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Invisible Smoke - One

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: Tentatively dipping into the TGM fandom after months of lurking. I do subscribe to the belief that Jake likes women who are a bit mean to him, so I hope you enjoy that dynamic, too! I’m sure there will be general Naval inaccuracies but I tried. I grew up on Air Force bases so if I use an incorrect term, I apologize! Please let me know what you think! Trigger Warnings: This series will touch on themes of stalking, domestic violence, and attempted murder (not committed by Jake). Please do not read if this will upset you. You are responsible for the content you consume.

It started slow.

For as long as Jake had known you, which was just over a year give or take, you had never been a jumpy person but everything now seemed to have your eyes darting from one corner of the hangar to the other, from one table at the Hard Deck to the next, as if you were waiting for something or someone to appear and do something.

But what was it?

Some Ensign fresh off the boat dropped a tray of beers and nearly had you leaping from your seat beside the pool tables before you settled again, an unsteady and unconvincing smile on your face when Jake turned to you. Your smile twitched, as did your grasp on the drink (which you swore was actually called Bee’s Knees) in your hand.

“What is going on with you?” He asked, after shoving the pool stick into Coyote’s hand for a moment to step to your side.

Your smile continued to twitch but you shook your head. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” You took a sip of your pastel yellow drink before setting it aside to wrap a hand over his arm and squeeze once. “Go back to your game, Jake. I’m okay.”

Jake didn’t believe you. Mostly because that was probably the first time you said his name without an accompanying smirk.

He didn’t believe you when he saw you murmur something to Rooster a few minutes later and the man quickly drained the rest of his beer before leading you out to the parking lot with a hand on your back and then Rooster came back in alone. He didn’t believe you when you only gave him a thumbs up emoji when he asked if you got home okay. He didn’t believe you when you said you weren’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it to the beach for brunch with the Daggers on Sunday morning.

Something was going on with you and Jake was determined to find out what. After all, you were his favorite mechanic. And, apparently, you were also Rooster’s. And Bob’s. And Phoenix’s, too. Even Maverick had a soft spot for you and Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy were quickly growing attached, as well. He wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of the Dagger Squad preferred you to the other mechanics. And no, Jake didn’t hate that at all. After he’d been called back to Top Gun and then the Dagger Squad had been made into a permanent detachment, Jake had noticed that you were…special.

And that was the only word he would allow himself to call you. Well, aside from “Punch,” your unofficially-official nickname around base because you’d once dropped a punch toolkit on an admiral’s foot, according to Rooster.

Jake’s first glimpse of you had been at the hangar a few days into the uranium mission training and you and Rooster had snuck off to some deserted hallway. Jake, of course, had followed, thinking he was going to have something to needle his cohort with but instead he saw you–in your mechanic’s jumpsuit and engine oil on your cheek basically scolding the pilot. “You are so fucking lucky he didn’t wash you out with that attitude.”

“He-”

“Stop. Show him you were always meant to be here. Be the best damn fighter pilot he’s ever seen and nothing else.”

Rooster was quiet for a moment before nodding, his chin nearly falling to his chest. You sighed and quickly wrapped him in a hug, only smiling when Rooster kissed your cheek and whispered something in your ear.

You had a similar, secretive meeting with Bob in the shadows of an unused classroom on base a few days later when Harvard and Yale were busy getting their asses handed to them by Mav. Jake had stepped out to grab something from his locker to show Javy when he spotted you…and Bob looking quite chummy as you whispered to each other as you looked at something on his phone. Jake stopped looking (like a creep) when you murmured something to Bob which apparently earned you a kiss to the temple in return.

And the first time he heard you laugh was when you were looking over Phoenix’s new plane after that fateful birdstrike. Your nose scrunched with it, head tipped back and sun shining on your face. The noise grew louder after Phoenix said something else and you nearly lost your grip on the wrench in your hand.

Those three had kept you like a secret. And Jake had wanted to know why. You were funny and smart and maybe a little mean. “Kill Streak Ken Doll” had apparently been your nickname for him before being properly introduced and it only came back out when he said something you thought was stupid. “That plastic head of yours is full of air today, huh, Ken?” But you were always happy to make sure the Squad got home safe after a night of drinking, well earned after a hard training day. You were usually the first one anyone called if they needed a lift or a favor or just a shoulder to lean on. And Jake was no exception. Once he had earned your friendship with gentle prodding and Snickers ice cream (but he would wager that saving Rooster may have contributed to your softening to him), he wasn’t sure what he would do without—without you—even if you did seem to make it a personal mission to keep his ego in check. All of the Daggers knew their relationship with you was bordering on inappropriate—you were enlisted instead of an officer. A subordinate to their ranks. And several years younger than most of them. You were one of the few tasked with maintaining the internal mechanics of the million dollar jets they piloted. But there was just something about you that didn’t allow them to keep you away.

God. You were…special.

This was better. This was safer. At least that was what you told yourself. You’d skipped out on the brunch date on the beach with the Daggers to put another three locks on your door. Your landlord didn’t mind, thankfully, but the man at the hardware store that had rung up your purchase definitely thought you were insane.

As you finished with the last lock and then added the three keys to your ring, your phone chirped with a new text. It was from Jake, asking if you needed anything since you’d told everyone you weren’t feeling well to get out of the beach get-together. You typed out a half-hearted, Unlike you, I know how to operate a can opener so I can have soup. But thanks anyway! X Was it your best retort? No. But you were running on four hours of sleep and a cup of green tea. And it wasn’t as if Jake was unaccustomed to your shitty attitude. There was just something about him that had your hackles raising and your sarcasm and snark were your only line of defense. Which was ridiculous because he was nice to you! So nice! And funny! And kind when he wanted to be. He always said please and thank you when you picked up beers for the beach or when you were assigned his super hornet for the day. He was nice. Maybe a little (a lot) cocky. Maybe a little arrogant.

But god he was beautiful. A good friend. And special in a way you didn’t like to think about. And you were 99% sure he’d caught you ogling his arms and hands an embarrassing amount of times when your resolution slipped and your daydreams had run rampant for more than a moment.

And that was exactly why you knew you needed to keep him at arm's length. You had enough people tangled up in your bullshit.

Your eyes dragged over to the crumpled note sitting on the edge of your small dining table. It was almost pathetic how easily a simple piece of paper and a bit of ink had upended your life. It had been stuck beneath your windshield wiper when your car was parked outside your favorite off-base grocery store. One you had frequented for nearly two and a half years. You were supposed to be safe. You thought you had been. Maybe that’s why you had let your guard down. You weren’t as vigilant.

See you soon

Three little words and your world had turned upside down.

Monday morning had been a blur of meetings and paperwork. Jake had been stuck filling out forms about possible training exercises for the next week. Maverick had tasked each of them with coming up with new ways to approach various targets and Jake had a sneaking suspicion that the Dagger Squad would be asked to teach a lesson or two to the next Top Gun class.

He called it quits on his near-impossible flight plans around lunch and wandered toward the minuscule break room to retrieve his food but paused as he heard Maverick call your name. You swept by the break room, leaving behind a scent of gardenias and sunshine that almost always had Jake’s mouth curling at the corners, and moved further down the hall. So, Jake crept closer to the break room door, chicken and broccoli forgotten for a moment. He had to strain to hear anything above a low murmur and eventually gave up and stepped back into the hall, trying to stuff down the realization that he’d followed you too many times for this to be considered friendly curiosity. But he ignored that, too. Just like how he could only call you special. A few yards away, he spotted you, back turned as you spoke to Maverick just outside the captain’s office.

Maverick’s brow pinched as you shook your head, wiping a hand down your face. He said something else before squeezing your arm once and walking away, thankfully turning the other way so he didn’t spot Jake lurking like a creep. And Jake waited exactly eighteen seconds before approaching you, watching as your shoulders slumped.

“You okay?”

You jumped, again, before a familiar smirk settled on your lips. “Checking up on me?”

“That so hard to believe?”

You hummed, fingers fiddling with the uniform button at your neck as your gaze flittered away. “I’m fine, Jake. Promise.”

“What did Mav want?”

Just for a moment, you faltered, before you slapped an exaggerated pout on your features and you set a hand on your hip. “Poor guy. He asked me to be his and Penny’s third. Had to turn him down. But you’ve got a thing for them, don’t you? I can put in a good word for you.”

Jake suppressed a sigh and moved to set a hand on your shoulder when you flinched.

Flinched.

It took the air right out of Jake’s lungs. “Hey, I-I wasn’t going to…I wasn’t going to hit you.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides for a moment before quickly releasing. “Yeah, I know, Ken. I know.” The usual heat was absent from the nickname. “Just been jumpy lately.”

“I noticed.” A lot.

“Nothing gets past you, huh? I knew there was more to you than a pretty face.” Your smirk didn’t stretch quite as far across your face as it usually did. This wasn’t fun and something twisted behind his ribs when the last vestiges of your smirk fizzled out as you turned and crooked a finger over your shoulder at him. “Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?” You asked as you led him down the hall toward your office, a small little room compared to his, grouped near the rest of the Aviation Machinist Mates stationed here—why the Navy shortened your official title to “AD” was just ridiculous to Jake but that was neither here nor there.

“Do you have the maintenance logs for the incoming class?” He asked, knowing you’d have them; he didn’t actually need them but it wasn’t as if he could admit to…well, anything. Not even to himself. You didn’t seem to suspect any ulterior motives and quickly pulled them from the cabinet and handed them over. He stole some candy from the bowl beside your keyboard as he looked over the printouts, not reading a damn word. Not when you were so close, flooding his senses with the scent of gardenias and your laughter was in his ear.

“I’m surprised you eat anything with sugar.”

“Why?” He asked, closing the useless folder shut with a snap and tucking it beneath his arm.

You waved a hand at him as if that would answer his question as you settled in your little chair behind the desk. “Well, I guess your abs really are plastic then.”

He had a retort. He did, truly. But it faded away as he caught sight of the small collection of pictures arranged neatly on the corner of your desk. There was one of you and Bob—you were in a (short) dress Jake had never seen and you were pressing a kiss to his cheek hard enough to knock his glasses askew with a birthday cake aglow in front of him. The next was of you and Rooster, looking like you were standing just outside the annual Naval Ball celebrations if Rooster’s whites and your beautiful gown were any indication. Then there was you and Phoenix standing in front of Phoenix’s jet. You had a helmet with Punch written across the top tucked beneath your arm and the biggest smile on your face. Jake had never seen you smile that wide. But it was the last picture that gave Jake pause. It was of you wrapping your arms around a man Jake had never seen, who was wearing a graduation cap and gown; the man was smiling broadly and you were looking at him with all the adoration you could muster, a gentle smile on your lips. Another woman, who looked just enough like you to give him even more questions, had her arms wrapped around both you and the mystery guy, a large smile on her face.

Jake grasped at the small frame and turned toward you, trying to ignore how it felt like someone had taken a bat to his stomach for the second time in five minutes. “Who’s this?”

You grabbed the picture from him with a frown and set it back down in its spot, fussing around the frames for a moment. “That’s my brother and sister.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings.”

You shrugged but didn’t look at him. “You never asked. Is there something else you need?”

Yeah. There were dozens of things he needed. And right now most of them revolved around you. “No, Punch. But thanks for this.” He drummed his fingers against the folder and tried not to grimace when you didn’t look up from your computer as he neared the office door.

For all the time he spent thinking about you, he didn’t know you at all, did he?

You needed to get more sleep. All the tea you were inhaling to make up for the lack of rest was starting to grate on you. The work you were handling on the Dagger Squad’s planes was slower, mostly because you were worried about missing something, but you were still methodical when double checking everything. You knew that your work kept your aviators safe; skipping corners because you didn’t sleep well wasn’t an option. So, if your counterparts looked at you funny for staring at your punches or wrenches for a beat or two too long, you didn’t really care. You left late for lunch and came back early. You didn’t leave your post until a full two and a half hours later than you usually did, but, again, you didn’t mind. You felt safe in the hangar and making sure everyone was safe when in the air was enough to keep you coherent and focused on your job. Everything else didn’t matter when you had a tool in your hand and your head buried in a jet engine.

But when you stepped out of the locker room shower, engine oil still circling the drain, your mind almost immediately conjured the thought of the tracking device you’d found in your rear wheel well this morning. It had been sheer luck that you even spotted it, the sun hitting the silver duct tape just right as you locked your door. In a moment of panic, you ripped it off your car and stuck it on one of the trash cans near the hangar. It wouldn’t help anything—he probably already knew where you lived but at least now he would have a few days spent trying to figure out why you were going back and forth between the hangar and the dump. It was a minuscule solace.

