Mav asked her, turning the truck towards their street.

“Yeah white steam, it happened all of the sudden too,” Carole confirmed for him.

“I don’t think it’ll be too big of a fix,” Mav said, “White steam usually means coolant so it probably just overheated.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Carole said, relief in her voice.

They pulled into the driveway and got out, taking the groceries inside so Carole could put them away while Mav and Brad went back to her car.

“Okay bud, let’s grab a strap to tow it home and we can look at it here,” Mav said to Brad, walking into the third bay of the garage where he kept his tools.

“Do you think it’ll be a hard fix?” Brad asked him.

“I’m not sure, it could be a bad gasket somewhere or it could be a bigger problem, like a bad coolant line,” Mav said over his shoulder while digging in his toolbox.

“We will figure it out though,” turning to give Brad a small smile as he found the right strap.

They made their way back to Carole’s car, Mav backing the Bronco up to it and hooking the strap up so they could tow it home. He opened the driver’s door and let Brad get behind the wheel.

“Okay, so you just need to steer it behind me and hit the brakes when I stop. Don’t rear end the truck okay bud?” Mav said to him through the driver's window.

“I can do it,” Brad said confidently.

“Put your seatbelt on too, don’t want you getting hurt,” Mav said, waiting as Brad buckled up.

“Alright, put your foot on the brake,” Mav instructed, “Now, put it in neutral. We are going to go slow and steady,” Mav made sure Brad was situated before making his way to the Bronco.

Mav put it in drive and drove them slowly back to the house, watching Brad in the side mirror of the Bronco the whole way home.

Pulling in front of the driveway, Mav brought the Bronco to a slow stop, watching Brad do the same in Carole’s car. He put the truck in park and got out, pulling the tow strap off the back.

“Okay, I’m going to put the truck in the driveway then we have to push this into the garage so we can take a look at it,” Mav said to Bradley. He put the truck in the driveway and shut it off.

Coming around to the driver’s door of Carole’s car he opened the door, “Alright move over,” Mav said as he turned the key on to start it up. He quickly put it in gear and pulled it into the garage.

They both got out as Mav popped the hood, “Do you smell that?” he asked Brad as he lifted the hood.

“It smells kinda sweet?” Brad questioned.

Mav nodded, “When coolant burns it has a sweet smell to it.”

“Let’s check the coolant level,” Mav said.

Brad got a flash light and held it to the back of the coolant tank trying to determine the level, “I don’t see any fluid in here.”

Taking a look for himself, Mav agreed with him, “That’s probably why it overheated, no fluid to keep it cool.”

He started searching for the leak, eventually spotting some orange fluid seeping out of the water pump.

“Ah there’s our problem, leaky water pump,” as he pointed to the side of the engine for Brad to see.

Brad nodded, “Well that shouldn’t be too bad to fix.”

“Nope, not bad at all. Let’s go tell your mom and see if the parts store has what we need,” Mav said, turning to walk into the house.

—

After running to the parts store and back, Mav and Brad were in the middle of replacing Carole’s water pump when she came into the garage. Mav was leaned over the side of the car, holding a flashlight for Brad who was tightening the new water pump onto the engine. Upon looking closer at them Carole realized that they both had dirt and grime smudged on their hands and faces.

She smiled, at least Brad had someone to learn mechanics from. Mav might be a fighter pilot, but he knew his stuff when it came to engines.

Brad finished with the last bolt, “Alright, I think I got that one done. Now we put new coolant in it?” he asked Maverick.

“Yep, new coolant and that should be it,” Mav said with a smile.

“Well it sounds like you two are almost done,” Carole said, making her presence known.

They turned to look at her, Brad saying, “Yep! Just need to put the coolant in and it'll be good as new.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Would you two like some lunch?” Carole asked.

“That sounds great!” Mav said with a smile, “We will be in as soon as we are done.”

Mav grabbed the coolant and showed Brad how to pour it so that it wouldn’t spill. Mav put the cap back on the tank and handed the key to Brad.

“Why don’t you start her up?” Mav said, pointing towards the driver’s seat.

Brad grabbed the key with a grin and got behind the wheel, cranking the ignition over, the car fired up. Mav checked their work, making sure there wasn’t any more fluid leaking from the water pump.

Slamming the hood, he gave Brad a thumbs up, “Why don’t you park it in its normal spot and I'll move the Bronco?”

“Really?” Brad asked.

Mav shrugged, “Why not, you helped fix it.”

They moved the cars around, Brad being careful to back his mom’s in the garage perfectly. Going inside for lunch, Mav went to the sink to wash his hands, smiling at how much fun it was working with someone in the garage again. Him and Goose were always tinkering with the Bronco or Mav's bike, making upgrades or doing maintenance, it was nice to know that he had someone to tinker with.

[queenxxxsupreme]

The Eldest Son

A/N: I honestly couldn’t tell you where this came from but..... I think I like it.....???? As usual I’m really shitty with titles so just ignore it 

Warnings: someone is outted in this, mentions of slurs being used but not actually mentioning what slurs, mentions of a fight, 

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Bram struggles to figure out how to tell you and Geralt his sexuality. 

***

You lifted your head from where you were sewing a rip in one of your skirts. There was movement coming from down the hall from Bram’s room. You drew your brows together, knowing very well your son had gone out with friends for the evening. 

The door to Lana’s room opened and you saw her slip into Bram’s room. 

Curious and a little concerned, you placed the skirt on the kitchen table and went to see what was going on. 

You knocked on Bram’s door, hearing muffled whispers from the other side. 

“Lana? What are you doing in your brother’s room?” You tried to open the door, only to find that something was barricading it. 

“I’m-I’ve got something, mom. Don’t worry about it!” She spoke, sounding a little frantic. 

“Lana, this door should not be blocked.” You put your hands on your hips, frustrated and even more concerned now. Who was in there with her? Why was she in her brother’s room while he was gone? Why was the door blocked to keep anyone from entering?

There was more whispering, this time you could hear who it was. Lana was clearly one of them, and the other sounded like your son. 

“Just tell her, Bram.”

“Lana, I’m gonna fucking-,”

“She’ll understand! I’m sure she will! And maybe she can talk to dad.”

There was silence. You waited, your patience wearing thin. 

Something behind the door moved and it opened, but only enough to reveal Lana. 

“Don’t be mad, mom.” She murmured quietly, brows drawn together.

“I’m not mad, Lana. I don’t like that the door was blocked.” You tried to peek into the room but Lana wouldn’t let you, closing the door a little more. You raised your brows at her and opened your mouth to speak when Bram’s voice came from within his room. 

“Lana, move.” His voice sounded off, like he was scared. 

Lana stepped out of the way and without hesitation, you moved into the bedroom to check on your eldest. 

He stood at the foot of his bed, holding his arm. His eyes were cast to the ground. 

With a wave of your hand, the fireplace in his room was lit. Though it wasn’t the best lighting, you could see dark bruising on the left side of his face and what appeared to be dried blood below his nose and spread across his cheek. 

“Close the window behind you, Bram.” You told him softly. “Lana, give me a moment with your brother, please.”

She nodded her head and left, closing the door behind herself. 

“Why didn’t you come in through the front door?” You shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to make of the situation. 

“Didn’t want to bother you.” He muttered.

“Sit down, love.” You gestured to his bed. “I’ll be right back. Need to clean your face up.”

You left the room to retrieve a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. When you returned, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped. 

“Never think that you are a bother to me, Bram.” You sat the bowl down on the table by his bed and dipped the washcloth into the water, then you wrung it out. You sat down on the bed next to Bram. “No matter the time of day or night, you’re never a bother to me.”

“Just thought you’d be sleeping.” He didn’t turn his head to you. 

Your eyes flickered down to his hands, taking note of his busted knuckles. 

“I can’t sleep when your father is gone.” You spoke gently, reaching over for his hand. Bram let you take his hand and carefully, you began to clean the blood from the wounds. “It’s an old habit from before he left the Path.”

Even though you knew your husband was just out with his brothers, you couldn’t seem to silence the voice in the back of your head that screamed he was still in danger. 

“Who did you get into a fight with, Bram?”

“It’s not a big deal, mom.”

“Something is bothering you." You stopped wiping the blood from his hand and instead looked up at him. “Bram, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head firmly. A tear slipped down his cheek. 

You put the washcloth over the side of the bowl and put your hand on his back. 

“Bram-,”

“I just- I fucking want to be left alone!” He shouted, standing up suddenly. 

You were taken back. He’d never once cursed at you, nor did he direct his anger at you. He was your sweet boy, your first born. You two were always so close. 

You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe reprimand him for cursing at you and raising his voice. But something in your gut twisted up. There was something going on that he wasn’t telling you, something that was hurting him. You couldn’t bring yourself to scold him then and there. 

You nodded your head and left the room, pulling the door shut behind yourself. You stood there for a minute, unsure of what to do. Your heart was racing furiously in your chest and the urge to vomit was rising in your stomach. 

“Mom?”

You turned your head to see Lana standing in the edge of her room. 

“He isn’t angry at you.” She whispered, shaking her head softly. 

“Who did he get into a fight with?”

Lana said nothing, eyes flickering down to the floor. 

“Is he in trouble or something, Lana?” You moved away from the door, stepping towards your youngest.

“No, mom. No.” She shook her head. “It’s just…. I can’t tell you. It’s for him to tell you.”

You admired her loyalty to her brother and trusted her judgement. If Bram was in danger and if his life was at risk, she would tell you. 

“Come give me a hug.”

She closed the space between you quickly, nearly plowing you over when she collided into you. She wrapped her arms tightly around you and squeezed. 

“Love you, mom.”

“I love you, Lana.” You kissed the side of her head. You told her good night and then went back to the kitchen to finish patching up the skirt. 

***

About thirty minutes later, the door to Bram’s room opened. You had finished with the skirt and now sat by the fireplace reading. 

You looked up from the book to see your son shuffle in to the living room. His eyes found you and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I-I’m sorry, mom, for…. for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay, Bram.” You closed the book. “I’m your mother, Bram, and if there’s any sort of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, or-or something else…. You need to tell me.”

“I’m not in trouble with anyone.” He shook his head. His eyes flickered over to the door. “When do you think dad will be home?”

“It’s just a little past midnight.” You thought out loud. “And Lambert said they weren’t coming back until sunrise. I’d say a few hours.”

Bram nodded, still thinking as he rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“Can I talk to you about something? I-I just…. I don’t want dad to-to know. At least not yet. He’ll be angry.”

You crinkled your brows together, confused, but nonetheless, you nodded.

Bram moved to sit on the floor in front of the fire place, focusing on the flames inside the hearth. He picked at his nails. 

“I got into it with Andrei.”

“Andrei? What happened, love? I thought you two were friends.” You tilted your head to the side. 

Bram shrugged his shoulders, taking a moment to clear his throat. 

“He was, um, was making fun of Maverick.”

Maverick was another one of Bram’s friends.

“Maverick…. Mom, Maverick doesn’t like girls.” Bram whispered, shaking his head softly. His eyes watched the fire. You could see the tears in his gaze, see the pain in his eyes. “He’s-He’s…. And Andrei was just…. He was being such a fucking asshole.” Bram covered his face with his hands. 

You moved out of your chair and got down on your knees beside your son. You placed your hand on his back to comfort him. 

“Shhh, love. All will be okay.” You murmured. “I’m so sorry Maverick had to go through that. He’s a sweet boy. I’m glad you were there to stick up for him. But there’s no reason to get so upset over it, Bram.”

“He-He saw Maverick with someone. He’s-Mom, he’s going to tell everyone. The entire village is going to know and-and Maverick’s family is going to kick him out! Or worse! Mom, they could….” He trailed off.

“Then he can come and stay here.” You said. “If you’d like him to, that is.”

Bram’s breath caught in his throat and his hands fell from his face. He looked at you, brows furrowed. 