You climbed into your car with a muted groan just as your phone chirped, reminding you that you had several unread messages. You opened them and a wave of self-loathing washed over you. Natasha, Bob, Bradley, and Jake had all invited you out to the Hard Deck for drinks. It’s been a shitty day! Tasha’s read. She had no idea and you weren’t about to tell her. You apologized to them all, copy and pasting your response, telling them you’d buy a round next time but you were too tired tonight. It was easy enough. But Jake had responded before you could even throw your phone into the passenger seat.

Do you need anything?

You tapped your phone against your mouth for a moment, hating the urge to tell him anything…everything. Instead, you typed out: Sleep, Ken. I need sleep. Reading comprehension isn’t your strong suit.

You tossed your phone into the cup holder in the center console and pulled out of the hangar’s parking lot, hoping that there’d be no more surprises tonight.

Jake stared down at his phone and frowned at your message. You were really off your game. And had been for too long. Something was wrong.

“You’re up, Bagman.”

Jake looked up to see Phoenix holding a pool cue out to him. But he didn’t move to take it. “Does Punch seem off to you lately?”

Phoenix frowned, grip tightening on the cue for a moment. “She’s tired. That’s what she said, right?”

Jake nodded but glanced down at his phone again, as if willing it to light up with another message. But all he saw was his face staring back at him in the reflection. Now, Jake had been working on being nicer since the Dagger Squad had become a permanent detachment. These people would have his back and counted on him to have theirs. It had been slow going, Jake would admit. His best friend was still Javy and the others were happy to remind him of his shortcomings whenever Hangman superseded Jake. But he knew they all cared about each other in a strange, ragtag family type of way. They cared about you. They knew you. “How do you know her? I mean, you obviously knew her before we were all stationed here.”

The woman paused for a moment, as if she was contemplating actually telling him, before shrugging. “We were stationed together in Hawaii. My then-girlfriend tried to cheat on me with her,” Phoenix said, breezily as she took the seat next to him. “I walked in on them. Poor Punch didn’t know I existed before the near-hook up and apologized like ten times on her way out and then tracked me down at the hangar the next day with six different drinks from the coffee shop because she wanted to apologize properly but didn’t know my favorite. She was just so…”

“Punch.” That was you, doing too much to make up for something that wasn’t your fault and weaseling your way into someone’s affections without even meaning to do so. You’d also accidentally revealed your bisexuality to the rest of the Dagger Squad during a ramble when you thought you’d stepped on Fanboy’s toes by insinuating he had a girlfriend. (You only stopped when Phoenix patted your hand with a laugh and said she understood with a wink.)

Phoenix laughed. “Yeah, she was just so Punch. Couldn’t be mad at her if I tried. And it seemed like we both needed a friend.” She shook her head, a fond smile on her face, before she glanced up. “Bob, you met Punch on deployment, didn’t you?”

Jake looked up to see Bob standing near him, a cup of peanuts in one hand, pool cue in the other. Jake stopped being surprised by Bob’s stealthy movements only a few months ago. The WSO nodded. “She was the only one who remembered my birthday and set up a video call with my family to surprise me. There was also an attempt at a cake but that didn’t end well.”

“She can’t bake?” Jake asked, not caring at all. He could bake. His specialty was a Victoria sponge.

Bob smiled, the smallest curling of the corners of his mouth. “Nearly set the kitchens on fire. And then she got mad at me when I actually tried to eat it. Now, if we’re both stateside for my birthday, she makes sure to have a cake sent to me from whatever bakery is nearest my base if she can’t make it out herself.”

Something in Jake’s chest twisted. Special. You were special.

And Jake hadn’t realized he said that out loud until Bob was agreeing with him. “She is.”

“You think there’s something going on with her?” Phoenix asked.

“She seems tired,” Bob said, voice level. “Why do you ask?” Leave it to Bob to be tactfully evasive.

“You know, you should ask Rooster. He’s known her the longest.” Phoenix called the man in question over before Jake could even try to stop her. And Bradshaw fucking sauntered over, stupid Hawaiian shirt flapping with each step. He must have a cache of them in the Bronco.

“What do you need, Trace?” He asked, his usual small smile on his face.

“Hangman’s been asking about Punch. You met her first, right?”

Bradshaw stiffened for a moment. “Yeah. She was fresh out of training and stationed with me in South Carolina. We met up again in the desert a few years later.” Jake didn’t like how the other man crossed his arms with a frown after answering. “You trying to pull something, Bagman?”

And Jake definitely didn’t like that either. Would that be so bad? Really? “I’m just worried about her, Rooster. She’s been off.”

At least Phoenix seemed to be on his side, jamming the end of her pool cue into Rooster’s foot, earning a frown before his hand knocked it away. “She has been a little quiet lately.”

Jake caught the look Rooster gave Bob before he turned back to the group. “Has she said anything to you guys?”

“No. That’s why I was asking.” Jake stared at Bradshaw and Bradshaw stared right back. He could have asked what he was hiding or why he immediately got defensive when questioned about you.

But Fanboy walked up with a quick, “are you guys just gonna hold the pool cues all night or are you actually going to play?” and the opportunity was gone, Bob slipping away and Phoenix pulling Rooster along as she stepped toward the pool tables.

Jake glanced down at his phone again. Still no message. He may have learned something about you, but now he just had more questions.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

It had been about a week and you hadn’t received any other notes or discovered anything else. And you still couldn’t sleep. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and just waiting to fall. Waiting for something to happen. Work was your refuge and the trip you took out to visit Missus Kazansky for dinner. She had held your face in her hands as you set aside your bowl of half-finished ice cream and had tried to pry, in her soft-toned motherly way, “you’re looking a little tired, sweetheart. Something you want to tell me?”

And maybe you could have told her. The Kazansky family had been good to you since you had been stationed here, a family that welcomed you with open arms; you had tried to repay their kindness as best you could and you weren’t about to put more on Sarah’s plate. It had only been a year since Tom’s passing. They had done more than enough for you. You could handle this on your own, right? “I’m okay. Just been helping Bradley take his mind off his promotion boards.” And Tasha. And Bob. In some strange twist of fate, the Navy had determined that the entirety of the Dagger Squad was eligible for promotion. While there was little you could do aside from helping them improve their running times and how many push-ups they could do, you still tried to be optimistic on their behalf and distracted them with dinners in the break room on base and a late night run down to the beach for drinks under the stars.

“That’s right! He’s up for Lieutenant Commander, isn’t he? Such a smart boy.”

By the time you left, Sarah had heard all about the Dagger Squad’s adventures in pushing the envelope (and rising Admiral Simpson’s blood pressure) in their dogfight maneuvers and you had learned that the Kazansky kids were doing well—Junior had proposed to his girlfriend (a young woman named Taylor who you had met a handful of times) and Lily was sailing through the last semester of her undergraduate program and was already being wooed by some big wigs in the Navy who knew her last name. It was good and lovely and a bubble of security that popped the moment you buckled yourself into your car.

A quick glance in your rear view mirror as you went to throw your car into reverse had you nearly screaming. A shadowed figure of a man was standing at the end of the driveway, tall and menacing. A knock at your window had you jumping but you pressed a smile to your face when you saw Sarah waiting on the other side. Rolling down your window, you asked, “did I forget something?”

She waved the question away as you chanced a glance in your rear view mirror again—the man was gone. “It completely slipped my mind but I’m throwing an engagement party for Junior and Taylor next Friday. You’ll come, won’t you? It has been too long since I’ve had all of you in one place.”

You could never say no to Sarah and you were nodding before she even finished. “Of course. Just let me know if you need me to help with anything.”

Sarah shook her head with a small smile. “You are always so willing to help, sweetheart. I just want you to have a good time. It’ll just be here at the house, starts at 7. Invite a friend to come with you,” she added with a knowing smile.

“I’ll be there.” You hated that a tremor marred the last word, shaking it between your teeth.

But Sarah didn’t seem to hear it as another smile graced her features and she tapped her knuckles on the edge of your window. “Perfect.”

After shooing her back inside and making her promise to lock the door, you sucked in another breath and looked back. If you were expecting the man to be there again or not, you couldn’t tell. But the driveway was empty and you drove home, ignoring how your fingers shook on the steering wheel. Maybe it was just someone out for a walk, making sure you didn’t run them over. Maybe it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

You repeated it to yourself until you slipped into a fitful sleep, and you continued to repeat it to yourself as you tightened and tweaked various bits and pieces on Bradley’s jet as the Dagger Squad each took a turn to speak to the incoming Top Gun class that you had, honestly, forgotten about. It was a mantra through the rest of the week; a small solace was that everyone else seemed to be on edge, too, as they waited for their results. The voice only went quiet when Bob wrapped you in a hug at five-thirty in the morning, beating you to the hangar on Friday, and murmured that the entire Dagger Squadron had been selected for promotion. They’d made it.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered as you returned the hug.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been just fine, Bobert,” you said as you pulled back with a shake of your head.

He tried to scowl at the nickname and pressed a finger against your nose until you knocked his hand away with a smile. “Seriously, Punch. Thank you.”

That was all it took, really. Seeing your friends happy pushed everything else to the back of your mind. The work day was all but lost as everyone was buzzing with excitement which only heightened when Admiral Simpson gave the Dagger Squad free reign in the skies for a few hours to celebrate, the barest hints of a smile on his face. Celebratory drinks were basically demanded when the day finished and Tasha and Callie made you promise to show up with matching, pleading looks that you could never say no to, even if you wanted. So, as the sun started to set, you stepped out of your little car, feeling bits of sand shift beneath your shoes, and toward the Hard Deck that was already teeming with Naval Aviators and other sailors, ready to celebrate the end of the week and the shiny new pins they’d soon have on their collars.

Bradley wrapped you in a hug just before you stepped up to the bar and spun you around and held you tight as his laughter rumbled in your ear. His mustache brushed across your temple before he pressed a quick kiss to your skin, feeling him smile. “You’ll be there, won’t you? When I get those little leaves?”

You snorted at the way he referenced the new rank insignias he would get. “‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Not if you could help it.

The Navy had a lot of strange customs and regulations, but the “wetting-down” celebration was probably one of the loudest. Whenever an officer was promoted, a party was thrown and it was customary to hear razzing speeches from friends, sometimes family, and commanding officers while the recently promoted paid for everything. Maverick had taken the first speech, followed by Hondo, and even Cyclone got up to say a few words, his green eyes just barely hazing with the to shelf alcohol he’d been nursing all night. A few of the ground crew managed to snag the microphone next and sang a gloriously off key rendition of the Village People’s “In The Navy.”

And Jake did try to take it all in. Really, he did. But something he wouldn’t and couldn’t name had him searching for you in the crowd. He wasn’t sure where you found the time to change but Jake wasn’t complaining. God. You were gorgeous. Always had been, always would be. But the dress you had on now was something special. Some sort of floral print on light blue fabric, pretty and understated. What was not understated was the way your breasts were straining against the top nor the slit that went to the middle of your right thigh, as if trying to balance out the length of the skirt that reached your calves.

And right now, you were sitting with Rooster at the piano, letting him teach you how to play. It was quieter than Rooster’s usual showboating performance and the jukebox was still rattling with some 80s Top 40 to mask the notes you couldn’t quite hit. But you were smiling and Jake took a swig of his beer as he turned back to the pool game—he and Javy were currently beating Harvard and Yale. As he lined up his next shot, he saw Rooster make you laugh and you leaned into his side for a moment. For the umpteenth time, something twisted behind Jake’s ribs. The ball sunk just as you stood from the piano bench and made your way toward Penny as she manned the bar.

And because luck or just plain talent (why not both) was on their side, Javy sank the eight ball next, winning the game. Yale called for an immediate rematch before Phoenix yanked the cue out of his hands and told him to tend to his bruised ego over darts. Jake barely heard any of it as he slid up to the bar after clapping Javy on the shoulder and let your perfume curl around him as he stood beside you; gardenias and musk was probably written on the bottle of whatever you sprayed on, but he could still smell the engine oil that lingered. It was just…you.

“And a Bee's Knees for you, Punch,” Penny said, sliding the pastel yellow drink in your direction.

“Thank you, Penny.”

You went to pull your wallet out of your purse when Jake handed over his card instead. “Put her little drink on my tab, Penny.”

Before Penny could move, you grabbed Jake’s card and tossed it over your shoulder. Penny stifled her surprised laugh behind her hand as Jake groaned and bent to pick up the card. If he took a little longer to stand straight because he appreciated how high the slit in your sundress was, that was between him and God.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Punch,” Jake drawled as he reached his full height again, watching you tip the coupe glass toward your lips. “But I just made Lieutenant Commander. I can afford to buy you your fruity drink. And it is tradition that I buy the drinks.” Jake resisted the urge to smirk when your eyes tracked over him, lingering (if he was a betting man) on his arms as they crossed across his chest. But the saccharine smile pushing at your mouth quickly deflated any sort of satisfaction from knowing you were checking him out. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught you looking at him but you never seemed to let him enjoy that.

“Technically, any of the people who were just promoted could buy my drink.” And that was true. As if asking him to refute it, you pressed your side against the well-worn wood of the bar and arched a brow after you pulled a few bills from your purse and stuffed them in the tip jar. God, you were…special. Yeah. That was definitely the word Jake wanted to use. Special. “Could you put my drink on Bob’s tab, please?”

Penny’s eyes moved from you to Jake before nodding, fighting another smile. “Sure thing, Punch. He has the smallest tab right now anyway.”

And that was probably why you did it, not adding too much to someone else’s ledger. But still. “Would it kill you to let me buy you a drink?” Jake asked.

You shrugged and took another sip. “It might. Best not to tempt it.” And then he watched you walk away, hips swaying with each step.

Penny’s laugh had Jake nearly blushing as he turned back to the bar. “Can I get another round of-”

She waved him off, still smiling, and Jake knew not to take it personally. “You got it.”

The party carried on and Jake busied himself with dancing, more pool, and beating everyone who challenged him to a round of darts. But, he found himself still looking for you in the crowd and smiling when he heard your laugh. He almost missed an easy shot in a game against Phoenix and Halo when he spotted Bob trying to teach you how to two step while some old Tim McGraw song rattled out of the jukebox. You were bad at it, but you still laughed, and didn’t seem to mind when Bob set his hands on your hips and tried to correct, well, everything. When the song finished, you seemed to be excusing yourself for the night and moved to grab your purse from where it sat next to Halo’s and Phoenix’s bags. You started, as you always did, to make your rounds to say goodbye to everyone you knew. The last bunch was the group stationed near the pool tables and you happily accepted the hugs from Phoenix, Halo, and Javy, before turning toward him.

He could have accepted the hug you were going to give him, arms outstretched and waiting. He could have tucked his face into the curve of your neck and inhaled more of your gardenia perfume and then happily watched you walk away. But instead, he said, “lemme walk you out to your car.”

Again, you arched a brow as you glanced at the pool table. The game was clearly not finished. “Your southern gentleman schtick is not necessary, Ken. Don’t think I’ll get lost in the parking lot.”

“I am a gentleman.”

Both Phoenix and Halo scoffed, albeit good naturedly, but Jake did see Javy nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye.

Your mouth twisted to the side and Jake knew you were trying not to smile, making that same twisting sensation engulf his chest. “Sure. I definitely believe that. But fine, you can walk me to my car. But when you get lost on your way back inside, you have to promise me to use all that special Naval training to get back to your game. You know which way is north, right?”

Jake didn’t even mind the insinuation and leaned the pool cue against the table and stepped to your side, fighting the urge to set his hand on the small of your back before opening the door for you. Again, the scent of gardenias nearly bowled him over as you slipped by him with a murmured ‘thank you.’ The pair of you were quiet as you led the way to your car near the edge of the lot but Jake didn’t mind.

You fished your keys out of your purse as you reached your car and turned toward him with a smirk and Jake just knew you were going to say something about needing Javy needing to come rescue him. You opened your mouth but your gaze darted just beyond his shoulder. Then something crossed your face that he had never seen before. Your eyes went wide as your teeth clacked together with how quickly you shut your mouth. The keys fell from your hand and bounced off your shoe. And before Jake could even move to grab them, you had scooped them up again and you cursed as the key scraped against the yellow paint of your car instead of pushing into the keyhole.

“Thanks for walking me out.” Your voice was small. Too small.

“Punch-”

You threw your door open and slid inside, slamming it behind you just before the engine roared to life. The window rolled down and you had a shaky, small smile on your face. “Get inside. I’ll see you Monday. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.” And then you were pulling away, the tail lights of your car growing smaller by the moment as you peeled out.

What happened? What did you see? Jake turned to look where he thought you spotted something and saw nothing. There was a man further down the beach and a couple walking hand-in-hand coming closer. There was nothing threatening about either of them.

But still.

Jake had never seen you look like that before. You were scared. All of the jumpiness, all of the flinching, all of the ditching of plans. It made sense now. Something or someone was scaring you. And now he had to know why.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!If you’re interested, the unofficial soundtrack to this fic includes: “Archer” by Taylor Swift, “Talk to Me” by Stevie Nicks, “Pancakes for Dinner” by Lizzy McAlpine, “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard” by Lana Del Rey, and “Golden Age” by Ethel Cain.

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #Jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #tgm #top gun maverick #female reader

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thatlovinfeelin · 1 year ago

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Flightless Bird | eighteen | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk)

“Mommy! Hurry up!” Wren said, dragging Jose behind her, “Auntie Nat twell her!”

Natasha only laughed and walked next to Jose. They were on their way from the parking lot to the tarmac for the airshow. Jake was set to be flying and Wren was begging to go see it. Although, Jose tried to normally stay away from Airshows in general just in case someone certain was there.

“So, I have some news,” Nat whispered to Jose.

“Oh?”

Natasha just smiled and twisted her wedding ring, something Jose noticed the female pilot did when she was a little anxious. Her and Jake got married two years prior in a small ceremony on the beach. Not to big and fussy, as both of them wanted simple friends and family. A certain Blue Angels pilot was not able to attend, so Coyote was Jake’s best man while Jose was the maid of honor, with little baby Wren as a little flower girl. It was beautiful and simple and perfect.

“You can’t tell anyone yet,” Phoenix stated, “But I’m pregnant.”

Jose stopped in her tracks, much to Wren’s dismay who let out a little wail and tried with all of her might to pull her mom forward.

“Oh my god, Nat!”

“Are you mad? I know you-”

“Mad? Oh my god no, I’m so happy for you!” Jose exclaimed, hugging the other woman, “Does Jake know yet?”

Natasha shook her head, “No I haven’t found the time to tell him yet.”

“How far along?”

“Six weeks? I think? I have a doctors appointment next week to confirm,” She explained, “But I’m so scared to tell Jake. We’ve talked about kids, but not yet.”

“Well, I’m assuming you weren’t using anything?” Jose asked carefully.

“We weren’t trying,” Nat swore, “But we weren’t not trying.”

Jose couldn’t help but laugh. That sounded like the most Jake and Natasha thing.

“I want Gampa Mav and Nenny,” Wren whined, snapping the two women out of their hug.

“Okay, let’s go munchkin.”

Wren was dressed in little combat boots, one of the flight jackets that Jose bought for her before she was born, and a pink tutu. She looked like a little combat princess as she strutted in front of Jose and Nat.

For a nearly four year old, she had a lot of personality. Maybe too much for her own good. But Jose loved her daughter with all of her heart. There wasn’t a thing in this world that she wouldn’t do for her.

“Thank you for coming today,” Nat nudged Jose with her shoulder, “I know it means a lot to Jake to have you guys here for this.”

Jake was set to be a part of a super important Legacy flight, one of the only f-18 pilots chosen. He couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks prior. Jose wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him so excited for something related to work before.

“We couldn’t miss it,” Jose shrugged, “Wren wouldn’t let me.”

“Mama we see Unca Yake?” Wren asked.

Jose couldn’t help but smile at the way that Wren said Uncle Jake. They were still working on her speech, but the little munchkin was getting better and better every day.

“Yeah sweetheart, we’ll see him soon, I promise,” Jose replied, “But let’s find Gampa Mav and Nenny first, okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically and wiggled a little in Jose’s arms. Little Florence loved Maverick and Penny, now lovingly known and Gampa Mav and Nenny. They stepped right into the role of grandparents to Wren without a second thought. They were there to support Wren and Jose with no questions asked, even after Jose forced Braldey to leave.

They never once asked what happened between the two of them. Instead they just loved Jose and her little daughter with all of their hearts.

“Gampa Mav!” Wren wiggled out of Jose’s arms and took off running towards the older pilot, “Nenny! Auntie ‘Melia!”

“Shit,” Jose cursed, chasing after her little girl.

Wren jumped into Mav’s arms, hugging the older man as tightly as she could. Mav laughed and hugged her back, not seeming to notice the fact that the little girl ran off without her mother. Penny was a little more attentive and scowled at the little girl as best as she could.

“Wren, what have I told you?” Jose was out of breath as soon as she reached them, “You need to stay with me!”

“But I saw Gampa Mav and Nenny.” The little girl blinked up at her mother, not seeming to understand.

“You can’t run off-”

“Mav! There you are!”

Jose froze. She didn’t dare turn to look at the source of the voice. A noise escaped her, sounding like a small wounded animal. She didn’t even check to see if they were going to be here today. Normally she checked every air show, but Jake was so excited that she was going to come and bring Wren.

“Bradley,” Mav said, handing Wren over to Phoenix who finally caught up, “Didn’t expect to see you until later.”

“I had a second and saw you guys over here.”

Wren looked at Bradley with wide eyes. He was in his blue and gold flight suit, looking like a hero in his own way. Wren was mesmerized by any pilots. She loved planes, and the people that flew them.

“You fwy pwanes?”

Bradley was stunned for a second. He finally realized who was standing next to Mav and Penny. She looked so different, and yet exactly the same. Her hair was longer, and she was thinner than he’d ever seen her. So much so it made him wonder if she was eating enough. But he didn’t have the right to worry about Josephine Wilson anymore, not when she kicked him out of her life.

“I uh-” He cleared his throat and directed his attention to the little girl in Phoenix’s arms.

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that this was the little baby he once loved with all of his heart. She was so much bigger, with wide eyes that mirrored her mother’s. She looked just like Jose. There’s no way that wasn’t her daughter. It made him want to cry. He loved her like a daughter and he missed out on so much of her life.

“Yeah, I do,” Bradley smiled at the little girl, forcing down the emotions. He leaned down so he was eye level with her, “See that blue and yellow plane over there?” he pointed down the way a little to where all of the Blue Angels were lined up, “That one is mine.”

“Woah,” She replied, “Auntie Nat can we go see?”

Nat carefully looked over at Jose, who still hadn’t allowed herself to look over at Bradley. Jose nodded quickly, watching as Nat along with Mav, Penny, and Amelia made their way towards the row of planes.

Jose swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She felt like she could cry. She always did her best to avoid Bradley at any event that the Blue Angels could be at. Jake always understood. He hated it, but he understood. She wanted to be mad at him for not warning her that he would be here today. She felt tricked and like her heart was going to explode.

“Jose.”

She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips before opening her eyes and turning to face him, “Hi Bradley.”

“It’s good to see you,” He said slowly, carefully even.

“Yeah, um, you too,” She replied, “You look good.”

“I am. Pensacola has been good for me,” He replied, voice sounding like gravel.

She nodded. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. What do you even say in a situation like this? How is she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to face Bradley, when all she wanted to do was be held by him again? She wanted to feel his lips on hers again. She wanted him more than she could dare to put into words.

“You look…nice,” Bradley had to force the words out. He wanted nothing more than to hold her.

“Try keeping up with a three year old, see how you look,” She responded quickly.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I genuinely meant you look nice.”

She looked down at her little sundress and sighed. She hated this feeling between them. This rift, the distance…whatever it was. She wanted to feel close to him again. But she didn’t know how she could ever feel close like she used to.

“She’s gotten so big,” Bradley was looking over his shoulder now, looking towards Wren, “She was so tiny when I left.”

“Bradley about what I-”

“Bradshaw! Time to get ready.”

His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. His shoulders squared before his eyes opened again and he was back to being Rooster. He forced a smile and held out his hand for Jose to shake. How do you even shake hands with the man you’re still madly in love with?

“Nice to see you again, Josephine. Look for me in the skies.”

She wanted to say more. Wanted to beg for his forgiveness. Wanted to beg for him…just for him to give her a second chance. But he was gone before she had the chance. He disappeared into the crowd of people like a leaf disappears in the wind.

Jose was still holding her breath when Natasha came back to stand next to her, “Mav has Wren. Are you okay?”

Jose’s eyes started to water, “I didn’t realize how much I missed him. And then he’s right here and I can’t say any of the things that I want.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Natasha assured her, “Now c’mon, Jake is up next. Don’t want to miss him.”