“If-If I want…. If I want him to?”

“He’s your friend, and you are worried about him.” You explained. “If you’d like to offer him a place to stay, he can stay here. We have the extra space and you know we’d never let harm befall him. Neither myself or your father would allow it. He’d be treated just as one of our own.”

Bram lost his voice as he stared at you for a few heartbeats. The tears that trailed down his cheeks broke your heart. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe them away, to comfort him and tell him that his friend was going to be okay. 

“I-I-I was the one…. Mom, I was the one Andrei saw him with.” He whispered. 

You didn’t hesitate to embrace him, to wrap your arms tightly around him and pull him into your chest. You cradled the back of his head, holding him just as you did when he was a toddler and suffered from nightmares. 

“I love you, Bram.” You told him, giving him a tight squeeze. “I love you, and nothing in the world could change that.”

Now you understood. The anger. The sneaking into the house. The concern for Geralt finding out. 

His shoulders shook with his cries and he melted into your touch, tucking his nose into your neck. 

You comforted him until he stopped crying, until he pulled away and wiped his cheeks. 

“Who else knows?” You asked, reaching out to brush a few pieces of his hair back out of his eyes. Then you took his hand.

“Just Lana.” He said. “And…. And Uncle Jaskier.”

You nodded your head gently. 

“How…. How do you think dad will react?” Bram hesitantly met your gaze, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I-I don’t-I don’t want him to be angry with me, mom.”

“He’s your father, Bram. He’d never be angry at you for something like this.” You carefully squeezed his hand, not wanting to hurt him. 

“What-What if Andrei tells everyone? That’s-That’s just going to be another thing everyone gives him shit for.”

“You let your father handle that.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I can promise you he’ll fight anyone who says anything crass about you. You’re his son, his first born. He loves you, and nothing would ever change that.”

“He’ll be so disappointed in me.” Bram murmured quietly. “I’ll bring you all dishonor.”

“I promise you that there is nothing about you that could make him disappointed in you.” You hooked two fingers beneath his chin and tilted his head up so he would look at you. “As long as you are happy and as long as you are healthy, that’s all that matters.”

Bram gave you a little smile, one that made you smile. 

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

He nodded and stood to his feet. You did the same and without any warning, he embraced you. 

“Thank you, mom.” 

You squeezed him tight, almost afraid to let him go. 

“I’m your mother, Bram. If I turned you away for who you are, then I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

***

There was a hand on your knee that woke you up. You jolted, eyes immediately finding Geralt. He was knelt down in front of your chair, his hands sliding alongside the outsides of your thighs. 

You smiled at him at first, but then you noticed the furrow between his brows and the worry in his golden eyes. 

“What’s the matter?”

“You haven’t fallen asleep here since Lana came down with that cough three winters ago. Is something wrong?”

“Just…. Just wanted to wait for you.” You told him, eyes flickering over his face.

In the years you’d known him, he’d never truly shown his age. Thanks to the trials, he aged slower than humans. But in the last few years, wrinkles around his eyes had become more prominent and when he’d let his beard grow out, it was more gray than white. 

Right now was one of those times that he was letting it grow out. 

You smiled softly, reaching out to brush your fingers across the scratchy surface.

He placed his large hand on the back of yours, turning his head to kiss your palm. 

“How was your night out?”

Something that sounded like a grunt and a growl rumbled in his chest. He pulled away from you and stood up, shaking his head. 

“What happened?”

“Just…. just fucking tired of this town.”

“Did something happen?”

He shook his head again. He moved to go down the hallway, heading to be no doubt. 

You followed him. 

“Geralt?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, dove.”

“But it is if it ruined your night with your brothers.” You sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him undress. 

He stayed silent. 

“Was someone taunting you?”

“No.”

“Did Lambert start a fight?”

“No, dove.” He let out a heavy breath, forgetting about a shirt. He sat down on the bed just in front of you, rubbing his eyes. “The blacksmith’s son, that friend of Bram’s…. What was his name?” 

You paused for a second.

“Jackob’s son? His name is Andrei.” You messed with the hem of your shirt. 

Geralt nodded his head. 

“The boy came running into the tavern, squawking and squealing with blood running down his nose. I wasn’t concerned until I heard him mention Bram.”

You locked your jaw, fearing what you were about to hear. You knew this wasn’t what Bram wanted. He deserved to be able to tell his father himself. He deserved to have control over this. 

Geralt’s brows were drawn together as he looked down at the fire in the hearth. 

“He called Bram slurs and claimed to have seen him with another boy. Eskel had to pull me out of the tavern. I was ready to hurt the boy for saying such things about him- about Bram.”

Your stomach twisted and your throat itches. You looked down at where your fingers messed with the hem of your shirt. 

“Would it…. Would it be all that terrible though? If he was?” You whispered, losing your voice. You weren’t expecting this reaction from your husband and now you were second guessing everything you’d ever thought about him. “If-If Bram had been with another boy?” 

Geralt looked at you, concerned. 

“That isn’t what I was meaning, Y/N. I was furious that someone would call Bram- or anyone for that matter -such names just for who they’re with and for who they court.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. 

“Oh.”

Geralt was quiet, watching you carefully. 

“You know, don't you?” His voice was soft. 

You knew very well he could hear your heart racing. 

The White Wolf nodded his head softly, looking down at your hand. You were nervous. He reached over to take your hand and bring it to his lips. 

“Six years ago, when he was around ten.... I was gathering up his and Lana’s dirty clothes to be washed. Out of habit, I check their pockets. Remember when Bram would stuff cookies in his pockets and then forget about them?”

You laughed softly, nodding your head. He smiled too at the memory. 

“I found a folded up piece of parchment in his pocket. It was a little note he'd passed back and forth with another boy at school. It was just harmless little stuff they wrote to each other.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” You furrowed your brows.

“Because he would come to us whenever he was ready.” 

You nodded.

“I-I don't want him to think that I told you.” You moved to sit next to your husband, leaning against his shoulder. “I want him to come to you.”

“I want him to as well.” Geralt kissed the top of your head. “How did he tell you?”

“He told me he’d gotten into a fight with Andrei because Andrei caught him with Maverick.”

“Maverick.” Geralt repeated the name thoughtfully. 

“Mhm. Bram said he was worried about Andrei telling everyone in town and he was worried about everyone giving you trouble for it.”

“I'd like to see them try.” Geralt muttered under his breath. You rubbed his arm. “Was he…. Did he show any concern for my response?”

“He did.” You nodded, turning your head to kiss his bare shoulder. “But I assured him you'd love him no matter what.”

“Have I ever done anything to make him think otherwise?” 

“Not that I'm aware of.” You traced a prominent vein along his forearm. “But perhaps in the morning, if he feels he's ready to talk to you, you can ask and clear things up. Let him know that you're supportive of him.”

Geralt nodded his head. 

***

In the morning, the both of you were up before the sun rose. Geralt couldn’t sleep. He was too busy worrying over Bram. And you couldn’t rest knowing your husband was lying wide awake next to you. 

You made breakfast, humming as you moved around the kitchen. Lana had gotten up a while ago and went to do her usual morning routine, which was to make sure the animals outside had fresh water and that they had enough straw to keep them warm. 

“Is Bram awake?” You asked Geralt. He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea. 

He nodded softly, brows knitted together in a permanent frown. 

“Been awake for a couple of hours. He’s been pacing his room.”

You wiped your hands off on a rag and set it down on the counter. 

You went to Bram’s room and knocked on the door. 

“Bram? Are you awake, love?”

“You can open the door, mom.” He answered quietly. 

You pushed the door open and peered inside. 

Bram was just sitting down on the edge of his bed, broad shoulders slumped as he dropped his eyes to the floor. 

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little unwell?” You moved towards him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. 

“Just didn’t sleep good.” He muttered. “Is…. Is dad here?”

“He is. He’s out in the kitchen.” You combed your fingers through his unruly locks for a moment, trying to tame his hair. “I understand why you’re still upset, Bram, but you shouldn’t let it be the reason you’re losing sleep.”

He said nothing to you. 

“I love you, Julian Bram.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’ve got a loving and supportive family that will have your back no matter what path in life you chose, so long as you are safe and doing right by others. I need you to know this, dear son.”

“I do.” He whispered, shoulders trembling as he let out a breath. “I do, mom.”

“Good.” You smiled, pulling away from him. “Whenever you are ready, breakfast is waiting for you. Then I’m sure your sister would like some help mucking the stables afterwards.”

He groaned and rather dramatically threw himself back on to his bed.

You returned to the kitchen, a smile still playing on your lips. Geralt noticed this. 

“How is he?” He asked, though the witcher had listened to every word of the conversation. It wasn’t that he was trying to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. 

“He’ll be okay. Right now, he’s just in a tough spot.” You explained, stopping at your husband’s side to kiss him. 

***

Another half hour had passed. Lana sat at the kitchen table, just finished up her breakfast. 

“Can I go down to the river with a few friends, daddy?”

“Ask your mother, little dove.” Geralt said, golden eyes lifting from the bestiary on the table next to his plate. He looked at her for a brief moment before bringing his attention to you. 

“Mom?”

“After you help Bram clean the stalls.”

“What if I clean my half since he’s taking forever?” She bargained, quirking a brow up. 

“How about you go out and start and he can join you whenever he’s finished with his breakfast?” You tilted your head to the side a little, a little grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “It won’t kill you to wait for your brother, Lana. It’s not even noon yet.”

“Fine.” She sighed. 

You watched her leave through the front door. 

“She’s got your attitude.”

“I beg your pardon?” You brought your attention to your husband. 

The corner of his lips turned up a little. 

“That huff she did, the way she threw her shoulders down like it pained her to have to put her plans on hold, that’s exactly what you do when you’ve got something set in your mind and you can’t do it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. 

The door to Bram’s room clicked shut and you fell silent, wanting to listen carefully for him. 

He came around the corner a few moments later. The bruising on his face looked worse than last night. Underneath his eye was dark blue and black and it extended out to his cheek. 

“Good morning, sleepy.” You greeted him with a warm smile. “Would you like me to make you tea? I’ve got the kettle still warmed up.”

He nodded his head. 

“You look like you had a rough night.” Geralt commented. He didn’t let his gaze linger on Bram for too long. He turned to page in his bestiary and took a sip of tea. 

“I…. I didn’t…. get much rest.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his arm. “Um, can I…. Can I talk to you for a minute, dad?”

“Of course.” Geralt nodded his head. He closed his bestiary and gestured for Bram to sit down where Lana had previously been sitting. 

“Do you want me to leave, Bram?” You asked him. 

“No, mom. You can stay.” 

You nodded and continued to make his tea. 

Bram sat there for a few moments, wringing his hands together and chewing on the inside of his cheek. His stomach churned and the urge to vomit nearly overpowered the need to cry. 

Geralt watched his son for a few minutes, trying to think of a way to make this easier for him. 

“Dad, I-I don’t like…. I don’t like girls.” He murmured, keeping his eyes cast downwards. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Bram?” Geralt asked him. 

“That I’ll never- I’ll never be the son you want me to be. The perfect son. I’ll-I’ll never be able to carry on the family name.” He ran a hand over his face to quickly wipe away the tears on his cheeks. 

“You are exactly the son I want you to be, Bram.” Geralt spoke as he reached over to place his hand on Bram’s shoulder. The boy furrowed his brows together, looking up at Geralt. 

“You aren't…. You aren't ashamed of me? That I…. I'm….?”

“Nothing in this world can make me ashamed of you, son. You're strong-willed, and you have a sense of what is right and what isn't. You're a bright boy with a good future ahead of you. Who you love doesn't effect that.”

Bram nodded his head. His eyes flickered down to the table in front of him. 

You moved to place his tea in front of him. You rubbed his back and leaned down to kiss his head. 

“We love you.” Your words were whispered against his hair. 

“Now, who did you let put those bruises on your face?” Geralt asked, effectively shifting the mood. “I hope they ended up worse.”

“They did.” Bram nodded, a little grin coming to his lips. “Knocking him square in his ass.”

“You'll have to show me how it happened later on after you help your sister. I’ll give you some pointers on how to prevent them from getting you in the face like that.”

“He only caught me once or twice, dad.”

“Sure had me fooled.”

You smiled as you moved to make Bram a plate.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish @thanks-bruh-for-nothing @maan2442 @thegaydeath @creatingstuffinpeace @wellthisstinks @andyrazzledazzle @crazybutconfidentaf @runawayolives @she-wolfoftheinquisition @onlygeraltofrivia @vonxcon @thefirelordm @henrythickcavill @maan2442 @lharrietg @wellthisstinks

[one-boring-person]

Hiya! I had a Top Gun request! Could you maybe right something where the reader barely makes it back from a dangerous mission, and immediately she’s comforted by Ice, Mac, Goose, kind of all the guys when she gets back? Thank you so much!

Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it!💛💛💛❤

(I've given the reader the call sign Strike, but if you want me to change it, I'm more than happy to do so😊💛)

That Was One Close Call.

Top Gun characters x reader

(Maverick, Goose, Iceman, Slider)

Warnings: violence, in-flight combat

Masterlist

"Can anyone actually see these bogeys yet?" Slider questions through the mics, voice sounding bored, though there is a distinct undertone of confusion running through it.

One by one, the rest of us, Maverick, Goose, Iceman, Arrow (my RIO) and I, deny having seen any other jets in the area, all of us flying in formation as we head to the designated area, eyeing the clear expanse of sky suspiciously as we go, making sure to pick up on any movement at all. Currently, after a good twenty minutes of flying, we've had no sightings, picking nothing up on the radars, our RIOs not spitting anything amiss in the skies around us, our actions now cautious rather than confident. Nerves race through my veins, a feeling I haven't had in months, my fingers tightening minutely around the joystick in my grasp, the jet adjusting in the air accordingly as I accidentally steer it into a different path, sweat coating my brow thanks to the sweltering confines of the cockpit, my breaths short and fast in my mouthpiece.

Just as I go to talk again, a sharp beep interrupts me, my radar having finally picked up on something, a small green dot appearing on the screen, moving rapidly towards us.

"You guys seeing this?" Maverick inquires, having clearly seen the same thing I have.

"Yeah, we got a mig on our six, moving very quickly. They're nearly o-" I go to reply only to cut off abruptly when the controls in front of me start going off, signifying that I'm under missile lock, and in great danger, the jet having closed in on us much faster than we thought it would.

"Get us out of here, Strike! They're right behind us!" Arrow speaks up, voice shrill with fear as the hulking shapes of the enemy jets drop from the sky behind us: eight much faster, more manouverable aircrafts with a higher firepower than ours, putting us at a severe disadvantage.

"I'm trying!" I bite back, annoyed that he didn't spot the bogeys on our tail sooner, having now put us in jeopardy. Gritting my teeth against the pressure forcing us into our seats, I sharply pull our jet around into a tight banking motion, inadvertently putting it into a dizzying barrel roll as I go, aiming to get out of range of their missiles, only to start in surprise and shock when gunfire suddenly pelts the side of plane. Instantly, the left engine starts smoking, the controls going crazy before me, Arrow panickedly contacting with the others, radioing for help from the carrier. Adrenaline starts to kick in, suppressing the terror and panic flooding my mind, prompting me to switch off the affected engine, knowing it will slow us down, but will also prevent us from blowing up too soon, swiftly dragging the hindered aircraft into a tight ascent, praying that I'll make it past them before they can react to me, though I know it's futile.

Yet more gunfire tears into the metal of the exterior of the jet, Arrow's only reaction now being to yell for help, helmet banging against the glass as he looks up to check the damage.

"They hit the canopy! We won't last much longer at this rate!" From my place ahead of him, I can tell he's shifting around very quickly, trying his best to gauge where the bogeys are, though he is struggling considerably, what with the migs flying at a mug faster speed, diving in and out of view, "Maverick, Iceman, where are you?!"

"They're keeping us away from you! We can't get any closer without being shot!" Goose calls back, clearly frustrated.

"Same here. Until we can get past, you're on your own." Iceman agrees grimly, the pilot sounding angry at this turn of events.

"I don't know how long we'll last like this!" I manage out as I drop the nose of the jet into a sudden dive, falling past a few of the attacking bogeys as I go, only to suddenly realise that the right engine has also been hit, the flames petering out. At this revelation, panic explodes within me, my hands instantly pulling at the joystick, trying to flick on the emergency engines to stop us from plummeting to our deaths.

Our speed continues to increase, the jet dropping faster and faster as the sea grows ever closer, Arrow screaming at me to pull up, the aircraft unwilling to shift into a more level track as the momentum carries us down. Unable to think of anything better, I slam on the air brakes, jerking the joystick around to the left, yelping as I'm thrown against the side of my seat. Responding to my actions, the aircraft rolls ungracefully into an untidy barrel roll, the world spinning before our eyes as we finally level out again, the right engine finally giving out completely as we continue to glide along the now ridiculously close ocean. Nausea rises up my throat, but it is overwhelmed by the brief sense of relief, my mood instantly dampened again as the emergency lights continue to blare loudly, notifying me of the imminent danger I'm in. The sound of Slider's voice over the mics cuts through suddenly, though I barely register what is being said due to my concentration being entirely in trying not to lose more altitude.

"We got one down, wait, no, two down!" The RIO informs us, grateful to be the bearer of good news.

Shaken, I don't manage a reply, my focus now completely on the fact that there is a bogey swiftly catching up to us, missiles ready to be released.

"We got our two down, too." Maverick reports, Goose assenting this seconds later.

"We need help!" Arrow finally speaks up, having noticed that I am apparently incapable of saying anything.

"We're on our way!" The others respond, only too happy to help.

Another, more shrill alarm starts ringing in my ears, the tone dreadfully familiar: we're running out of fuel.

"Guys, we're in serious trouble here, we've got to get back soon!" Arrow informs the others, having noticed the same thing as me, checking the gauge with apprehension.

My pulse pounds in my ears, creating a white noise I can barely hear over, dark spots starting to dance at the edge of my vision as I realise the gravity of the situation, tremors going up and down my body as it struggles to remain upright, fingers locked tightly around the joystick.

"...we got another two down, the rest are going home. We need to get back now!" A voice somewhere says, but I don't quite register it, only just managing to keep the jet above the sea line now.

It's only when Arrow places a hand on my shoulder that I snap out of my reverie, instinctually pulling the jet up again, using an uplifting air current to lift us a little higher, back into the safe zone. Wordlessly, I guide the aircraft back to the carrier, only just grazing the runway as I land it, the wires thankfully catching us as we threaten to hurtle over the edge again. I taxi the jet into a stationary position, hands still shaking as I try to unclasp the canopy, fingers fumbling with the security measures, the broken window sliding back as I finally manage it, my body heaving itself out of the cockpit and onto the runway. Once on solid ground (ish) I make it all of three steps, before I collapse to my knees, Arrow instantly at my side.

"Strike? Are you ok? (Y/n)?" The RIO interrogates me, crouching beside me, arm around my shoulders.

"What happened?! " Maverick's concerned voice is loud in my ears as he, Goose, Ice and Slider all rush over, the rest of them having noticed my residence on the floor. Immediately, the four of them are on the floor around me, helmets discarded on the concrete behind them as they start fussing over me. I feel my helmet being taken off, my body being pulled into a larger, more muscular one, the smell of peppermint and sweat clearly belonging to Iceman, a scent which had always made me feel safe, his arms cradling me against his chest as he strokes my back, trying to get a response out of me. When he pulls away, he looks me in the eye, at which point I finally lose it, tears flooding from the corners of my eyes, sobs wracking my body as I bury my face into my hands, barely noticing as Maverick moves closer, whispering sweet nothings as he rubs my back soothingly. Both Goose and Slider sit there a little awkwardly at first, before they swiftly move forwards to help, the former pushing my hair from my face as the latter takes my hand in his, neither of them saying anything, though they have ready smiles for me when I look up at them. When I catch sight of them, a small smile of my own pushes at my lips, the corners quirking up a little, the expression slowly growing as Goose grins at me in relief.

"There she is!" He comments, patting my knee appreciatively, eyes glittering happily.

"I'm gonna have to start calling you The Invincible One at this rate. That was one close call!" Slider jokes, trying to cheer me up with his usual brash humour.

"Suits you." Goose adds, nodding at me.

"No it doesn't." I manage to say, my voice hoarse and rough from my crying, still smiling at them.

"Are you joking? Of course it does!" Slider protests, grin broadening as I laugh. Maverick and Iceman exchange a glance over the top of my head, the former moving to stand up. Looking down at us, he offers me his hand with a smile of his own, easily pulling me up (even if it is with a bit of Iceman's help), steadying me against his chest.

"Come on, you'll feel better after a shower." He says to me, vending over to pick up our helmets from the floor, the others quickly moving to join us as we walk towards the changing rooms. As we walk, Slider wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his taller body a little, the sense of safety that accompanies this making me feel better about myself. By now, Arrow has already moved to the changing rooms, preferring to face difficulties alone, rather than with us, the RIO clearly trusting the others to do a good job of comforting me, which, of course, they have.

[joonsdiary]

jamais vu (m)

↳ noun | the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time.

                                                                                            (are you the remedy to my broken heart?)

pairing: jungkook | reader | taehyung genre: slice of life au, acquaintances to friends (to lovers?) au // heaps of angst, a tiny bit of smut, a sprinkle of fluff word count: 13,4k

— warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, hints of gaslighting, mild descriptions of a panic attack, themes of infidelity, sexual intercourse (protected penetrative sex, implied female masturbation) 

— note: mildly inspired by the films lost in translation and ocean waves, as well as jamais vu by bts (hence the title). some concepts were derived from my wip list, so in a way this was my remedy for the writer’s block i was having while writing ‘worth fighting for’. i hope in one way or another it can be your remedy, too. (p.s. despite being inspired by lost in translation, i haven’t actually seen the film so this won’t be exactly like that adkjhsd)

— playlist: carry me home - jorja smith ft. maverick sabre / sweet insomnia - gallant ft. 6lack / drew barrymore - sza / run - joji / truth is - sabrina claudio / bath - offonoff / ghostin - ariana grande / ... etc!

     There’s something thrilling about sitting in the backseat of a car past midnight, windows rolled down as the driver chases the destination planted on her navigation device. You welcome the cool breeze that tangles your hair into an uncomfortable mess, as it only helps propel your heart rate faster. Inhaling slowly allows you to savour the musky scent of the earth shortly after being bathed with rainwater; if this is what freedom tastes like, you wish to savour as much of it as you could.

Eventually, the exhilaration wears down as the city lights blur into a cacophony of colours. It’s incoherent and indiscernible, yet it possesses the ability to lull you into a dream-like state. You had the utmost privilege of plugging your phone into the aux cord, therefore the familiar voice of your recently played songstress croons softly against the speaker, filling the cold, void spaces in between. Your heavy eyelids fall into an accustomed pattern, gradually flickering until it closes shut.

Sleep beckons; fatigue welcomes you into the abyss, and you embrace it with open arms.

Well, almost.

“Can you roll the windows up? It’s freezing,” he mumbles as he sinks further down the leather chair. You jolt awake at his sudden announcement, but he doesn’t apologize for disturbing your calmness.

“Hm? Yeah, of course,” your fingers scramble to find the right button to press until the tempered glass lifts, shielding you away from the busy city. You want to argue that it’s not even that cold, but he scoots closer towards you, tugging on your left arm before burying his head in the crook of your neck.