Later that night, Jose was sitting in her bed alone. Wren was staying with Jake and Natasha tonight, so the house was silent. Jose didn’t quite know what to do with herself. So she poured a big glass of wine and settled in. What she didn’t expect was her phone pinging at eleven, with a text from a number she never expected to see again.

She found herself scurrying out of the bed and fumbling her way to the front door. Her breath was ragged as she threw the door open to reveal Bradley standing there. He looked too good to be true.

“Hey,” She said stupidly.

Bradley was on her in an instant, hands cradling her face, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

“I-” She took a second, “I want you. I always have.”

Then he was kissing her like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x oc #top gun rooster

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riseoftheclansrpg · 6 months ago

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ROCKCLAN - RISE OF THE CLANS

OVERVIEW

RockClan is most known for their resillience in the face of adversity. Their lifestyle -- living in the depths of boulders and mountainous lands -- is a life that only the strongest can truly thrive in. To water down RockClan to simply tough is a disservice to the family that makes up this Clan. As close as they come, RockClan warriors would do whatever it takes to defend their home. Their land is carefully guarded by their Sentries, cats who are trained to watch and survey for potential threats.

TERRITORY

RockClan's territory is by far the most perilous territory to live in- the territory consists of very mountain-like terrain, complete with large boulders and douglas fir trees. Mudslides and rock slides occur frequently, and it's very hard to traverse the territory. As a result, RockClan warriors are some of the toughest cats you're ever going to meet. RockClan warriors have paw pads that're tougher than hide and are very muscular, making any sort of climbing in this territory a breeze. The main prey found here are voles, moles, shrews, and occasionally an adder or an armadillo. The main predators found here are large birds of prey, coyotes, foxes, and large venomous snakes.

DAILY LIFE

RockClan like to keep up a profile of extremely tough cats. To help keep this image, it's a common bonding activity on patrol to sharpen one's claws on the rocks along the border, for the other clans to see. Whoever makes the largest scratch marks gets bragging rights, and gets to lead the rest of the patrol. From a young age, kits will challenge one another to see who can push the biggest rock in camp. This continues as a competitive activity into warriorhood; this can be dangerous, and has led to injuries, so it is frowned upon by senior warriors and leadership positions. Despite this gruff and tough outward appearance, RockClan is actually very easy going with one another and truly care about each other. They are extremely loyal, and will put aside personal differences to defend their Clanmate from outside trouble. Once a RockClan cat, always a RockClan cat.

SPECIALTY RANKS

With the uptick in trouble caused by rogue and forces unknown to the Clans, the leadership of RockClan decided that it was time for a specialized role in keeping a watchful eye out for the Clan. Sentries are a rank that specialize in surveillance and dexterity. They are expected to hone their climbing skills to perfection to effortlessly scale the mountainous terrain of RockClan. They are typically stationed at high vantage points such as trees and boulders both solo and with their fellow Sentries for day and night patrols. They are known to work closely with the Deputy, keeping them updated with anything concerning or notable they may have seen on their patrols. A cat can begin training underneath the Sentries after completing their Warrior’s training.

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princessmisery666 · 2 years ago

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Melted With The Snow - Part 4 - No One's In The Room Mini Series

Series Summary: Jake and Ryleigh find themselves stranded in a remote location when a mission goes sideways. Injured and dependent on his help, she gets a glimpse of the man beneath the façade of ‘The Terminator’. Once they are rescued, the bubble of their personal Vegas bursts, and Jake struggles with new emotions while Ryleigh hopes he will finally see the man she came to know when no one else is in the room.

Summary: Ryleigh attempts to extend her friendship with Jake now that they are back home, but jealousy rears its ugly head.

Warnings: fluff, jealousy.

W/C: 2.6k

Characters: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Ryleigh ‘Rodeo’. Small Parts/Mentioned: the rest of the Dagger Squad, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado.

Pairing: fwb - Ryleigh x Fanboy.

Pairing: none for part 2.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Catch up here.

Melted With The Snow

Ryleigh’s leg ached as she awoke, but it was soon forgotten, feeling Jake cocooned around her. His arm rested across her stomach, chest pressed to her back, breath fanning her neck. She’d woken with the thought of needing painkillers, but the steady rhythm of Jake’s breathing and the warmth of his embrace seemed relief enough for the moment.

She timidly shuffled back, pulling his arm up and tighter around her, and even in the midst of sleep, he must have thought she was cold as he tugged the blanket higher and nestled his face into her neck.

She’d seen Jake in many scenarios, and his cocksure smirk was ever-present. Unable to stop herself, she gingerly turned over, careful not to wake him nor put too much pressure on her injury, as she wanted to see what he looked like, relaxed and vulnerable as he slept.

A slight frown creased his brow, “Cold,” he murmured, eyes still firmly shut. Jake smoothly ran his hand over her side tucking it under the other side, and tugged her flush against him. Reflexively she threw her leg over his hip, and slowly his eyes opened. As close as they were, almost nose to nose, she noticed flecks of gold amongst the hazel. He smiled softly in a silent greeting, and she felt her stomach flip.

No, Ryleigh. She warned herself. Don’t.

Despite her brain screaming at her not to fall into the trap of Jake Seresin, her hands hadn’t quite caught up, and she found them swirling patterns on his back, down his side, and around his chest.

Jake hummed and followed her lead, tracing imaginary lines on the leg holding him against her. He shivered and wet his lips, tongue brushing her mouth as they tested the other’s boundaries.

Gazes locked, Jake’s hand roamed further up her leg, and she wanted him to slip his fingers beneath her panty line, grip her tight, and take what he wanted.

The air was charged, something invisible but very present and tangible passed between them, but Jake hesitated. The hesitation worried him; he’d never been uncertain with someone before. He was confident and bold, so why couldn’t he close the minute gap between them? Her eyes searched his face, and without saying it aloud, he told her: “if you want this to happen, then you have to make it happen.”

He wanted her. He’d never be able to express how badly he wanted her and worried that having her in the ways he wanted wouldn’t satisfy his craving but only serve to increase it.

She drew circles on his stomach, as low as their position allowed her hand to wander, and she felt him growing hard against her leg. Still, he made no move to get closer or kiss her.

Was he teasing or as nervous and unsure as she was? Her eyes fell closed, and she steadily lifted her head to lean in closer, feeling the tickle of his lips against hers just before the crackle of static on the radio burst the bubble.

“Shit,” Jake jumped and didn’t give her a second glance before rolling out of bed and making his way to the living room to answer the call.

Ryleigh waited in the bed listening to Jake’s mumbled replies to whoever was on the radio, unsettled by what almost happened. What was she doing? Why was she giving into… what was she giving into – lust, curiosity… feelings? No! Not feelings, no way, and why hadn’t he kissed her? She was sure he wanted to, and she’d made it very clear she wanted him even though she had previously told him it would never happen.

Her leg began to ache again. She shuffled to sit up and readjust her position but remained in the bed, hoping Jake would rejoin her.

Instead when he reappeared, he shoved his shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, and barely looked at her.

“There’s a break in the storm,” he explained, “it’s the best chance for evac that we’re gonna get.”

“How long do we have?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip and shamelessly dragging her eyes down his body.

He felt his body flush with heat, something in the way she hungrily drank him in gave him pause. But why? Anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated to add to the long list of conquests. He’d have marched in there and taken her in all the ways she wanted him to.

He wanted it too, but suddenly not like this. Not because they were each other’s only option at that moment. He didn’t want a quick, meaningless hook-up. He wanted more.

Fuck. No, it wasn’t that. Couldn’t be.

“Jake?” she questioned.

He cleared his throat. “There’s a clearing two klicks southeast. I’m gonna go meet them, lead them back here with a stretcher, save you walking.”

“I can walk just fine,” she insisted, “amongst other things.”

“The moment’s passed,” he said, walking further into the room to grab the jeans he’d thrown on the floor. “Let’s just forget it.”

“What if I don’t want to forget it?”

He shrugged, “I’m sure Fanboy will be happy to help you forget it.”

She huffed a mirthless laugh, “so that’s how it’s going to be.”

“Vegas was fun while it lasted, Rodeo.” It had been fun. He wasn’t lying, but he had to sell it. Tone dripping with nonchalance, he added, “Fun’s over. We don’t need to play at being friends anymore,” as he walked out of the room.

The Hard Deck was packed. Jake had barely been there ten minutes before he and Javy attracted a group of pretty women to flirt and shoot pool with, though his attention was divided. Rooster, Bob, Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback stood around the piano, drinking and talking, and Jake kept glancing over to see if Ryleigh had arrived.

He hadn’t seen her since they’d got back. They’d whisked her off to medical and him to briefings. He spied Fanboy laughing with Bob, and curiosity had him staring while Coyote took his shot.

What did Fanboy have that he didn’t? Why had Ryleigh so easily fallen into bed with Mickey but had repeatedly rebuffed him? He felt his chest tighten, a pang of envy, perhaps?

No. Jake mentally scoffed at himself. Him, jealous? Of Fanboy? Please. The thought was absurd. If anything, he pitted Mickey; he had his hands on something special and didn’t seem to know it.

Jake took his shot after Javy scolded him for being distracted. He potted two balls in the top left corner, winning the game, and winked at his prey for the evening as he straightened up. She giggled, tucking an immaculate brunette curl behind her ear, and though he didn’t know her name yet, he knew he’d won her too.

A rambunctious cheer caught his attention as he approached her, and over her shoulder, he spied the enthusiastic welcome Ryleigh received.

“I’ll be right back,” he said and didn’t wait for a response. He pushed through the crowd and made it to Ryleigh’s side just as Fanboy released her from a tight embrace.

“Rodeo,” he said, tapping her elbow to get her attention.

She turned to him as did everyone else, except she was the only one with a welcoming smile. “Hey, Jake.”

“Jake?” Rooster commented, confusion knitted his brow, “but he’s Bagman!”

“No more Bagman,” she scolded and looked at each of them in turn, “it’s Hangman or Seresin.”

“Okay, what happened between you two?” Phoenix asked.

“Nothing,” snapped Jake, quicker than he perhaps should have, and instantly regretted approaching her. He should have waited and caught her when she was alone.

“Yeah, okay,” Fanboy said, and it was clear no one was buying it.

“The kegs in the car,” Rooster said, “let’s turn and burn. I got some money to win.”

The group collectively groaned and gave him shit, but they all gulped the last of their drinks, and Jake took the opportunity to nod to Ryleigh, silently asking her to move away from the group, out of earshot.

“Go ahead,” she told Mickey when he hesitated to follow the group, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Suspiciously he spied Jake over the top of her head as he moved to tuck himself against the nearest wall but didn’t comment. Fanboy kissed the top of her head, “don’t be long.”

The familiar and almost flippant way Ryleigh tiptoed to kiss his lips made Jake clench his fists at his sides. He took deep calming breaths to keep himself from clenching his jaw.

Ryleigh waited until Mickey was a few feet away before she turned and limped toward Jake. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he snapped unintentionally. The jealousy catching him off guard, he continued before she could question his attitude. “I just wanted to catch up and see how you’re doing. Haven’t seen you since we got back, and I’m headed home tomorrow. Why are you limping?”

“I’ve spent days being poked, prodded, and assessed,” she groaned but smiled playfully, “but Docs say I get to keep my leg. Apparently, I had good first aid or something.”

“So celebrating?” he asked, pointing toward the group as they made their way out of the bar.

“I’m supposed to be resting, doctor's orders,” she explained, “but Rooster decided I can rest and have a poker night. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Not sure Fanboy would appreciate my attendance,” he chuckled, though, in truth, he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing them together. “And as tempting as it is to take their money, I got my own thing going on,” he said, nodding toward the brunette he planned to take home.

She followed his line of sight and saw the pretty woman staring back at them, a smug red-painted smile wrapped around the straw of her drink.

“Have fun with that,” she said and only sounded mildly disdainful.

“Have fun with Fanboy,” Jake retorted, matching her tone.

“What the hell is your problem with Mickey?” she snapped, the pain from her leg intensifying the pang of jealousy and the sting of betrayal.

“My problem with him?!” Jake exclaimed quietly, “my problem is that the only thing he wants is for you to be his personal fuck toy, which you claim you don’t want anymore.”

“Why do you care what I want?”

“I don’t,” he snapped.

She scoffed. “So why are we having this conversation?”

He stared her down, and she softened her expression, begging him to say it. Admit that he was jealous and be done with it. But he offered no reply, and reluctantly, she dropped her gaze. What happened in Vegas had clearly stayed there.

“You can’t even….you know what? It doesn’t matter.” She stopped herself, shaking her head before she turned to leave, but Jake caught her arm, and she twisted back.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” he demanded.