A wistful sigh escapes your lips and you turn to place a quick kiss on his crown. You immediately understand the exhaustion that plagues you both, brought about by the time difference between the country you came from and the one you’re currently visiting. You glance out the window once more as your thumb plays with the golden band on your ring finger.

Seoul is beautiful. The city itself is alive, evident by the way the summer stars in the night sky are dimmed by the light that emits from the numerous buildings and towers that create Seoul’s skyline. Looking at it from above while on a plane is similar to peeking at a telescope to view a galaxy far away, dotted by billions of brilliant stars. But despite the breathtaking aerial view, nothing feels more intimate than weaving through its streets.

Although you can tell its old roads are recently refurbished, unsurprisingly, which buries any inkling of familiarity beneath the cold cement. Despite you knowing the place, there’s still something different about it, like buying a new laptop to replace the old one. The specs are guaranteed to be exactly like its predecessor, but the fact that it comes in a sleek box, still unspoiled and untouched, fascinates you all the same. It begs to be used until you’re so attached to it that you refuse to part ways even just for a singular moment. That’s what defines Seoul for you.

But the city can wait. There will be plenty of opportunities to explore and rekindle your love affair with the town you once called your home. For now, your reason for being lays cradled within your arms, encapsulated within the bubble you desperately wish would stay intact, unmarred by the destructive forces of reality.

Although those illusions of fantasy can only take you so far. The fragility of your relationship is beginning to materialize into a spectre, its gaunt face haunting you in every corner you look. There’s no escaping the truth as it will, without a fail, catch you in one form or the other.

“What are you thinking about?” he hums lazily, soft breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“Just excited to finally be back after so long.”

“That’s right, you moved away long before I did.”

“Mhm.”

The discussion flickers out of existence, whose life is shorter than that of a fire in measly matchstick. You aren’t much of a conversationalist, and you appreciate that neither is he. Is that the defining trait that convinced you to marry the man sitting next to you three years ago? Perhaps. You like that he gives you the time and space to bask in your thoughts when you need it, even if there are moments where you’d like nothing more than to connect with him like you used to.

“I miss you,” slips out before you’re able to hold your tongue back. But you don’t scramble to reclaim the words like you usually do, followed by an apologetic I didn’t mean it like that. You let the phrase simmer, hoping it will soak him to the bones enough that it becomes his wake up call.

But, “I’m right here,” is all he says.

The him-of-past would have cradled your face in his big hands, turned you so that you’re face to face before he makes a silly face that will make you laugh. He’ll say you’re being silly for even thinking of such thoughts when he’s always been by your side, and forever will be. It will follow one chaste kiss, then a second, and before you could blink his limbs will tangle with yours, hearts beating fast but in unison, nonetheless.

“I know,” you murmur.

Perhaps he believes it’s enough that he’s there beside you, physically. Perhaps it’s wise to presume the same. It’s only wishful thinking to expect otherwise, after all.

    Jungkook believes he’s a creature of habit. Or, he used to be, at least.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with falling into a certain pattern in life, especially at his age; God knows he needs a stable rock to hold on to so he doesn’t get carried away by the raging currents of the river.

But it had only been once upon a time where he enjoyed such endeavours; waking up, coming down to work, going back up to bathe, before finally retiring to bed. Yes, he’ll find pockets of time to eat meals, of course. Days come when he has the freedom to choose to go to the gym, instead, so his life isn’t completely mundane. There’s a nuance to such life, and he always aspires to have the propensity and the undeterred tenacity to stick to such a strict regimen.

However, days began to bleed into each other with the same shade of grey, indiscernible and incomprehensible. It’s not necessarily a lousy experience because he never felt starved or threatened out of his home. Life for him is like cruising down the endless highway, foot off the gas but going at one hundred kilometres per hour all the same. The figures he passes by become obscured by the speed he’s going at, but at the very least he’s still heading somewhere.

It’s only recently he’s fully realized the futility of his mundane schedule. She’d told him so.

“Don’t you want to break away from all of that? From your parents’ expectations of you?” her voice comes softly through the phone. His moments together with her are often brief and hurried, their conversations cut short by external forces acting upon them both. It’s dinnertime for him, but she has to drop the call in order to catch the early bus for work. Such a prick, time and distance can be.

(Perhaps, he now looks back and thinks to himself, they’re merely trying to find more reason to converse less with each other. Since when did it start, the feeling of obligation?)

“Are you suggesting that I—”

She says yes without letting him finish his sentence.

So he finds vigour in his life once more as he throws himself into his work, constantly propelled forwards by the need to meet an end goal: Save up enough to be able to move halfway across the world. To see her. To be with her.

But the respite is brief, however.

The more money is stored in his bank account, the less he thinks of the idea as brilliant. Is he ready to uproot his life from the only home he knows to move in with somebody he has only met through the screen of his phone?

Looking at the bigger picture, nothing else has changed in his life. He needs a true break; a real step back from a routine that is numerous years in the making.

Having sex with a stranger in a random motel seems like a good way to go about it, he thinks.

Several hours prior, his friends asked him to go out drinking with them. Jungkook, who rarely makes time for such occurrences, naturally agrees, surprising the very same acquaintances that invited him. At that point he believes they’re only asking to be polite, not having the courage to kick him out of an old group chat formed during their college days. They never expected him to say yes then, and they didn’t until now.

Countless bottles of beer and a few shots of liquor later, he’s fumbling with the zipper of his tight jeans. The woman, whose name he didn’t have the courtesy of asking, giggles as she rises from the bed to approach him.

Mistake number one.

“Do you need help, love?”

He fumbles through his words, unable to form a coherent thought. It’s not that he’s completely inexperienced — although the woman probably thinks he is by the way he acts — it’s just that, admittedly, it’s been a good while since he’d had sex with anybody. Add the nervousness to his inebriated state, and he’s got himself in quite the dilemma.

Mistake number two.

“I’m guessing you like them tight,” the woman points out.

“Huh?” his head whips towards the woman, eyes wide and mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Your jeans, I mean.”

The woman chuckles once again as he attempts to peel the fabric off his skin. “Wasn’t really planning on this, that’s why.”

Mistake number three.

“But you have this,” an inconspicuous packet is pulled from his back pocket. Jungkook merely grins sheepishly in response. The woman kneels as she grips his underwear but he grabs her hand and pulls her up instead, crashing her body into his. He recalls her murmuring something about getting straight to the point, but he’s unsure if the woman meant it as a complaint or a compliment. He didn’t bother asking to elaborate, because none of this is even supposed to happen.

Mistake number four.

Guilt bubbles from within his chest, gnawing at every nook and cranny of his consciousness.

Mistake number five.

He’d have to tell her sooner rather than later. It would be fucking shitty of him not to. But before he has the time to steer clear of trouble and save himself from potentially ruining the only good thing he has going in his life, the woman’s lips are on him. There’s no going back now, he assumes.

Mistake number six, seven, eight.

Nine: His kiss feels famished as he drinks in each quiet moan that comes out of the woman’s lips. Every second feels reinvigorating like he’s sitting in front of the roller coaster as the ride pauses before the first drop. When the wheels turn and roll against the metal railroad track, he stumbles back and falls into the bed. He’s here for the thrill, which would bring the total up to ten so far.

Eleven is when he watches the woman slip the condom with ease, sheathing him. His presumed experience she possesses excites him further; that is number twelve.

He loses count when she traps him between her knees as she licks two of her fingers at once, before hiking up her skirt.

Jungkook wants to laugh at his lack of perceptiveness. Tactless when it comes to asking for the woman’s name; even more inadequate and impolite not to think about prepping her.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, head tilting to the side as wisps of her hair fall across her face as she grinds herself against him. He bites back a moan as he looks away from her. It probably would be best not to tell her. He then catches his reflection in the mirror, and despite the dimmed lights he could outline the expression he’s making; a reflection of someone unrecognizable.

“There’s a mirror,” he pauses as she gets a hold of him, her warmth enveloping him as she slowly sinks onto him. His hips jerk seemingly involuntarily in response, and she groans, tossing her head backwards. He forgets to speak altogether. The woman does the same, opting to mumble profanity, instead.

Jungkook wishes to hide the shame and guilt, the wrongfulness, the missed opportunities to say no. Is his need to feel something other than the heaviness of his heart worth all the pain he’s about to put not only himself but the person he wishes to spend the rest of his life with?

And so he buries himself deeper before denial could even stake a claim in the vast expanse of his thoughts. If to forget is to lose himself in the pleasure of someone else’s company, then he’ll desperately seek the ecstasy he’s craved for so long until he’ll see stars beneath the darkness of his eyelids.

His breathing is no longer erratic when he comes into consciousness.

“That was good,” she breathes out softly, and he turns in time to watch her brown eyes disappear from view.

“I have to go.”

He gets up from the bed and begins to move on autopilot, picking up his discarded clothes one by one. The woman immediately sits up and asks with an evident frown on her face, “Already? Didn’t you have fun?”

The corners of his lips are pulled upwards into a grin. “It’s for work.”

“At this hour? It’s almost one.”

“Midnight shift.”

When he’s dressed, he hesitates at the foot of the bed, shifting weight from one leg to the other. He’s never been the best with words, and his unexpectedly expected tryst with a stranger leaves him at a loss for what to say. It doesn’t help that the woman refuses to meet gaze with him.

I wouldn’t want to look at me either, he thinks bitterly to himself.

“Thank you for your time. I hope to see you around,” his half-truth is enough to pluck a rueful smile from her lips.

The bus ride back home is the longest one Jungkook thinks he’s taken ever since he moved to Seoul.

    You watch as Taehyung lazily drags his feet behind him each step he takes towards the bed and breakfast place you decided to rent. The cicadas chatter loudly as if to cheer him on. A few more steps, they urge.

“Come on, Taehyung,” you groan from above the stairs, already reaching the top long before he does. “I’m about to pass out, too. But can we do it once we get to the bed?”

“I’m literally, like, dead,” you can’t help the roll of your eyes at his dramatic statement. But you hold your tongue back at any other snide comments that might offend him further. Patience is the key with him, always. Complaining to him, as you did earlier, will only force him to act against your wishes.

He reaches the top with a huff and a hand on his bent knees, handing you the duffel bag that’s filled to the brim with your clothes and his.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” is your attempt at making the situation lighthearted and less serious than it needs to be.

“Still should have booked a hotel, instead,” his nose scrunches in obvious dismay.

“For the last time, I thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” gone is the Taehyung of previous, whose tiredness begins with softness around his personality. It’s not unusual for him to get cranky after being jet-lagged. But hey, guess what, so are you!

You ignore him for fear of escalation as you make your way inside. A quiet chime of the bell signals your arrival, and your gaze meets a familiar set of doe eyes; someone you knew once upon a time in a place you can pinpoint exactly. His expression mirrors that of your surprised one as he tries to figure you out. It wouldn’t surprise you if he doesn’t recognize you as you did him.

It’s Taehyung who breaks your state of bewitchment when his shoulder bumps into your arms as he jogs towards the receiving desk.

“Hey, stranger! How long has it been?” Taehyung exclaims a little too loudly, his state of disarray seemingly vanishing in a flash. With the roll of your luggage as a guide, you follow after him, standing nimbly behind the shadow of his confidence.

“Since we graduated high school? Probably ten years,” he says humorously.

“That long, huh? Damn.”

They fall into a small talk which is somewhat out of sync, which is understandable considering the amount of time they haven't been in contact with each other. No matter how close they had been during their teenage years, some words are hard to come by more than others.

He suddenly calls your name out in a greeting, and you peak over Taehyung’s shoulder with a small wave of your hand. “Hey, Jungkook.”

His smile is gentle, and your mood shifts entirely.

“Are you back here on a trip?”

It’s clear the question was directed to you, but Taehyung absolves you the courtesy of answering. “Actually, it’s a work-related thing. She wanted to tag along.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” you say with a strained chuckle, and Jungkook glances between you and Taehyung.