It sounded almost pleading. She stared into his hazel eyes, waiting for…what? What did he want her to say? Confess that she felt like something had changed between them. But didn’t him having a conquest already lined up prove it was one-sided?

“‘Cause I’m an idiot,” she explained, somewhat angry but more so at herself for thinking something was different. “Back at the cabin, I thought…”

The bell of the Hard Deck rang out, and the patrons erupted into cheers, cutting her off.

“What did you think, Ryleigh?”

There was that tone again, imploring but still cautious. She couldn’t do this, not with him. Her sigh was heavily laden with regret as she looked over at his intended conquest. Meeting his eyes again, she mirthlessly smiled, “Whatever it was, I guess it melted with the snow.”

“I guess we’ll always have Vegas, huh?” Jake shrugged.

Humorlessly, she chuckled, then kissed his cheek and hobbled away.

Jake couldn’t decide whether it was a really good idea or a downright going to get his ass kicked into next week, colossal asshole of an idea? It didn’t matter, not really. Regardless, he felt he had no choice. He couldn’t go another minute without knowing, without doing it, at least once.

The woman he’d taken home was drop dead, trophy wife pretty, she was smart too, a lawyer or something. He hadn’t been paying that close attention, but the more she spoke and they kissed, the more Jake compared her to Ryleigh.

It was ridiculous and all-consuming. He’d asked the woman for her address, and when the cab pulled up outside her place, he’d apologized and given the driver a new address.

Now his feet carried him up the concrete path, and as the cab pulled away from the curb, he realized he perhaps should have asked him to wait. He might have needed a ride to the hospital after.

He knocked on the door with more force and speed than he intended, but his heart was pounding, with nothing but white noise in his ears and the desperate need to complete his mission.

The door opened, and the breeze of the motion fluttered Ryleigh’s hair around her face. She hadn’t even finished saying his name before he cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. It was sloppy, and their teeth clashed.

She grabbed onto his hips to steady her stumble, and after her initial shock subsided, she shocked him by tugging him closer, rising to the tips of her toes, and slipping her arms around his neck.

It wasn’t as frantic as he’d expected, not the ‘I want to rip your clothes off’ impatience he usually found. Yet, she widened her mouth to allow his tongue to find hers and swallowed down a groan he didn’t recognize as his own.

She tasted like red wine, and he hoped she wasn’t drunk enough that she was just caught up in the moment and she’d come to her senses.

His stomach flipped and rolled, doing somersaults, and he felt giddy and anxious, all wrapped up as one strange and unfamiliar feeling. A rumble gathered in his chest, and it wasn’t until Ryleigh smiled into the kiss he realized it had been a contented hum from a depth he never knew existed.

Ryleigh pulled away, and though he wanted the moment to last forever, he loosened his grip and slowly opened his eyes to stare into hers.

Time ceased to exist. The heart hammering in his chest felt at odds with his usual cocksure attitude, leaving him unsteady and faltering. He wasn’t sure what to say. An apology seemed stupid. She’d reciprocated, so what did he have to be sorry for? Any admission of wonderment seemed redundant. He knew it was written in his expression.

Say something, he begged of himself. Tell her you want her in all the depraved ways you’ve dreamt and the ways she’d described; unconditional trust, no inhibitions, no fear of rejection or judgment, someone to lean on.

His brain scrambled to catch up while he willed his mouth to form words, but Phoenix called from inside, “Ryleigh. What’s going on?” interrupted.

“Give me a second,” she hollered, holding Jake’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Jake scolded himself in a tight whisper, stepping backward. “Sorry.”

“Strike out at the bar?” she asked smugly.

“No. What?” he asked, confusion creasing his brow.

“Well, you’re here,” she explained, “I assume you struck out with the brunette, so you’re trying your luck with me.” It wasn’t an unfair assumption, and she silently prayed he’d deny that he’d struck out and tell her that he had chosen to seek her company instead.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t know what he was doing, but clearly, it didn’t matter. Ryleigh had drawn her conclusions. She didn’t see what he felt, couldn’t see that he wanted to change, that being the terminator no longer worked for him.

“Then what are you-”

“Come on, Rolo,” Bradshaw yelled, interrupting her, “it’s your turn!”

“Forget it,” Jake said, “I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” she said, but he barely heard it. Spinning on his heels, he walked away as quickly as he could without running.

Part 5 - About Last Night

Tag List Info can be found here

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

Tags: Take to the skies: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @atarmychick007

Hangman's Hoe's: @deanwinchesterswitch / @dempy / @emorychase

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randomvarious · 7 months ago

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Today's compilation:

Boom 2001 2001 Pop / Latin Pop / Adult Contemporary / Europop / Dance-Pop / R&B

Man, I feel like I haven't done one of these super ridiculous turn-of-the-millennium Now That's What I Call Music!-type Euro comps in a very long and hot minute. And I really do tend to love these things for a few different reasons: one, you get a nice nostalgia rush with a bunch of good and fun hits from yesteryear that were popular on a global scale; two, you get to learn what another part of the world was rocking to in addition to all those global hits; and three, because pop industries all across Europe can't seem to ever help themselves, you also get some of the most mindlessly schlocky and cringiest trash imaginable 🤩. And fortunately, for better or worse, this end-of-2001 dispatch from Spain's then-long-running Boom series manages to pack all of that in here.

youtube

So, ultimately, what we have with this release is a pair of discs. One consists of songs that are sung entirely in English—except for an inexplicably lacking, instrumental version of *NSYNC's "Pop"?!—and the other one is fully in Spanish.

And disc one, naturally, contains all the classic bops that were both popular in Spain and elsewhere. With a bunch of these, you basically have what amounts to some of the most essential items for a totally killer 2001 pop playlist. There's Kylie Minogue's brilliant "Can't Get You Out of My Head;" Gorillaz' idyllically summery Soulchild remix of "19-2000," which actually features none other than the Talking Heads' own Tina Weymouth on backing vocals; Janet Jackson's "All for You," which samples the Italo-disco, Luther Vandross-led classic, "The Glow of Love" by Change, that was also sampled around the same time by duo Phats & Small for their own house banger, "Turn Around;" and Daft Punk's never-going-out-of-style "One More Time." Just pure, lovely early aughts heat in every single one of those 🔥.

But then there's the rest of this thing, which happens to come with a couple of those very distinct and personally sought after "what in the fuck am I actually listening to right now?"-type moments. One of these is a contemporary Eurodisco tune from some entity named Fundación Tony Manero called "Super Sexy Girl." Just peep some of the elite and super nuanced songwriting that went into making this total masterpiece:

Yup! I mean, how terrific is that? Isn't it amazing that someone would take the time to record something like this and then have a big label push it out and then have it included on a comp like this too? Just phenomenal work all around by everyone involved as far as I'm concerned. If your hand touched this specimen in any way, I would just like to personally say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you 🙏🥹.

And then for another healthy dose of unbelievable crap, we have—yep, you totally guessed it!—a Spanish-language cover of Billy Ray Cyrus' mega-country hit, "Achy Breaky Heart," delivered by a Mexican singer named Coyote Dax. Now, if you thought the world had left "Achy Breaky" behind and in the dust all the way back in 1992, I just don't think you understand, because this beast went all the way to the motherfuckin' top in Spain almost a whole decade later. Can't say I was expecting to hear anything quite like this on this album in particular, so, once again, the only thing I can say is that I'm forever grateful for it 🙏.

But folks, not all of the rest of this thing is bad. There's a genuinely interesting song from some band called Shivaree who are one of those groups who never achieved any real success at home in the US, but still managed to chart on the other side of the Atlantic. And I don't know if "Goodnight Moon" is fully representative of their sound, but it *kinda* sounds like if a young Britney Spears had been given some made-for-Amy-Winehouse, retro country-gothic-type music to sing over; especially when frontwoman Ambrosia Parsley gets to morphing her voice into something distinctly sweeter. And if you've seen a specific pair of episodes of Dawson's Creek, then you've definitely heard this song before too.

And lastly, I guess I never actually knew that this existed in the first place, but there's a Spanish-language version of J. Lo's "Ain't It Funny" on here; not the much more popular remix with Ja Rule that sampled Craig Mack's "Flava in Ya Ear," but the much less remembered and completely different original version. If you like that one, then you'll probably enjoy it in a different tongue too as "Que ironía." Well-made, catchy Latin pop.

So, really glad that I got what I came for with this. A pretty excellent trip down memory lane, an education on some other stuff that hit big in Spain like that Shivaree song, and then some truly atrocious, can't-turn-it-off-like-I-can't-look-away-from-a-car-accident wonders 😍. Five outta five on the 'Boom Meter' indeed.

Highlights:

CD1:

Kylie Minogue - "Can't Get You Out of My Head" Gorillaz - "19/2000" Destiny's Child - "Independent Women, Part 1" Janet Jackson - "All for You" Atomic Kitten - "Eternal Flame" Dido - "Here With Me" Fundación Tony Manero - "Super Sexy Girl" Safri Duo - "Played-A-Live (The Bongo Song)" Depeche Mode - "I Feel Loved" Lenny Kravitz - "Again" Modjo - "Chillin" Daft Punk - "One More Time" Roxette - "The Centre of the Heart" Shivaree - "Goodnight Moon"

CD2:

Jennifer Lopez - "Que ironía" Coyote Dax - "No rompas mi corazón"

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usermischief · 2 years ago

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I go wild over 3B because Stiles was a missing person not once but twice that season, and both times, this is followed by death and chaos. What the hell did Coach and the teams think of Stiles reappearing just moments before Coach got shot? This is the very first time the teams have seen Stiles since he was declared a missing person, they had no idea he had been found, yet not one of them has time to ask questions. Were there any students who had a late night in Riddled and heard their phone go off with an Amber Alert for Stiles because a kid going missing at the same time as an attack should probably be grounds for sending one out? Imagine waking up and learning your classmate went missing, was found in a coyote den, went to the hospital, there was some kind of an attack on the hospital that killed/injured who knows how many people including your other classmate and the police aren’t revealing who did the attack or even how the wire ended up on the ground, and the other classmate went missing again. I’d transfer out so fast. Also, let’s not forget, the first classmate turns back up just in time for the coach to get shot and for there to be a bomb at his father’s workplace, and the bomb threat on your school bus contained his father’s name plate. Also, you’ve seen this kid around a few times after this and you’re pretty sure there’s corpses with more color in their skin than him, he was briefly unable to read for a bit there and kept zoning out like he didn’t know where he was and this happened right before he went missing so maybe that had something to do with it, and his friends are all acting super weird about him, they keep talking like he’s responsible for the recent deaths but they also act like he’s not responsible so it’s freaking Schrödinger’s responsibility up in here. In addition, the kid injured at the hospital briefly turned up and as you walked to the doors after making up a test you missed last week, you saw him trying to murder those twins he hates for some reason (you once overheard those two asking McCall if they could join him in his probable/hopeful-cult that he calls a pack, only for Stilinski to laugh and shut them down and Lahey to jump in and say they helped murder Boyd a bit ago so they can get fucked. You’ve never forgotten Lahey threatening to murder them and Stilinski nodding emphatically like he thought this was a fantastic idea; you make a note to avoid ever touching those that the “eye for an eye” twins love because evidently they believe in revenge homicide. You ducked your head down and refused to think about anything they said and prayed the bit about claws was a metaphor, you’re drawing your line at werewolves existing), and you really hope that was just makeup on his face. McCall’s ex-girlfriend and the new girl are both there, trying to stop this, and why does she have a sword?! You pretend you see nothing and ask your parents about how they feel about moving across the country, you want to get as far away from this as possible. 3B is such a wild ride from the perspective of the students because they have to be noticing some things, there had to be some sort of notification sent out that the sheriff’s son had gone missing and this occurred when the hospital was attacked (and the students would know the timing because Coach brings up Stiles and Isaac at the same time to the team), and the very next time they see Stiles, the Coach gets shot. Also, Danny was right there when Ethan and Aiden had their fight that Isaac stopped, other students were probably around as well. The fact that there are any students left after 3B is perhaps the biggest mystery of all, how are parents letting their kids attend this school? It’s like Hogwarts in terms of danger really

And it's not getting better in the next three seasons.

#*answered.

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blubushie · 2 years ago

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leafanon here! for the ask game: literally do all of them. coward.

Oi! Be a little nicer to me leafanon, I’m sensitive!

1: Who is/are your comfort characters?

Look at my blog, mate. Have a guess.

It’s Jesse and Mundy. Both of them. At the same time. 25% Jesse, 75% Mundy.

2: Lighter or matches?

Lighter! I’ve got two. Both are Zippos. My first ever lighter I bought was this one because I liked the colour and design. The one I currently use is this one but I have “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, for I am the evilest son of a bitch in the valley” engraved on the back. It’s the same thing my dad had engraved on his lighter in Vietnam. On the lid it says “If you wanna root smile when you give this lighter back” because I thought it was funny. It hasn’t worked yet but that’s only because no one’s asked me for a light.

3: Do you leave the window open at night?

I can’t sleep unless it’s open.

4: Which cryptid do you believe in?

Unironically most of them. I am convinced of the existence of the Loch Ness Monster, I’m convinced of sasquatch from personal experience, I have personally seen a yahoo, I’ve met ghosts, and I’ve seen UFOs. I believe that there’s creatures in Kakadu that are still Dreaming. I think the chupacabra is a coyote/fox with mange but I am convinced that it does exist. THERE ARE PANTHERS IN THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

5: What colour are your eyes?

Blue-grey. Blue in sunlight, grey indoors. Colour depends on how much light they’re getting.

6: Why did you do that?

Because I wanted to.

7: Hair-ties or scrunchies?

Only ever grew my hair out once where it was long enough to need tying up and even then I rarely tied it up, but ties. They’re versatile.

8: How many water bottles are in your room right now?

One. Both of my canteens are in Matilda.

9: Which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Hot. I don’t trust people what drink cold coffee. You psychos scare me.

10: Would you slaughter the rich?

I don’t really do politics.

11: Favourite extracurricular activity?

Bushwalking. Hunting. Fishing. Writing.

12: What kind of day is it?

A really nice one. It’s night now but the frogs are croaking away outside with the crickets. Sky’s clear.

13: When was the last time you ate?

About an hour ago. Make one of those instant pasta meals.

14: Do you love the smell of the earth after it rains?

YES.

15: Are you a parent?

I have Misty. She definitely makes me feel like I'm parenting a toddler.

16: Can you drive?

I’m an excellent driver.

17: Are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Only slightly nearsighted. It’s not enough where it really has any effect, and I don’t have to wear glasses or anything. My vision is practically 20/20.

18: What hair products do you use?

Dog shampoo and the Sheila hates me for it. On the plus side it leaves me smelling nice and I don’t have fleas. It’s also a bonus because I can bathe Misty at the same time I bathe myself, which is how it all started anyway (she just HAD to pull me into the tub). Usually I’m doing spongebaths or bathing in rivers without any soap (I’m not going to fuck up an ecosystem just because I want to smell nice) but when I do find a hotel that takes animals or when I’m here in California, out comes the dog shampoo. I use TropiClean now. Smells like citrus.

19: Imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

I haven’t painted anything in years and I’ve never painted anyone’s nails, but I’ve got a very steady hand so I reckon I could try.

20: Do you say soda or pop?

Neither. Fizz. It’s fizzy drink.

21: What’s something you’ve kept since childhood?

My stuffed bear. His name is Mr Bear because I wasn’t a very creative 2-year-old when I named him. I’ve had him since I was a baby.

22: What kind of person are you?

The… people kind? Scratch that. The cryptid kind. There’s at least two towns in Australia what have folklore about a ghost accompanied with a dog and a rifle slung across his shoulders. The amount of times I’d taken the piss out of people making that story come true is hilarious to me (and one of them is a story that originated within the past two years so I might actually be responsible for that one. Oops.)

23: How do you feel about chilly weather?

I don’t mind it at all. My area of California routinely gets frosts and hail (but never snow). Rural California taught me to tolerate cold, Australia taught me to tolerate heat.

24: If we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

Drinking beer and stargazing. There’s literally no other reason for being on a rooftop, unless some assassin shit is going down, in which case I wouldn’t bring you with me because no witnesses.

25: Perfume/body spray or lotion?

Neither. My only fragrance is Hoppe’s #9, tobacco, and campfire smoke clinging to my clothes.

26: A scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

First time the Sheila read my fic and she gave me her thoughts on it. I go back and re-read that at least once a week. I live for it and sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me writing.

Also just talking to people in general. I sit in Matilda and rehearse what I’m going to say for minutes before I actually go into the servo to get something. I always have a plan.

27: About how many hours of sleep do you get?

Usually anywhere from six to nine but I can run off 20-minute catnaps every few hours if needed for about 3 days before I need at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep (yes I’ve tested this).

28: Do you wear a mask?

I’m not around people. Ever. I wore a mask to my allergist the other day though. Unless it's required I'm not wearing one.

29: How do you like your shower water?

Cold. Hot is a luxury I can’t get used to.

30: Is there dishes in your room?

No. I always do my washing up immediately after eating. Handwash, hand dry, put them away.

31: What kind of music keeps you grounded?

Country.

32: Do you have a favourite towel?

No. Do people normally have favourite towels?

33: The last adventure you’ve been on?

Hunting in WA.

34: Is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Waltzing Matilda. Also And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda. Also Give Me a Home Among the Gumtrees.

35: What’s your timezone?

Right now? PDT.

36: How many times have you changed your URL?

I’ve only ever had one account before this (back when I was around 12) and lost the password. I’ve never changed this one’s URL since I made it.

37: Who is someone in your life (besides a relative) that you’ve known for 10+ years?

My rifle.

38: What’s a soap bar that smells good?

All of them? Reckon that’s the point of soap.

39: Do you use lip balm?

Like chapstick? No because I’m not a sook. Let your dehydrated lips crack and bleed like a real man.

40: Did you have any snacks today?

No.

41: How do you like your coffee?

Black as my soul. Really though, I like it black. No milk, no sugar.

42: What’s an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken website?

None. I have a Twitter but I only follow artists on there and I never use it.

43: What’s your take on spicy foods?

I don’t like spice. Burns my tongue. I’ll leave that to the ethanol.

44: You get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Fuck off, FBI.

45: Can you remember what happened yesterday?

I went to the allergist, came home, took Misty for a long walk, made dinner, finished up a scene for chapter 11 and then got some paragraphs in for the next scene where Jesse is lusting after Mundy because he’s hot and then the Sheila and I spent twenty minutes sharing in communal brainrot over it.

46: Favourite holiday film?

Somewhere between Polar Express and A Christmas Story.

47: What was the last message you sent?

“Defo been hitting that gym,” referring to Ganondorf in Tears of the Kingdom.

48: When did you first try an alcoholic beverage?

Helped dad and a neighbour muster cattle all day, I was fucking exhausted, covered in sweat, and we lounged around in the shade of an oak tree like a couple of cowhands as we watched the cattle graze. The neighbour’s boy showed up with a few beers in his saddlebags. All four of us shared them. Neighbour’s boy was 17. I was 15. I earned that beer. On that note, I learnt to make screwdrivers when I was 10. I make a damn good screwdriver.

49: Can you skip rocks?

Excellently.

50: Can I tag you in random stuff?

Of course! I love being tagged in things. Bonus points for anything related to Sniper, Australia, or animals.

#blu whos

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mad-hunts · 10 months ago

Note

“ nothing clever to say? ”

barton had absolutely no idea how he had gotten here. just that one moment, he was cruising down a hill country road in a stolen car and the next moment, he was here — blood dripping from his temple like a faucet, dirt and scratches all over his face, in addition to being in the middle of seemingly nowhere. what a great way to spend his weekend. he must've hit his head or something, barton reasoned, because there couldn't be possibly any other explanation as to why he couldn't remember a thing. his legs felt like jelly whenever he managed to finally get up from his position... in a ditch, within some woods? he barely had the strength to muster up a groan as he walked north in this ever-elusive place he was in. alright, he thought, there must be some kind of landmarks here that will tell him where he is.

barton paid close attention to absolutely everything as he made his way through the woods. or, at least, as much attention as a person with a severely throbbing head and nearly unbearable light sensitivity could. after limping through the words and yes, barton believed limping would be the most appropriate term for it, he was starting to feel inclined to give up. like maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if he stopped here and succumbed to the sleep that was trying desperately to claim him. he hadn't seen any landmarks that he could recognize and as if he was in some cheesy horror movie, the trees looked to go on for forever. but oh. wait, wait, wait. barton could see a clearing in the distance, with a stream, and two distinct paths running alongside of it.

thank the god's or whatever higher beings there may be out there. gripping for purchase against a tree, barton finally reached the clearing and that is where he found it. a backpack. now, this would've certainly raised some alarm bells to a much more conscious version of himself, but all he could focus on right now was how hungry he was. his priorities were all over the place, it seemed. though granted, barton felt as if he were a moving thing instead of a person right now, that was starving and bleeding and tired all at once. and he could only take care of those one at a time. a thought had popped up in the back of his mind that said, hey, perhaps you shouldn't do this, but barton quickly silenced it. if there was food inside of that backpack, he had to take it. his delirium led him to believe that the person who owned the backpack probably wouldn't miss one piece of food anyway.

that was when he heard an unfamiliar voice as he turned to look behind him and looked to be caught red-handed by the person who owned it. ohh, le christ sur un bâton*, why did he always have the worst luck — barton immediately dropped the apple he'd swiped from her bag and almost tripped over it while proceeding backwards. he probably looked bad, that much he knew. barton could use that to his advantage to get out of here. a choked laugh bubbled to the surface, followed by an unnatural movement of his leg while he took one more step backwards, as his legs still felt like they weren't attached to his very body. barton had enough sense to put his hands up in surrender then.

❝ ahh. that belongs to you, hmm? you must think i must be a fool for trying to steal from you in broad daylight. but if i'm being honest, you had left it unattended and if i hadn't seen it first, it's very possible something much less savory would've gotten to it. like a coyote or a bear. sorry, who are you? ❞ barton knew that he was absolutely failing at trying to defend himself against the other, so he stopped before he could dig himself further into a hole. a breath stopped in his throat whenever he felt something wet trickle down the side of neck as well. he reached up to touch it, and discovered that the cut he had on his temple extended much further than he thought. it was also on the side of his head. crap, crap, crap.

❝ actually — nevermind, you don't have to answer that. where is this? i mean, where are we? you seem to know your way around. if you can tell me where the nearest exit is out of this maze, i'll never bother you again. or i'll get you all the apples you want to make up for it. whatever, i don't care. i just need to... go. ❞

( * christ on a stick. )

#volegne #barton being half-looped and almost stealing from windowmaker in the process is crazyyy #if only he knew who she really was he would be like ' oh ' and take off immediately JSJSJ #he is DEFINITELY not in a state to fight in any case haha but yeah. i hope you like this response!

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years ago

Text

It’s A Long Way To The Top 🎸 | Pete Maverick Mitchell / Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic) Hondo (platonic)

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 13.5k

Social Media matching HC

Premise: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Note: So TC was born in 1962 and that what it also says for Maverick (although with his rank I doubt it lines up but Imma just go with it), so for this imagine you were born in 1964 and were the front woman of a famous 80s rock band who Mav meets after the events of Top Gun. I love rock music and have been listening to it nonstop the past week and this inspired me. At first I was gonna do this with Rooster or Phoenix with a modern day rockstar, but then I thought Mav was better suited for what I had planned.

Also in my research I found that the Staples Center (which is going to mentioned a lot) opened in 1999 and is now called Crypto.com Arena, but for this just imagine it opened in the 80s and is still called the Staples Center. Personally I will always refer to it as that even though it got a new name. Last thing, my favorite band is AC/DC and i use two of their songs as ‘your’ songs verbally said. The album/era names are ones I thought of off the bat, and feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave them names to make it easier when writing. And the photo on the collage is to show the outfit reference—I don’t write with any indication of race/ethnicity/etc unless it’s for an OC. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

————————————

“Are you guys sure about not warning Rooster we’re coming?” Bob voiced from the passenger side of Nat’s car. In the backseat were Mickey and Payback while Hondo drove the car behind them containing Hangman and Coyote.

“Bradshaw will spoil the surprise,” Fanboy reminds him, “And the whole point of this is to surprise Mav. We haven’t seen him in months and this is the first time we’re all together again.”

“I know,” Bob sighs, leaning back into his seat before glancing at Nat, “How did you even get his address, Nat?”

She doesn’t stray her eyes from the road as she responds, “I may have convinced Admiral Simpson to give it to me, saying we all wanted to send Mav a birthday gift but didn’t have his permanent residence. I know he’s often in the Mojave desert during his vacation, but Cyclone gave me his San Diego home address.”

“Hondo didn’t even have Mav’s address?” Mickey says more to himself, surprised the man did not. He was Mav’s closest friend and had been with him since the Darkstar project.