“Ah, I see. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair,” he slides a pair of keys in your direction. “It’s well past midnight, so I’m sure you guys are tired from your flight.”

Taehyung snatches it up, and it falls into the pocket of his slacks with a soft jingle. He thanks him with enthusiasm before turning towards the direction of the elevator.

“Hope I see you around. Have good night.”

Something about your greeting has Jungkook’s eyebrows creasing in discomfort for a split second before he gives you a small nod. “I’ll be here if you need anything else.”

But he isn’t there to greet patrons by the next morning when you go down for your complimentary breakfast. Taehyung did not join you, opting for an extended hour of sleep. You didn’t mind, but you couldn’t lay aimless in bed for too long; you’ve always been a morning person, after all.

So you sit by your lonesome in the vast dining area, surrounded by an old couple in one corner and a young family of four in the other. The two children fight for the last remaining pancake while the parents share a hushed discussion. You glance down at your warm abalone porridge.

There was a time when you imagined such a life with Taehyung—a family you can call your own. Of course, it’s by no means too late for you; at the tender age of twenty-eight, you know that life still has a lot to offer. But approaching three years into your marriage, Taehyung does not present any hints of wanting such a future with you. Sure, the topic has been brought about occasionally, but never serious enough to be considered anything but a passing daydream.

“I hate to break it to you, but that soup isn’t going to give you the answers to your most pressing question, even if you stare at it like that.”

You look up to see Jungkook wearing an amused expression, carrying a plastic bag on his right hand. He follows your trail of gaze and lifts the item into view.

“I might have raided the kitchen before my shift is over. Don’t tell a single soul,” his gaze holds differently, but the smile he wears is the same one from his youth.

“Cross my heart,” you humour him, and his grin grows wider. “Have a safe trip home.”

His nose wrinkles in contemplation. “If you mean be careful going up the stairs to my room, then sure, I will.”

Your brows lift in confusion, “You rent here?”

“You could say that. I own this place,” the chair scrapes against the tiled floors as he welcomes himself into your bubble. “Well, sort of. My parents own this, but my older brother and I manage it.”

“You should have said so earlier!” you chuckle, placing your chin on your palm as you turn to face him. “I would have asked for a discount.”

“Ouch, this is exactly why I didn’t do that in the first place. It’s opportunists like you that I’m terrified of.”

“Okay, Richie Rich, I knew you were always a selfish prick even then.”

“Hah!” he exclaims, leaning closer. “I’m well aware of my reputation back then, and none of them was ‘selfish’. In fact, there was always a lot of me to go around.”

“I highly doubt that, somehow.”

“You wouldn’t know,” he says in a casual tone while crossing his arms in front of his chest. He gives you a knowing look. “You were always with Taehyung.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” you mumble against your palm, your voice growing quiet. Your ring suddenly feels heavy on your finger.

“Mhm, that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard you two got married a few years back. In another country, no less. Congratulations, by the way,” his tone softens, mirroring your sudden predisposition for a hushed conversation.

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile. “Married life is…”

“Different?” he offers, and you nod wordlessly. You would’ve chosen a different word for it, but you’re glad he finished the sentence for you. “All my other friends who’re in the same situation say so.”

“And you?”

He wears the same troubled expression from hours ago, but only for a brief moment. He mimics your posture as his face lights up with the biggest smile you’ve seen him wear. You know that expression; there was a point in time where you’d wear the same elated look when someone asks you about Taehyung.

“Long-distance. But we’ve been together for a couple of years,” he hesitates briefly, before continuing. “I’m leaving in less than two weeks to move in with her.”

“Where to?”

He reveals the name in a hushed tone, almost as if it’s meant to stay a secret between the two of you.

Your eyes widen with bewilderment, and he grins sheepishly. “Wow, that’s—”

“Halfway across the world? I know.”

It’s only when there’s a pause that you realize what your intended purpose is. So you dig a spoonful of the soup and chase the heat away with a quick blow before taking a quick bite.

“You’re really here just to tag along with Taehyung?”

You look at him in surprise, not expecting the subject to be brought out once again. “Not really. We um…”

You hesitate, unsure whether to share your thoughts or not. But Jungkook is neither a friend nor a stranger and is possibly the perfect candidate. There’s nothing that binds you to him and in a few weeks, you’d be back to being strangers. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember your story.

“We didn’t really have an official honeymoon after our marriage, and this was supposed to be it,” you chuckle, trying to play the situation off nonchalantly. “He sort of double-booked because he couldn’t turn down this gig.”

“That seems shitty, to be honest.”

You’re taken aback by the ruggedness of his tone, and you immediately jump to defend Taehyung. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve been back home.”

“Yeah, you missed out on our high school reunion just by a month,” his aura is lighthearted once more, and you’re glad for it.

“You went?”

“Nah, there was nothing good to reminisce about high school.”

You turn to him with your mouth agape. “This is coming from the captain of the football team, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, come on, stop with the teasing,” he says as he rolls his shoulder back, before clearing his throat. “It just so happened that I was good at kicking. And running. And scoring goals.”

Undeterred by his boasting, you give him a sly smirk. “I’m sure you revelled in the attention. There was enough of you to get around, you said?”

“Now you get it.”

You giggle and he laughs along with you. The interaction gives you a certain heaviness within your chest but at the same time, you feel lightheaded, almost as if you’re about to soar towards the heavens.

“I should go catch some sleep,” he says once your euphoria dies down. “I’ve had a long evening.”

“I’ll let you get to it, then,” you say almost wistfully. He mumbles a quiet later! and you allow your gaze to follow his movement.

“Don’t get lost on your way.”

He looks back and motions a mock salute. “I’ll come knocking on your door if I need help with directions.”

However, three days go by without seeing Jungkook; not in his usual spot at the entrance of the building, and nowhere near the kitchen or the lounge area. Although you weren’t looking for him by any means because Taehyung constantly kept you busy, dragging you from place to place to take cityscape photos for his client. Despite the constant travelling, it’s hard to enjoy the scenery when the affair appears to be completely one-sided.

There’s no mistaking the fact you’re extremely proud and gratified that Taehyung pours his heart and soul into each project he throws himself at. But would it hurt that much for him to point his lenses towards your direction even just once? Surely, your whole trip will not consist of you constantly waiting on him.

He must’ve noticed your affliction because suddenly the weight of his stare begins to feel heavier each quiet second that passes.

“Bored yet?” he asks, left hand on the wheel and the other placed on the knob to change the car’s gear. Your eyes flit back to him and his right palm opens for you to take. With your fingers interlocked, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

It’s difficult to harbour resentment towards him when he makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter with merely the tiniest of gestures.

“With you? Never.”

He chuckles, and you feel the rumbling of his chest as he presses the back of your hand against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat doesn’t match your erratic, nervous one.

“Hm, you should have said yes. I was going to save you of having to come with me later,” his tone is playful, and a small smile adorns his flushed lips.

“What’s happening later?” you shift in the passenger seat to face him.

“The dinner with Min, my client. I told you, remember?”

You carefully sift through your mind regarding your recent conversations with him. You recall them being short and clipped, sure, but none told you of a certain meeting with somebody else. So, you tell him in earnest, “No.”

“I’m sure you’re just forgetting,” his grip on you loosens, and you reclaim your hand before it falls on his lap.

No, you’re one-hundred-percent certain you would remember something as important as that. Yet you don’t tell him so and instead, you yield with a wordless nod.

“You mean to tell me you’re going to miss out on having takeout dinner with me?” you ask, attempting to humour him, but your tone mistakenly comes out tasting bitter on your tongue. The silence that ensues sears into your brain like the afternoon Seoul sun, prickly and scorching hot to the touch.

“You can come with, if that’s what you want. I’ll tell you in advance that it’s going to be boring, though, since we’re going to talk about work.”

Somewhere along the line, you presume Taehyung has developed the proclivity towards telling pretence with a straight face. It catches you off guard when you join him for the much-anticipated dinner that he apparently told you about. It’s not the fact that “Min” turns out to be a woman — you have no qualms about that. Taehyung is somebody who could make acquaintances with somebody while waiting in line for their prescription in a pharmacy. Rather, it’s the way he prepped you for the oncoming conversation or your lack of inclusion in any of them, for that matter.

Introductions aside, you found her to be amicable and friendly. But afterwards, you fell behind two steps as they divulged into a topic other than work. Despite the premise that the chat would be boring, Taehyung is deeply engrossed in whichever story she decided to share. You didn’t have quite the energy to match theirs, so instead of playing catch up, you decided to stop walking altogether. You watch as their figures grow smaller on the horizon, not even bothering to look back and ask if you’d like to join them.

She laughs at something Taehyung says and automatically reaches to grab his arm as she giggles along with him. When she makes eye contact with you, instinct tells you to force a smile. And you did, uncaring if she perceives your gesture to be nothing but utter bullshit.

You busy yourself with studying the restaurant instead as you pensively wait for food to be served. The dim lights of the room create a warm ambience — romantic, almost.

The gears in your brain stop turning as they click into place. Your pulse gums with vigour as you feel the sweat seeping through the pores of your palms. Suddenly, the vast expanse of the dining hall feels suffocating; there’s no room for you. To breathe, to feel, to be.

“I’ve got to go.”

You suddenly feel lightheaded as you begin seeing multiples of dark spots, clouding your vision. The floor caving beneath you, and you struggle to keep afloat.

“What?” Taehyung looks at you with wide eyes but makes no move to hold you back from gathering your things.

“I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend today,” you say with self-assurance, miming the same expression he wore when he lied: I told you, remember?

Taehyung stands when you move away from the table and hope blooms dangerously in your chest; your wish for him to hold you back and stop you from leaving begins to permeate.

(Though in hindsight, you should have known better.)

“I’ll call a cab for you.”

    Static fills the void, and for the first time in his life, Jungkook fears the silence rather than basking in it. He’s unsure when his words began to fail him; is it because he’s nervous he’ll slip up and say the wrong thing? Truly, at this point, being seen as the bad guy should be the least of his concerns.

Because as far as any human with a functioning brain thinks, he’s already fucked up in more ways than one. There’s no returning from the level of hell he’s put himself in.

“Are you still there?”

Her voice is patient, but he can tell she’s apprehensive.

“Uh, yes—just, thinking.”

There’s a brief pause before an accusatory, “Look, if you’re having second thoughts then maybe it’s too early.”

He immediately leaps from the couch of the empty lounge area. It’s a little past eleven at night, so everyone is either already in their rooms or out enjoying the city, which gives Jungkook a leg room for privacy.

“What? No, that’s not it!”

Two years isn’t too damn early. He feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime; tired of the time difference, tired of the distance, tired of being deprived of touch. Tired of the same old city, with the same predictable people. Everything around him is starting to feel foreign; the steps that lead to the bed and breakfast lodging, the corner street that sells the best tteokbokki he’s ever tasted in his life, the crosswalk that has malfunctioning lights which should be a public safety hazard but at this point he thinks will never be fixed. It’s all mundane, cycling through the same wheel of routine.

He no longer wants to feel apathetic when he faces his future while he houses resentment on his present self milling around aimlessly. She’s his only ticket to escape, so he better stop fucking around and tell her the truth.

But where to begin?

“Listen, I—”

“Whatever it is, can you please just say it? I’m leaving for work soon.”

He takes two steps back, for fear of retribution. Is he ready to ruin the entirety of her day?

“Never mind. I’ll talk to you later. Have a great day at work.”

She heaves a sigh, and preemptively ends the call.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he mumbles as he stares at his phone with her name printed in big letters across the screen. He contemplates pressing the call button and finally telling her everything—her work be damned. He knows that he owes her the truth at the very least.

But you come barrelling down the door, barefoot as you clutch your heels safely between your armpit. You’re dressed formally, yet casual enough for a nice dinner outside plenty of Seoul’s restaurants. But the slight stutter in your step and your somewhat dishevelled hair tells Jungkook all he needs to know. He doesn’t have to hazard a guess.

“Jungkook!” you raise your arms as you exclaim, and the wooden floor welcomes your shoes with a loud thud. “It’s been so long. What are you doing here?”

He laughs, not because of your deeply inebriated state, but because of your inquiry. What the hell am I doing here? He’s been asking himself that very same question without an answer in sight for a while now.

Though he doesn’t have time to answer because you almost knock him over when you skid over to wrap your arms around his neck. His senses are overwhelmed with the pungent smell of liquor, mixed with a subtle hint of rose water.

“I miss you.”

Jungkook is perplexed by your brutal honesty, to say the least. Though he knows to excuse any action while somebody is foolishly drunk, so long as they are not harming anybody or themselves. You grow quiet, and Jungkook is about to ask where you’ve been when he feels dampness on the front of his button-up shirt. He looks down and sees you visibly shaking, before grabbing at his sleeves seemingly for physical support.

It’s when you ask, with conviction, “Why did you hold me back?” that he realizes you aren’t referring to him. So, he wordlessly wraps his arms around you as he pats your back reassuringly. He doesn’t mind that you began sobbing louder, not even when a guest comes through the door and gives him a perplexed expression. He simply nods in their direction as a form of acknowledgement before giving a tight-lipped smile.

When minutes pass and Taehyung doesn’t arrive, he puts two and two together and concludes that he had to be the reason. His heart squeezes painfully as you attempt to swallow a sob which ends up sounding more agonizing and hollowed, carrying with them the weight of all the sorrow you’ve seemingly piled up.

When your cries are reduced to soft hiccups, you pull away from him with a quiet apology. Jungkook shakes his head as he places his palms delicately against your face before wiping the remnants of your sorrow away from your cheeks.

“Better?”

“No,” you sniffle. “I feel like shit.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I wanna go out again. Will you come with me?” you look up at him, bleary eyes pleading. Jungkook dips his chin as he guides you to sit on the leather couch, which you thankfully follow.

“At this rate, you’re going to pass out before we step foot outside the building.” With a sigh, he crouches down to reach eye level with you. “Do you need to puke?”

“I already did that after getting off the cab earlier, I think.”

“Okay then, wait here.”

You nod wordlessly and he goes to pick up your discarded shoes before placing it near your naked feet. He unlocks his phone as he makes his way to the dining hall, dialling a familiar number.

“Jaehyun?” he asks after the third ring. “Can you come earlier for your shift? Something came up.”

When he’s sure someone is going to take over for him, he makes his round in the empty kitchen, grabbing whatever he thinks might be immediately necessary: clean towels, an empty bucket in case of an emergency, and a glass of water.

You’re placid when he returns, eyes puffed out and red as you stare at nothing in particular. He hands you the water and you immediately finish it before he can blink.

You mumble a quick apology as he exchanges the empty glass for the clean towel.

“Don’t worry about it. This will all be billed towards room service.”

You chuckle and throw him back the towel which lands squarely on his face.

“Not funny.”

“I’m dead serious. Look at this damage on my shirt!” he points at the makeup smear accusingly, causing an escalation in your laughter. But the tears return, and you wordlessly wipe them with your palms.

“Come,” he offers his hand for you to take. “You have to eat.”

You stare wordlessly at it for a while, before taking it and pulling yourself to stand. You’re wobbly on your feet, and Jungkook tightens his grip on your hand in an attempt to steady you.

“I can’t go out like this,” you mumble. Jungkook nods in agreement as he wears a playful grin. You nudge his side, brows furrowed and lips forming into a pout. “I know I look like a mess. No need to rub it in.”

“I never said anything,” he chuckles. “Weren’t you the one asking to go out again?”

“I still do. But don’t worry,” you pat the back of his hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to come with.”

“I haven’t noticed Taehyung pass through yet, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jungkook watches your expression morph back into a blank stare. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, after all. His mind scrambles to quickly divulge the topic. “Where do you want to go? I already called my replacement at the front desk—”

“I know this is a bed and breakfast and not a hotel, but you guys have liquor, right?”

You’ve somehow convinced Jungkook to siphon a bottle of whiskey and a few cans of beer from the lodging’s inventory. Though he can quite happily admit that it didn’t take much to get him on board. But he technically can’t be seen drinking and lounging on the job for morale’s sake, so he sneaks in some food along with the alcohol — and you — back to his room. Although Jaehyun did catch you and Jungkook on the way up.

(He promises a wage increase if Jaehyun doesn’t say anything to Jungkook’s older brother. You didn’t have to but since you offered, I’ll take it, the latter said.)

“Apologies for the mess,” he mutters, holding the door with his foot as he welcomes you. He turns on the lamp instead of the main lights since they’re less obtrusive to the eye.

“Are you kidding?” you stumble in, trying not to drop the cans of beer you’re holding. “This place is practically spotless. You have bodies in your closet, don’t you?”

Jungkook laughs as he makes a beeline for the makeshift table sitting between his pseudo-living-room-slash-bedroom and kitchen—

“Wait, you have a kitchen?”

Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re perplexed or amazed. He shrugs nonchalantly either way.

“Perks of being part-owner, I guess?”

He haphazardly throws a blanket and a pillow near the table for you to sit in, but apparently, you have other plans and proceed to make a home for yourself in his bed. You bury your head in the sheets, mumbling, “It smells good.”

“I change the sheets every month,” he boasts rather proudly; all part of his routine.

“I should definitely check that closet.”

“By all means,” he grins, plopping down in front of the table. He’s yet to have dinner, so his intentions to get food and beer had been partly selfish. Jungkook turns to you, now laying on your side, sullen eyes already studying him. He quickly looks away and grabs a spoon before holding it up.

“Food? You’re probably hungry, right? I know I’m always craving, especially after a good cry. Not that I cry often, but doing so from time to time doesn’t hurt either, I suppose. I hope that doesn’t sound too weird—I know there’s this stigma around men and crying but honestly, it’s all such bullshit. We are born into the world crying, it’s literally the first thing we do as humans. Anyway, do you fancy some beef and white rice? I know it’s not much, but...what are you laughing for?”

Jungkook watches you descend into hysteria, clutching your stomach as your giggles turn silent, but your shoulders are still visibly shaking. You heave for air, turning over so your back is face to him.

“If I knew I was this funny, I would have switched careers,” he mumbles, though loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffs his face with rice.

“It’s not too late,” you reply with a sniffle. “You can still change your mind.”

“That’s true, I suppose. Don’t they have that saying that goes ‘a fickle heart is the only constant in this world’ or something?”

Your head whips back towards him, swollen eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you just quote Howl’s Moving Castle?”

His nose scrunches up in deep thought. “Maybe? I did watch it recently.”

“You’re an odd one, Jeon Jungkook,” you muse quietly, eyes mimicking one of the phases of the moon as you grin.

“Says the person who’s soiling my fresh linen with her tears,” he says playfully. But there’s no reply this time around, and he quickly backtracks. “It’s okay to laugh at that one—it was a joke. A very terrible one, apparently.”

“No. You’re quite spot on, actually.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak for a while, unsure whether he should be overstepping the boundary more than he should have. But he looks at your vulnerable state, splayed across his bed, and thinks all formalities are out the window at this point. Despite the previous state of your relationship with him, or otherwise the lack of it, this would probably constitute friendship. Therefore, as a friend, it’s his moral duty to rid you of your throes and woes, even just a little.

“Where did you go, anyway? Must have been fun if you got all shit-faced like this.”

Keeping the tone airy is probably the best way to go as an introduction.

“Just a pub. I didn’t want to go clubbing by myself, it could have been dangerous.”

Jungkook’s forehead creases with worry, and he holds himself back from the question that he’s burning to ask: Then where the hell is Kim Taehyung? He reserves the right to be outright angry because he knows it’s not his place to. He reaches for the can of beer, which hisses in frustration when he opens it.

“You don’t have friends in the city?” he asks, hoping you will not take offence at his question. You shrug.

“I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone after moving away. It felt weird asking someone out of the blue.”

“You could have called me,” he says without much thought.

“I seriously considered it, but…” you trail off, leaving Jungkook to fill the void himself. He doesn’t mind that he probably didn’t cross your mind as a go-to person to call in times of crisis. “I heard you were quite the party pooper in high school, so I had my doubts.”

“Hey!” he protests, but you ignore him and continue. He doesn’t disagree, of course, but being called out is not a fun experience whether it came from a drunk acquaintance or not.

“New in town, straight-A student—but to be fair, quite good-looking and athletic to boot. My god, all my friends had a stupid on crush on you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks grow warm with embarrassment at the deluge of compliments. “Me? With gangly limbs and an awful bowl-cut? Who couldn’t even get a single word out to anybody, especially girls, without stuttering? That Jungkook?”

“You need to give yourself a little more credit than that, Jeon.” You’re facing him once again, both hands tucked neatly beneath your head.

He nods as an acknowledgement but swiftly changes the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? I’m halfway through this already.”

“I’m sure. I think I’ll probably just nap, then go,” you chuckle. Jungkook can only offer you a rueful smile. He doesn’t mind if you’re unwilling to share the whole spiel of what caused you to be miserable enough to drink by yourself. He’s quite well-versed in that area, after all. It doesn’t solve anything, sure, but it’s enough to numb the feeling of being alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t have to guess who the root of it is, though.

He sighs as he turns on the television, before lowering it down to a manageably quiet level where it will not disturb your sleep. He doesn’t have a particular show in mind to watch, but having the mindless static accompany him is more than enough.

“I lied,” you begin after several minutes of silence. “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” he motions for you to move over as he walks closer to the bed. You follow his instruction, and he peels a layer of the bedsheet. Jungkook laughs as you scramble to get under it. “Better now?”

You didn’t answer but instead, lift your head from the sheets before nodding. He’s overcome with a sense of assurance when he sees your peaceful, content expression.

He hasn’t so much as turned his back on you when you call his name out once more.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Just make sure you leave us a five-star rating.”

He grins just as you crack one eye open. “I’m serious.”  

“So am I. We need that public approval to keep running,” he watches the corner of your lips twitch in amusement as you settle back comfortably into the futon with a nod.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

“Was I wrong? For feeling wanted, I mean.”

Your question catches him by surprise; suddenly the hardwood floor beneath him begins to feel cold against his feet. Instead of returning to his previous spot, he carefully sits on the edge of the bed as the springs creak from his weight. He pulls both his legs underneath him; he couldn’t quite face you, so he stares at the television, instead.

“I don’t think so. We all crave validation, more so from our partners than anybody else. I think it’s natural. Otherwise, it’s pointless.”

“Pointless,” you echo softly.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t work it out, though. Part of it is communicating your needs to each other.”

Hypocrite, Jungkook says to himself. It’s laughable, the level of bullshit he allows himself to bask in. What’s the point of giving someone else advice, when he can’t even get his shit together?

“You have to be truthful because the other person might not know what you want.”

“I know that,” your voice is shaky when you speak. Jungkook hedges his bet and assumes that you began crying once more; he didn’t need to look back to confirm. “I guess I’m just scared of facing the outcome of the confrontation when it does happen.”

“You don’t want to be abandoned when shit hits the fan,” he says more to himself than you.

“Exactly. I don’t even know when it began. One day I just woke up and,” you pause, and Jungkook hears you sniffle. “And everything felt so unfamiliar. The places—the people I thought I knew. It’s like I dissociated from my body, and I've just been on autopilot ever since.”

You pause, and Jungkook continues for you. “And you thought going along with the flow would fix things, but it feels even more jarring because you’ve lost that sense of familiarity.”