“Hondo only had his Mojave camp—which isn’t really an address when you think about it. It’s quite literally on an old airstrip that’s not even used by the Navy anymore,” Nat tells him, “Mav lived there during their assignment so it makes sense why he only had that one.”

“So what I’m hearing is you deceived Admiral Simpson so we can show up on Mav’s doorstep like ‘surprise! We’re here!’ And Cyclone just gave it to you with no questions asked?” Payback raises a brow, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Not entirely,” she defends, “I mean we are sending him a birthday gift…..it’s just we are the birthday gift.” At the laughs from the men Nat rolls her eyes, “Y’all are in this too, so I don’t know why you’re laughing. We’re almost there. GPS says ten minutes.”

The Pacific Ocean was to their right, the sun high in the sky as the time reached one o’clock. They noticed as they traveled down the road that the houses were becoming more distant and eye-catching. “Damn,” Fanboy whistled under his breath at one point.

When they got to the turn to enter the neighborhood, they were greeted with a closed gate and security. Nat mentally cursed, not anticipating Mav lived in a gated community.

Now the jig was up and they were gonna have to call Rooster.

While Nat spoke with one of the security guards Bob was already dialing Bradley, who answered with a confused, “Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

“Rooster, hey, I’m sorry to bother you but the squad and I were planning to surprise Maverick for his birthday tonight and well….we’re kinda at the entrance to his neighborhood. We didn’t think it would be gated and needed confirmation from the resident to get in.”

“Ah damn,” Bradley said with a laugh and Bob could hear him fiddling with his keys. “I wish y’all would’ve told me, but then again I know I probably would’ve ruined it.” It was the truth, Rooster could not keep a secret if his life depended on it. Last year he unintentionally spoiled Nat’s surprise party when she got promoted. Soon it became a running joke amongst the group. “Just hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

“Wait, are you at Mav’s house?” All eyes in the car turned to Bob, the WSO catching the sound of Rooster’s Bronco starting up.

“Yeah, I’m on the list and can get y’all in. Hang on, imma tell him I’m running out to get beers.” There was a pause on the receiver before a car door shuts and Rooster says, “I’ll be there in two minutes.” Bob stayed on the line before hanging up when they caught sight of the bright blue vehicle approaching from the other side of the gate. Rooster pulled off to the side, exited the car and approached the security hut where another officer met him in the middle. The team watched as they exchanged words before the guard Nat spoke with was called over.

When he returned seconds later he said, “we’re gonna open the gate and if you could please pull off to where my buddy directs you and step out. We have to check the cars.”

“Sure thing,” Nat says with a wave as he goes to relay the same to Hondo. Passing the gate, she parks the car where the guard instructs and all four step out from the vehicle. Hondo pulls up seconds later with Hangman and Coyote coming over to stand with the group as Rooster approaches.

“Well this sure is some special treatment,” Hangman jokes when an officer comes up with a metal detector to begin scanning the squad while the two search their cars. He notices one of the officers writing down the car information, including the license plate number. “Never seen this before when I’ve been to a gated neighborhood.”

“It’s just precaution since it’s your first time” Rooster says, dabbing up the guys when they are finished being scanned. “It’s good to see you guys.”

“It’s good to see you too, Bradshaw,” Nat gives him a hug and appears apologetic. “Sorry we didn’t let you know in advance.”

“Ah it’s all good. Like I told Bob I probably would’ve ruined it.” They all laugh, some muttering sounds of agreement. It was all in good heart though, Bradley wasn’t offended. He was just happy to see his friends again and celebrate Mav’s 60th with them.

The only thing….they were in for their own surprise when they got to the house.

“Does the governor of California live here or something?” Javy jokes, but judging by the way Rooster reacts he’s certain there is some truth to it.

“All clear!” The main guard shouts, nodding to Rooster. “Y’all are free to go, just make sure to call in if you leave the area and return later on.”

“Will do,” Rooster salutes, shaking his hand afterwards. “Thanks again, Frank.” Telling his friends to follow behind him, they all got into their respective vehicles and headed down the road leading to the neighborhood.

“Sheeeesh,” Mickey says in awe at some of the houses they passed. They looked to be a million bucks. Literally. They were distanced quite a bit like something you see in Calabasas and had long entrances. “Mav should be on MTV’s cribs. How the hell does a naval Captain get something like this?”

“Probably by saving for that perfect retirement home,” Nat comments, eyes lingering on one house that caught her eyes.

“Nah,” Payback shakes his head, “I’ve seen Admirals with places not even to this extent. No offense to Mav, but I don’t see how an O-6 could afford a place like this.” About a minute passed before they were turning into a long driveway, all four jaws dropping at the sight of the home.

Yeah they needed to know Pete’s secret.

It was a gorgeous two-story mediterranean style home with an iron gate surrounding the perimeter. The exterior was beautiful, with flowers and various plants on the grounds. A front enclosed patio was the first thing they could see connecting to a foyer where the front door was located. Only one word could describe the home: marvelous.

The driveway was crescent shaped and could fit at least four cars with a side entrance leading to the garage. Rooster pulled up to the furthest spot allowing Nat and Hondo to pull up behind him. “Holy shit,” Fanboy says in awe, hopping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

Shutting his own door, Hangman whistles, “If this is what retirement looks like, I can’t wait.”

“C’mon,” Rooster chuckles, nodding his head to the entrance. “Mav’s in the garage working on his bike.” The squad all rushes to get the gifts, beer, and food they had brought for the pilot, following behind Rooster while trying to not make it look like they were gawking at the home. They hadn’t even seen the inside yet but could already tell it was going to be as incredible as the outside.

Putting a finger to his lips, the group remains quiet at Rooster’s command as they ease their way into the garage. It was very similar to the one at his camp hangar in the desert. Pictures hung on a wall with several plaques. Motorcycles lined up and sitting in the corner was a gorgeous 1966 Dodge Charger. Coyote had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making a sound when he saw it.

“That you, Bradley?” Mav said with his back to the group, unaware his practically surrogate son was not alone. He was dressed in a greased up white tee with some old light washed jeans and boots. Playing on the radio was the 80s on 8 channel from SiriusXM.

“Yeah it’s me,” Rooster places a case of beers the squad brought on the counter near the fridge. “I brought some strays too while I was at it.”

“Strays? What—?” Mav laughs, moving to turn around which resulted in his mouth dropping and wrench clinking to the floor.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted, grinning widely at their former instructor who was completely speechless. “Happy Birthday, Mav!”

“Wha-oh my gosh!” The pilot's feet moved before he could stop them, embracing Phoenix first since she was closest before doing the same to the others. As he pulls away from Hondo, patting his back Mav goes, “What’re you doing here?”

“Surprising you for your birthday, old man,” Hangman lightly punches his shoulder. “You’re turning the big six-zero, there was no way we were missing it.”

“Aww thanks guys,” the man blushes, grinning when they bombard him with gifts. “It’s so good to see you all—I-I wish I would’ve known you were coming.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, Cap,” Fanboy points to him with a knowing look.

“True,” Mav laughs, directing the crew to put the bags and all on the counter in the garage where the sink was located. “Thank you all so much, you really didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen ya, Mav,” Phoenix tells him, accepting the beer Rooster offers her that was already in the fridge. He passes them out to the crew, except Bob and Mav who kindly decline. Phoenix waves a hand, “Quite the place you got. Rooster had to come save us at the gate.”

Mav raises a brow at Rooster, “You didn’t know about this?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I’m sure you can guess why.” It takes Mav a moment, but then he chuckles, thinking back to the many times Bradley did ruin a surprise. Nat’s promotion party, Hondo’s birthday dinner, and the tickets the group got Mickey to attend SDCC’s Star Wars reunion panel.

“We hope we didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Bob says. “Dropping in unannounced. We weren’t sure if you had anything planned this weekend, but we all took a few days off—got rooms in TLF back at Fightertown, so we would love to take you out for dinner or something this weekend.”

Mav glances at Rooster, who gives a knowing look to the pilot while sipping his beer. The two share a silent exchange of words before he scratches the back of his neck….a few catch the reflective metal of a gold on his left ring finger. Phoenix and Bob’s eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone else spotted what they did.

“Um, well we did have plans tonight—but I can make a call and figure something out. Tomorrow for sure I’m free all day so whatever you guys want to do I’m game.”

“What kind of plans?” Coyote asks before Payback and Hondo nudges him for being nosy. “Owwww.”

Hesitant to reply, Mav gives Rooster another look before nodding his head to the door, “why don’t you guys come inside. Make yourself comfortable while I make a quick call.”

“Are you not going to—,” Mav is quick to cut Bradley off with a wink. Confused, the entire squad look at each other with the same expression before following behind Mav while Rooster is the last to enter and shut the garage door.

Pete doesn’t have to turn around to know they were all gawking at the interior of the home. The first rooms closest to the garage were the laundry room, open kitchen and dining room. Sounds of approaching steps alerted the group and several audibly reacted to the adult Dalmatian, white husky, and golden retriever puppy racing after them.

“Oh my gosh,” Javy kneeled down to pet the Goldie pawing at his legs. “Your dogs are adorable.” The husky was licking at Jake’s face while Phoenix and Bob were occupied with the Dalmatian before each dog inspected each of the guests. “What are their names?”

“That’s Ice,” he pointed to the husky first then the Dalmatian, “Bella.” Lastly he pointed at the puppy, who was kissing up on Mickey, “and Goose.” They spend a good three minutes right there in the kitchen allowing the dogs to receive attention from the squad before Mav directs them to the living room.

And that’s when they pass the cabinet.

A cabinet that was just one of many.

“Uh, Mav,” Payback stops, causing those behind him to do the same, gaze locked on the floor to ceiling glass cabinet—if you could call it that, it was more like a shrine.

Dedicated to one of the world's most renowned rock bands.

“Yeah?” Mav already knew what they were looking at. And that was only scratching the surface compared to the others in the house.

“Say, uh—,” Payback tilts his head, pointing to the cabinet, “Are you like, obsessed with ‘Y/n & the Romantics’,” several eyes trailed along the various shelves lined with actual Grammy awards for ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’, ‘Best Rock Album’, ‘Best Rock Song’, ‘Record of the Year,’ & ‘Album of the Year,’ going back as 1980 to 2021 as the most recent. Other awards included almost a dozen in MTV Moonmen, Billboard Music Awards, American Music Awards, and an Oscar for ‘Best Original Song’. Framed photographs of the band hung on the walls and perched on the shelves. Some included them with famed music legends like Cher, Prince, Micheal Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, Lionel Richie, Def Leppard, and Duran Duran….those of which the squad could make out the signature on the photograph itself. An eye catcher was the USA for Africa signed photograph of every artist, including the Romantics, featured in Michael Jackson’s “We Are The World.”

One shelf pretty much was reserved for all the times they were the musical guests on SNL. Four times to be exact. Another shelf, that had their eyes boggling, was dedicated to their 1999 Super Bowl Halftime performance with a football signed by the band and head coaches of the teams that played that year.

Fanboy nearly shit his pants when he saw the guitars mounted on the wall. Not only were they signed by absolute icons, including Elvis fucking Preseley, but one of which was the iconic checkered neon pink Fender Stratocaster frontwoman Y/n L/n played in the 80s.

Y/n L/n. Dubbed the ‘daughter of Rock ‘n’ Roll’ with a voice that had people say she was what an angel would sound like if they rebelled from God to become a rockstar. Together with some of her best friends from high school, formed the group ‘Y/n & the Romantics,’ signing with a small label in Atlanta, Georgia in 1978 at aged 14 after being discovered on the corner of a street playing covers of Elvis, The Beatles, and Billie Holiday. What had the producer write up a contract right there was when he heard Y/n’s rendition of ‘Crybaby,’ by Janis Joplin. It was as though Janis had been reincarnated. Her voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard.

They released their first single on New Year’s Day of 1979. That first single that had RCA Records knocking on their door and shot them into becoming one of the best selling rock bands of all time. When MTV launched on August 1, 1981, their music video for their Grammy Award winning single was the third to be played after ‘Video Killed The Radio Star,’ by the Buggles, and ‘You Better Run’ by Pat Benatar. Y/n & the Romantics became teen sensations, dominating the 1980s and 90s before going on hiatus in the early 2000s. Y/n was not only known for her recognizable, unique voice but also her split dye hair, leather outfits, stage presence, and signature pink guitar she named, ‘Dirty Shirley.’

And it was in Maverick’s house.