“Yeah, exactly. I thought coming here would somehow magically restore everything, but quite the opposite, actually. I guess running away from it doesn’t solve anything,” you chuckle bitterly. He slowly shifts on the bed to face you.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook feels seen; like someone has found the lock to the door he threw away so long ago. Your words continuously play on a loop in his mind, forcing him to look at the actions he’s been taking. Certainly, he’s not racing away from himself by choosing to move to a different country despite his parents’ protest, is he? What about the fact that he chooses not to tell her, the supposed love of his life, about the fact that he’d felt so deprived that he couldn’t resist the temptation to have sex with someone else? And to top it all off, he doesn’t have the guts to tell her.

Jungkook knows he doesn't deserve the right to sit there and tell you what to do when he doesn’t dare to be honest in his relationship.

When you’ve cried your eyes dry and the evenness of your breathing signifies you’re fast asleep, Jungkook gently moves from his spot on the bed. He grabs the phone that has been idly on top of the table, before heading to the bathroom and closing the door shut. No matter the outcome of the conversation, she deserves the truth.

Jungkook inhales deeply and presses the call button.

    You rise before daybreak, and at a glance, Jungkook is nowhere to be found. There’s a painful throb on the side of your head as you sit up, and you ignore it as you untangle yourself from the sheets. With the help of the lights from the television, you find him splayed across the couch not too far from where you stand. He’s still wearing the same clothes he had on a few hours ago, and guilt creeps up quicker than you anticipated it to.

You untuck the blanket you’ve used from his bed before walking towards him, careful not to disturb his slumber.

“I apologize for bothering you,” you mumble as you lay the blanket softly on top of him. You didn’t think to wake him before your departure; you already told him that you were set to leave after a short nap, anyway.

Hurriedly, you exit his room, forgetting that you’re completely barefoot. It’s fine, it’s just a few floors down, anyway.

The short elevator ride gives you little room to prepare for what you’re going to tell Taehyung. You glance at the phone you’ve been keeping on ‘do not disturb’ to find two missed calls from him a few hours prior. You just hope he’s already asleep by the time you get to your room.

You’re relieved when you enter and the lights are turned off. It feels juvenile to be sneaking around as you use your phone’s light to pick up a discarded shirt before stripping away your clothes and hurriedly putting it on.

Taehyung’s body is turned towards the wall as he hugs the pillow tightly against his body. Seeing him tranquil and at peace shifts your mood, as if all the frustration you feel dissipates within an instant. You slide under the covers, careful not to disturb him but he shifts at your presence anyway. He forgoes the pillow, snaking his arms around your waist instead as he inches closer.

“Where have you been?” he murmurs sleepily against your ear.

“Just...here.”

He doesn’t ask further and you don’t elaborate, thinking that he’s fallen back asleep. A part of you is glad for the unadulterated freedom he’s giving you. But there’s a sudden feeling of optimism; perhaps the sensation of loneliness will pass, and that you’re merely being dramatic (for the lack of better term). Once again you’re lulled into complacency. But it’s never a bad thing to just hope for the best, right?

But Taehyung is gone by noon when you finally have the decency to peel yourself off the bed. There’s a simple text from several hours ago that reads: Didn’t want to disturb you. Call me later.

You do exactly that, but it takes you straight to voicemail. Twice. Three times.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, but you try not to read into the situation too much.

“It’s fine, I wanted a day to go around by myself anyway,” you say out loud, uncaring if the walls are the only ones hearing you out. You fall back into the mattress, knowing the eagerness to get ready will not come unless there’s anybody to encourage.

But it seems like you didn’t have to wait for your saving grace for too long because your phone rings and you immediately roll over to reach for it.

Your heart sinks when you read the caller ID, but you grin and answer the call, anyway.

“Hey, Mom.”

She answers back cheerily, before divulging into her familiar list of questions; the usual how are you’s and the have you been eating well’s. When she finally inquires about Taehyung, you answer hesitantly.

“He’s out for work. You know how it is.”

She sighs and you wince, regretting your choice of tone. “Did you argue again?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I’m just—”

“Whatever it is, just be patient with him,” she admonishes. Your grip on the phone tightens. Right, because that very same rhetoric did nothing to salvage your marriage with Dad. It had been one of the reasons why you decided to move away after high school in the first place. Your mother managed to convince you to move in with her, stating that she wanted to make up for being absent most of your youth.

A different country. Foreign places to see, people to meet. The thrill of it all had been enough to convince you to depart the only place you knew your entire life. But part of the reason why you agreed had been because you were growing weary of living with your father’s new family. There was never a sense of belonging that tied you to Seoul despite spending all your life there.

Except for Taehyung.

He followed you five years later, like a fool in love. Then you decided to get married two years after rekindling your relationship. Three years since then, it feels like you’re floating in between two sides of the same coin with him, neither in bliss nor in terror.

“I know,” you chew your bottom lip. Fear is catching fire in your chest, and you smother it quickly so it will not disperse and reach your heart. “I’m trying.”

She switches the topic quicker than you can wipe the tears that manage to fall, and soon enough she’s complaining to you about having to come out for late lunch with her friends. Your answers are short and subdued, just enough to let her know that you’re still there, but your mind is itching to run somewhere else. Before she hangs up, you give her a gentle reminder to check on your apartment. She promises not to forget.

“Have fun, dear! Don’t forget to visit the places I told you about.”

“You act as if I didn’t live here before,” she chuckles at your unintended humour. “But don’t worry, I won’t.”

The line cuts after a short goodbye, and you welcome silence with a long sigh. It seems like there’s a lot on the list for you to finish: get some food to cure your hangover, take a nap, and then another after waking up. The prospect of going out alone is more daunting than it seems, therefore, staying in feels like it’s the best option.

Suddenly, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. You could have called me.

You instinctively reach for the telephone by the bedside table and dial his room number, fresh and vivid in your memory.

*

It takes half an hour to get to the destination Jungkook suggested. He agreed that you’ll treat him to (a very late afternoon) lunch if he picks the place.

“No way, it’s still here!” you exclaim as soon as you step foot off the cab. Waves of nostalgia come trickling in one by one, then hits you all at once when you open the door. Your senses are overwhelmed with familiar spices as soon as you push the door open. You look back and beam at Jungkook, who’s watching you with a small smile.

It’s only when you’re seated and have ordered that Jungkook clears his throat before saying, “I’m glad you still remember.”

You gawk at him, before crossing your legs firmly beneath you.

“Are you kidding? They have the best bibimbap and tofu stew. I was here almost every night especially during the exam period.”

“I know,” he says with confidence and you eye him with suspicion. “I mean, it was tough not to. You were always so loud around your friends.”

You scoff at him despite you knowing it to be true, but Jungkook takes no offence to it as he grins.

“It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime,” you point at him with your spoon.

“I am having fun with—”

“If you say ‘with you’, I swear to god you’re going to pay for the food instead,” you warn him despite a smile threatening to break from your lips.

“With you,” he emphasizes the phrase almost mockingly. You murmur the word “impossible” under your breath as you feel the tips of your ears grow warm.

Although the comment seems gratuitous at the time of its conception, to Jungkook’s credit you also come to enjoy time spent with him. Perhaps it’s the fact that he stands between novelty and familiarity that you fall into an easy discourse with him; you didn’t have to choose your words too carefully or worry that he might think ill of you based on what you say. There’s no seed of doubt and no root cause of anxiety.

You can’t help but find it odd, nevertheless.

Jungkook, whom you’ve never shared more than two lines before your current interaction with him. You’d never have thought in a million years you’d confide in somebody who used to give you odd stares and unfriendly glares when you passed by him in the halls of your high school. The past you would gawk, confused as to how he manages to coax even the tiniest smile out of you.

You’re about to point out that very fact to Jungkook when your phone rings and you’re immediately reprieved back out of the comfort of his presence.

It’s Taehyung, and you immediately answer.

“Babe, don’t freak out, but I’m currently in Daegu. Crazy! I know, I know. But remember I told you last night about—”

He begins listing names you recall hearing in passing. But it didn’t matter, because you stop paying attention after hearing where his current location is.

“—is why I couldn’t answer your call. But don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, probably.”

You watch Jungkook shift in his seat as he asks you if everything’s all right. You nod instinctively.

“Okay.”

“Cool. I’ll call you again later after we get settled. Love you.”

“Mhm.”

He must have been in a hurry because the call cuts before you could get another word in. Although you didn’t attempt to answer longer than a few sentences in the first place, afraid that the quiver in your voice will reveal the hurt and anger that has slowly been piling up one by one.

    Jungkook thinks you’re a dam that’s overfilled and just about ready to burst. He’s afraid because you seem overly happy, obviously overcompensating for the devastation he had seen in your eyes hours prior to your call. He needn’t guess who it had been on the other side. Although he doesn’t know what Taehyung said, it’s enough to send you in a frantic search for your sanity.

This begins with you asking him to go to a karaoke bar with you, before proceeding to order several drinks. It’s on me, Jeon! I owe you lots, you declare before proceeding to down a whole glass of beer in one go.

Within the privacy the four walls of the room bring, you pour your energy into one upbeat song after another, seemingly uncaring of Jungkook’s presence. That is until your umpteenth song ends, and you turn away from the screen dramatically and towards him to hand him the mic.

“Your turn!”

“Great, I thought you’d never ask,” he says sarcastically and you join him on the seat, giggling. He takes the remote and punches in his selected number as a familiar tune comes through the speakers. He looks at you as he begins to sing the lyrics of the verse, and you break out into a small grin.

“I’m trying to realize, it’s alright to not be fine…” he sings softly as your head gently leans on his shoulder. Jungkook lets you.

He does again on the cab ride to the pub for a late dinner. And again on the way home. The weight of your presence against him is most likely inconsequential to the heaviness you carry around with you. That’s why he’ll do his part even though he most likely doesn’t have to; anything to let you know you’re not alone. He just hopes you know.

“Jungkook,” your voice is quiet against his ear as he carries you up the concrete steps.

“Yes?” he adjusts you on his back, careful not to drop you. He’s only slightly inebriated, and he’s hoping there will be no accidents for him or you.

“Thank you.”

“Just leave us a—”

“Five-star rating,” hearing your laughter feels ticklish in his stomach. “I will.”

His older brother greets him with an odd look once he enters the door of the lobby, before asking, “Is this what you skipped work for?”

“I’m only cashing in my days off before a leave,” Jungkook points at the elevator with his chin.

“Yeah, yeah,” his brother says dismissively before pressing the button for Jungkook. Silence passes through them as they wait for the doors to open. “Is she the reason why you changed your mind?”

Jungkook feels the steady rhythm of your pulse against his back, which is kilometres away from his erratic heartbeat. He tries not to put too much thought into it; he did just carry you up several flights of stairs, after all.

The harsh ping of the bell saves him from answering, and the older didn’t press him any further. It’s only after he’s turned the keys to your room, safely placed you on the bed — but not before he falls back onto the spot beside you with a deep sigh — that he has the time to formulate an articulate response.

“I’d like to think I did it out of my own volition. But a lot has happened the last few days, and, well…” he trails off as he turns his body to face you, one hand tucked against his cheek as the other reaches out to comb a stray hair out of your face.

You stir under his touch but he doesn’t make the effort to move away.

“Seems like I owe you again, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper, the words stringing together seemingly in an indecipherable sound. He manages to put the pieces together, nonetheless.

“You’re not under any obligation to repay me,” he grins when you peel your eyes open. “I don’t want to give you all the credit, but you might have saved me more than once.”

“How so?”

The reflection of the city lights chase away the dimness of the room, but they also reflect your eyes in a way that makes Jungkook think you’re holding the galaxy’s secrets within them.

“I was having this, sort of, midlife crisis—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” you place your elbow against the mattress as you lean your flushed cheeks against your palm. “Saying you’re having a midlife crisis now in your late twenties makes it seem like your life’s going to end in your sixties.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. The pessimist in him urges him to declare, “Who’s to say I won’t?”

“Boo! I hate this story already.”

“Buckle up, because it’s about to get worse,” he smiles wryly.

And Jungkook opens up his fresh wounds and bares his soul without pomp and flowery words. He watches your reaction intently, nonetheless, knowing well enough that by the end of the night, he might get kicked out of the halls. He’ll take the punishment kindly, since she didn’t have the chance to slap him when he could tell, despite the distance, that she would punch him square in the face.

“I know it’s wrong, and I’m not making any excuses for my actions.”

“I feel like I have no place to get angry at you. But strictly speaking, from a rational person’s point of view...fuck you.”

“I deserve no less,” he says, appreciating your candour. “That’s why last night, when you fell asleep, I told her everything. I realized that I had no place to speak of communicating when I’ve been holding out on the truth from her for a while now. You can only imagine how angry she is with me.” He swallows thickly, hating the way his throat constricts uncomfortably. Perhaps he did care about how you’ll view him, after all.

“Are you all right, though?”

The worry engraved in the crease between your brow disarms him; the unexpected delicacy in the way you ask him suddenly brings him into sobriety. After hearing the phrase I don’t want to see you, ever, he hasn’t had the time to process how he feels other than the guilt that continues to plague him. He’d buried heartbreak that comes along after losing somebody so quickly that realizing it now has him terrified of himself.

Has he truly reached the point where he’s incapable of feeling anything?

Or is it that somewhere between then and now, he’s fallen out of love with her and made excuses for himself so that it’s easier to let her hate him because he didn’t have the courage to break it off? Is it because he’s using her as an excuse — his ticket out of Seoul, out of the life he thinks to be mundane? Because if so, then he’s an even bigger scumbag than he originally thought.

“Jungkook?”

The warmth of your hand on his cheek salvages him from sinking into the bottomless depth of his thoughts.

“I can’t believe I strung her along for this long.”

Then it hits him all at once; an unavoidable freight train carrying the emotions he’s repressed himself from bearing. In him blossoms the violent need to abate the heaviness that began festering within the depths of his mind a long time ago.

One sob and you pull him against you. Two and you’re running your hands soothingly down the curves of his back. Three, and he’s clinging onto you for dear life as the uncontrollable cries consume him. He’s overcome by a sense of déjà vu as you wrap your arms tighter against him.

Jungkook lets you.

Again and again, he will selfishly welcome your presence, as if doing so would diminish him of any wrongdoings he has committed.

    You drift in and out of consciousness, but the warm body stays unchanged beside you. Another aspect feels indifferent: The pounding headache constantly knocking against your temple. In hindsight, you probably need to stop drinking to the point where your body can’t handle the after-effects. Inhaling slowly puts your mind at ease as the scent of fresh lavender wafts over your senses; you’re immediately reminded of hanging freshly laundered sheets during a hot summer day. Only one person manages to conjure such specific and vivid imagery for you.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your body goes rigid at the feeling of his heavy arm draped across your waist. You slowly open your eyes, hoping that your initial hunch is wrong, and you’re merely dreaming that you let someone who’s neither a stranger nor a friend lay in bed with you.

But you’re met with his peaceful sleeping face, a stark difference between last night’s troubled and despaired Jungkook. For a split second, you let your mind wander with your heart amongst the perilous grounds of your imagination.

If picturing life with him is a sin, then there’s absolutely no saving you from entering the depths of hell.

(A tad bit over-dramatic on your part, but you believe you have the license to do so since you just woke up in the arms of someone else other than Taehyung.)

Despite the slight panic accentuated by the quick palpitations of your heartbeat, you make no genuine effort to move away. Bits of cynicism creeps up, either way, as you berate yourself for clinging onto anybody willing to keep you company.

But at this point, is Jungkook truly just ‘anybody’ to you? In a short period of time, you’ve managed to share more with him than you’ve had with Taehyung. With Jungkook, there’s nobody to compete for attention with.

So, what is holding you back from leaving the anguish behind and instead run straight on towards Jungkook? Is the sanctity of marriage you’ve sworn to uphold after seeing how it tore your own family apart enough of a reason to stay with him?

The answer sits on the tip of your tongue like a ripe fruit ready to burst.

Jungkook shifts his position as he raises one eyelid open before breaking out into a lazy grin. You return the gesture as you peel yourself away from his touch to sit upon the mattress and stretch your limbs wide.

“That was the best sleep I had in a while,” he admits.

“Maybe all you needed was a good cry.”

He gives you a knowing look. “Maybe.”

Silence ensues, and all of a sudden you’re unsure of what to tell him when minutes ago you allowed yourself to stare at him unabated. How exactly are you supposed to express gratification to the person who’s allowed themselves to be the unfortunate passenger to your rollercoaster of emotions? What’s more, is you’d done the same for him. Do you, then, without a need for more words, go back to how it had been previously and pretend nothing had happened?

You didn’t have much time to ponder because your phone vibrates in the back pocket of your jeans.

“What do you mean by ‘we need to talk’?”

“Good morning to you too, Taehyung,” you mumble. Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, as if in sudden realization of something he’d forgotten. He moves off the bed and motions for the bathroom. You nod wordlessly. It almost slipped your mind that you sent him a somewhat vague text the night previous after Jungkook’s spiel. “It means exactly what it says. We need to talk when you get back. You are coming back, right?”

“What’s with the sudden hostility in your tone? Of course, I’m coming back.”

“I think I deserve to be a little hostile,” a sudden wave of bravery washes over you. “How exactly am I supposed to feel after you leave me without warning on our trip?”

“I told you—”

“Stop fucking lying to me, Kim Taehyung,” your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “You never talk about anything with me anymore, and you know it.” There’s a certain pride you feel when he doesn’t respond right away. “I can’t talk to you about this on the phone. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jungkook returns well after you’ve ended the call with Taehyung.

“I should probably get back to my room and change. I need to take over for my brother.”

You follow him towards the door, where he haphazardly puts on his shoes. When he stands, he gazes at you, eyes filled with tenderness. Your heart stutters. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course,” you offer him an encouraging smile, but he doesn’t return it. With one nod he’s out the door, and you watch as his figure retreats towards the elevator without so much as a wave, not knowing that would be the last you see of him for a while.

Taehyung’s arrival comes earlier than expected and catches you after your long shower, but says nothing to quell your worries. He merely sits on the bed and watches you pace around the room; for a comb one minute, then you put on lotion next, then you’re folding clothes to be laundered — anything to busy yourself from confrontation. It’s not that your courage has wavered, but rather your dignity prevents you from breaking first.

Yet as soon as your name rolls off his tongue, there’s a magnetic pull that has your feet nimbly walking to where he is.

“I’m sorry,” is all it takes from him for you to unravel completely. There’s no shortage of fresh, hot tears as he engulfs you against him. You bring your palms up to grab on his shirt tightly, before hitting his chest with no real intentions of hurting him. He doesn’t stop you but instead pulls back to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your arms fall nimbly to the side and Taehyung continues to mutter apologies one after the other, catching each teardrop before they reach the bottom of your ruddy cheeks.

He waits until you’ve stopped sobbing before you begin diving into a conversation that’s been long overdue. Slowly, the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crumble brick by brick as the imperfections of your relationship reveal itself on the surface. It’s uncomfortable for him as much as it is for you to dredge up old wounds, evident by the way his eyes well up with tears, but it’s an intervention needed to regain what was, if possible.

Both you and Taehyung know one conversation is not enough to undo the fractures, but it’s a step closer towards salvation.

*

The end of your trip creeps up closer than you’d like. You stopped tagging along with Taehyung’s workdays because he agreed to go places with you. Days without him are spent milling around the neighbouring places of the bed and breakfast, which leads to your discovery of the best spicy rice cake just around the corner of the street. There is also the obligatory bike ride alone around the Han river, which proves to be more satisfactory than almost anything you’ve ever done.

You find yourself looking for Jungkook in-between the hours where your mind wanders and for a split second, all of your thoughts are suddenly dedicated to him. Deception comes in the form of denial when you push the aimless sentiments aside, afraid that you might get too carried away. It’s maddening to think that he only seems to show up in times of dire need as if the deity responsible for overlooking fate is playing tricks on you.

(Though you know that if you want to see him, the only thing you have to do is knock on his door. You dismiss that idea, either way, for fear of being too obtrusive.)

On the day of your departure, you wake up early to catch breakfast. You ask Taehyung if he wants to join you despite knowing the answer. He grunts in response but stays unmoving. You untangle yourself from the warmth of his body before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Food has been prepared once you’re in the dining area, but there’s nobody to be found. It immediately reminds you of the first morning of your arrival—the excited faces of the children and their parents who were engrossed in a serious conversation, and the elderly couple enjoying their morning of peace together. Two weeks have gone by, and you’re not even sure if they’re still here or if they’ve moved on to see other places, meet other people.

Inadvertently, you steal a glimpse of the kitchen door, waiting for it to swing open and reveal the one person whose smile you’ve been longing to witness one last time. You grin as you shake your head; your propensity towards wishful thinking never ceases to make you feel disheartened.

“Last time you were staring longingly at your soup, and today you’re smiling to yourself,” his voice cuts through your thoughts intrusively as he strolls in, dressed down in a pair of casual joggers and an ill-fitting shirt too big to possibly belong to him. “Hi.”

Your gaze meets his, and breathlessly, you say, “Hi.”

He doesn’t make any gesture that indicates he wants to sit and chat this time around.

“Been busy?”

“I could say the same about you,” your lips curl upwards in a small smile. There’s a landslide of things you want to ask him, topics you want to share. You want to thank him over and over, invite him for a meal or even a simple walk around town. But words seem to fail you as you shift your eyes to stare at your half-eaten plate of fruit slices.

“My older brother mentioned you’re leaving today,” he announces offhandedly, scratching the nape of his neck. You’d like to think he’s just as unsure as you on how to go about having a conversation. Is he also stumbling over his thoughts like you are?

“Uh, yeah—” you flick your wristwatch to check the time— “I just have to wake Taeyhung, and we’ll be on our way.” The rueful smile he gives you feels like a splinter prodding your heart. “You?”

“Oh, I was just on my way to grab something before heading to the gym.”

“Ah,” you nod. Unlike the last time you two shared a conversation in the same place, this one is marred by awkward pauses and long bouts of silence. Afraid this will cause him to leave, you promptly state, “I honestly thought you ended up leaving the country since I didn’t see much of you.”

“That was the plan, yes,” his smile finally reaches his eyes. “I was supposed to leave a week ago— I mean, I had already bought the tickets and despite how it ended with me and her, I still wanted to leave. But someone told me just because you try to run from your problems doesn’t mean it will not follow you there.”

You chuckle as you shake your head. He continues. “I feel like I owe it to her to grant her wishes of not wanting to see me, no matter how much I wanted to get out of this place. A lot of reasons compelled me to stay, and I think I’m better for it.”

When your gaze meets his, there’s an unstated agreement; a kinship that cannot be unbound, locked away in a time you can only revisit through your memory.

“With that being said, I might tour Europe in two months’ time, starting with Sweden,” he grins playfully, cheeks dotted with a dimple. You roll your eyes as you stand before shoving him lightly by the shoulder.

“Alright, Richie Rich, no need to rub it in. I get it, I get it.”

“You have me mistaken, Miss. This was a culmination of years of hard work and savings.”  

“I’m happy for you,” you say with finality. No matter how much you did not want the conversation to end, there’s a twinge of sweetness to a farewell amidst the bleakness that often comes along; it doesn’t always have to end in thunder and rainfall.

But then he asks, “Are you happy for you?”

It might have been then, at that moment, where you’d willingly say blurt the phrase out loud, your situation be damned. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. Not when you nod wordlessly. Not when he opens his arms seemingly as a conclusion, a wordless action that says: I should probably let you go so I can also go about with my day. Instead, you carefully place the three words in your back pocket to be used later before you step into the warmth of his embrace.

He whispers a farewell and a promise that you know you’ll carry in your heart until the time fate allows you to meet again at another time and another place.