“Holy shit,” Phoenix breathed out, patting Payback to look to the left. That’s when he noticed the wedding picture hung on the wall not too far from where they were standing. The bride, kissing Maverick in the photo, was the same woman holding a Grammy with her bandmates.

Eyes bulging out, Payback whistled and asked what they were all thinking, “Or…. you got something to tell us?”

August 15, 1989. Los Angeles, California. Club Electic Idol

“Tell me, Pete—or do you prefer Maverick?” The blue light shining above her in the bar had the glitter on her face reflect. She was dazzling. Unlike any woman he’d ever met. And Pete met a lot in his career, though they never captivated him like she was now. He wanted to dance with her forever

Arms around his neck, their bodies pressed together as they swayed to the beat of ‘When Doves Cry,’ by Prince. The leather adorning her body was smooth against his fingertips. Completely ignorant of the flashing of cameras from the side and envious gazes of both men and women around them. Never did the pilot think when he, Ice, and Slider agreed on coming to that bar after the concert that he would end up with the frontwoman in his arms. They were just looking for a place to grab a quick drink, maybe dance with a girl or two, and chill before heading back to their hotel.

Guess Y/n & the Romantics were looking to do the same. Fate seemed to bring them together.

“Either is fine, sweetheart.” She smirked at the nickname, finding it amusing. God, even her smirk was sexy. Everything about her was.

“You do that little show of yours each time you see a pretty lady? Or am I just special?”

Damn she caught him.

Truth be told it scared the shit out of him to even think about doing it. Had it not been for the light buzz from drinking a couple beers and encouragement from Ice saying, “You’re the only bloke in this bar who could probably get her into bed if you tried, Mitchell. I saw her eyeing you when you went to pick a song on the jukebox.”

At first he refused. It was Y/n fucking L/n of all people. And there were plenty of people, men and women, who were taking a shot at swooning the rockstar. Left and right they were offering her drinks and asking her to dance. Mav would only go up to her if Ice and Slider sang with him. There was no way in hell he would embarrass just himself. Especially if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted.

The fact it actually did work had the pilot thank his guardian angel, who no doubt had to have been Goose.

“I’ve only done it a few times. The first crashed and burned. Second time actually got me a date,” his lips curled up, “Now I’m hoping the third time’s a charm.”

“I see,” she hummed, never taking her eyes off him. The silence that indicated she was deep in thought. “What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“Honestly, maybe a kiss when the night comes to an end if you’d allow me the honor. But if not I would want you to never forget me. Just like I won’t ever forget you.”

“After a performance like that, Lieutenant, I’ll remember you till the end of time. And about that kiss….” She brings her mouth closer to his, but still enough distance to keep them apart. Pete felt his heart skip at the proximity, the perfume she wore filling his nostrils. “Keep impressing me and it just might come true.”

Present Day

“Wait-wait-wait,” Phoenix laughed with the guys as Maverick finished telling the story of when he went with Slider and Iceman to see Y/n & the Romantics perform at the Staples center in 1989. They were all seated in the living room—which had more framed photos of not just Y/n and her band but also of her and Maverick over the years and Rooster as a child.

Jake took photos of that on his phone to hold for blackmail. Now it made sense why Rooster was always singing their songs on the piano when they would go out.

After giving a quick tour of the first floor of the home, they all settled in the living room with his dogs as Mav sent a text to his lady to call him after soundcheck. Beers were brought out and some snacks, the crew still processing the news as they took it all in. Eventually after a quick explanation, Pete answered the many questions they had, including just how the hell he managed to pull one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist.

Whose band literally had a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and were being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame in just a few months.

“So from what I’m gathering,” Nat points to her forehead, as though she were deep in thought, “If my brain is right on track here….you were, to put it lightly…a groupie?”

“Now hold on—.” Mav tried to say but was cut off by the obnoxious laughter that was Javy, Mickey, and Jake while Bob and Hondo just shook their heads, although they were grinning wide at the insinuation. Rooster was smirking like, ‘told you so.’ Mav sighed, but he was smiling as the laughter died down. “I was not a groupie. Okay—yeah I had the hope I would meet her after the show, but I didn’t go out of my way to make that happen. They just happened to come to the same bar that night—I swear!”

“That literally sounds like what a groupie is, Mav,” Hondo pats his back. “You just got lucky it went in your favor.”

Blushing, Mav coughed lightly as he laughed with the group before adding, “I’d like to point out that nothing … you know, happened, alright? We simply had some drinks, danced…I may have tried serenading her with my rendition of ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,’” the laughter got louder, making his blush deepen, “and then we exchanged addresses to send each other letters—because that’s what you did back in the day or call on the landline. It was history from there.”

“Don’t forget, Mav,” Rooster points at him. “You guys made out and then you exchanged addresses before leaving.” Mav has to cover his face to hide his blush when the group hollar and cheer.

“So how long y’all been together?” Rueben asks, finishing off his beer.

“Since 1990. But we didn’t get married until 2002 after the band went on hiatus.”

“How come?” Phoenix tilted her head curiously.

Though Phoenix and most of the guys were not die hard fans of Y/n & the Romantics, they were familiar with their music of course. As one of the most influential rock bands of all time everyone had heard of them in some way, shape, or form. Their parents often played their records, or they’d hear them on the radio and in movies. The squad were all born in the 1980s & early 90s so by the time they got into their teenage years the band had already stopped releasing music. It wasn’t until late 2020 they announced a reunion with the release of their latest album and were currently on tour across North America. During the hiatus however, Y/n still wrote songs for other artists and even released a few solo records. Some of the Grammy’s in the case belonged to only her and not just with the band.

Personal lives of the band members were not something they knew too well. The only people in the group who had knowledge of some details were Mickey, who was a big fan growing up, and Hondo. Bob was also a fan, having played the drums as a teenager and cited them to be a big influence. On google information showed that the group consisted of Y/n, the lead vocalist who also played guitar, Maya the bass player, Evan the lead guitarist, Danny the drummer, and Ronnie on keys. All of them provided backup vocals on tracks.

Maya and Evan ended up falling in love, confirming long time rumors they were together in 1987 and had three kids over the course of the 90s. Danny married a famous actress in 2000 with whom he had a son. Lastly Ronnie was once married to the lead singer of another rock group before divorcing and finding love with a movie producer from when she landed a role in a tv drama, the two adopted a son and daughter in the early 2000s.

Y/n’s information did actually include the fact she and Maverick met in 1989 when they played at the Staples center, that he was a Captain in the Navy being the only man to shoot down five enemy planes in the last 40 years, and were together for over a decade before finally getting married. They did not have kids and the text read how they liked to keep their personal lives private.

Rooster of course knew everything. The first time he met Y/n was in 1991 when he was 7 years old and looked at her like a second mother growing up. She taught him piano and guitar, let him attend shows when the group were on tour in Virginia, and was always a phone call away even after he and Maverick were at odds. Since she didn’t have kids, Bradley was the closest to what it was like having a son. There was no way she was going to let them drift apart after vowing to Carole she would take care of him. They spoke almost weekly with Rooster updating Y/n on his career and asking when she was getting the band back together, knowing she missed going on the road and performing.

“Soon,” she would tell him with a laugh, “I’m working on some songs in the meantime. We all agreed once the kids are older that we’ll come back.” That was in 2012. Now it was 2022 and finally Y/n & the Romantics were on stage performing for a sold out crowd full of people from all ages. They were all in their late 50s but still knew how to rock n’ roll like the good ole days. Y/n never lost her stage presence, the audience thrived on it. Over the years she took care of her voice so she would sound exactly like she did in the 80s. It was her staple after all.

Answering Nat’s question, Mav gave a light shrug, “It just sorta happened that way honestly. We were happy with how things were—marriage was not for us until then. I should say legally married actually, because here in California the relationship was viewed as common law marriage since we had been together for so many years,” Mav explained before taking a sip of water, “Around the time they disbanded the others had young or were starting to have children so they decided to take a break until the kids were grown up.”

“I think that was the first time I saw my mother cry,” Bob chuckled, fixing his glasses as all eyes turned to him. “My mom was—is a huge fan. Anytime we went on road trips she’d play one of their albums. I think she even saw them live when she was in college—said it was one of the best nights of her life. She had a crush on Danny if I’m not mistaken.” Mav smiles, not surprised it was Danny. In the 80s the man was quite the heartthrob.

“How come you never told us?” Mickey cut in. It was a question all were curious to know. Hondo knew Mav was married, but not to whom. He and Penny had history and were friendly at the Hard Deck so they assumed they were together or possibly going to. Finding out he’s been in a long time relationship with Y/n L/n was the shock of their life.

“We like our privacy. It’s why we waited to get married also, because of how big they were in the 80s and 90s. I got followed by paparazzi in the beginning—which was causing problems with my job. We actually pretended to break up in the late 90s to get them off my back,” Mav shrugs again, “I also don’t like the idea of bragging that my wife is Y/n L/n. I love and respect her so much. Yeah I was a fan of her music, but what made me fall in love with her was getting to know her for who she was. Not Y/n the rockstar, but Y/n the girl who replays her favorite songs if someone talks during it. Who can quote every single line from ‘Dirty Dancing’. Who will scold me for leaving seven half filled water bottles on my nightstand.” Laughs rang out at that. “We personally enjoy letting people discover it on their own, rather than telling them upfront.”

“I still can’t wrap it around my head,” Jake waves a hand to emphasize his point. “That you pulled pretty much the woman all our dads, maybe even moms, had a crush on. Your game is on another level. Like please tell me your secrets, pops.” Phoenix playfully slaps Hangman on the shoulder.

Before he could answer the pilot, Maverick’s phone rings causing him to jolt from the couch. “Give me a moment guys,” excusing himself he goes around the corner into the hallway before answering, “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, is everything good? Your message sounded urgent.”

Mav heard sounds in the background, possibly the crew setting up the stage for the night’s show. “Everything is great….uhh-say is tonight’s show sold out?”

“Yessss,” he could hear the confusion laced in her tone. “At least that was what I was told by Hank. Why? Did Bradley want to bring a friend? I’m sure I can get a pass.” Mav let out a sigh, scratching his chin.

“If it’s too much to ask then don’t worry about it, I know you gotta get back to soundcheck and have a few hours until the concert starts. But my former students from a few years ago surprised me today to celebrate my birthday. They’re here at the house—Bradley didn’t even know they were coming, honey.”

Y/n laughed, “I wouldn’t have bet money on him to know,” they laughed together, Y/n following with, “But that’s so sweet of them! I know how much you’ve missed them since you retired last year. How long are they in town?”

“Just for the weekend. They all got rooms on base and were hoping to take me out either tonight or possibly tomorrow. I told them I had plans tonight….”

“But you didn’t tell them what plans, huh?” Mav could picture the smirk on her face. “Do they know?”

“About us? I just finished telling them why I never mentioned anything. They seem to understand and were apologetic for dropping in unannounced. But…..I have not told them that the last stop in your tour is tonight at the Staples Center and Bradley and I were going to be leaving in a few hours.”

“Who all is it?”

“My buddy Hondo from when I did the Darkstar project—I think I’ve told you about him, the two foxtrot teams I did the uranium mission with and two of my reserves. So seven total.”

“I see,” Y/n humed, finding her husband’s situation amusing. He let out a groan, apologizing but she just laughed and said, “Well since it is your birthday and I’ve been wanting to meet your little dagger ducklings forever now,” he smiled at the nickname Y/n had given the pilots. They really were his ducklings. “Let me talk with Hank and the venue manager. Show doesn’t start till seven so there’s plenty of time. Just hang tight and I’ll call you back, okay? I know you're probably losing your mind because you don’t want to miss tonight’s show knowing it’s the last of the tour, but you also want to spend time with them while they're in town. Imma make sure you get both, pretty boy…..and maybe a little something more when the night comes to a close.”

Fuck that got Mav blushing, knowing exactly what she was implying. “Y/n…”

“Love you, Pete. Wait for my call.” Telling her the same, Mav hangs up the phone and reenters the living room. Rooster immediately meets his eye, lifting a thumbs up to which Mav returns with a gesture to signify he was working on it. For the next thirty minutes the squad makes small talk until his phone rings again. “Hey.”

“Would it be okay if you put me on speaker?”

A smile forms on his lips, “Sure thing,” he looks at the group to catch their attention, “Someone wants to say hi,” they all, minus Rooster who’s smirking, watch with confused expressions as Mav hits the speaker button and places the phone on the table. “What have you got for us, honey?” The second the pet name leaves his lips, Mav sees Fanboy drop his now empty cup of water, Phoenix slap a hand over her mouth, Javy pushing Jake and vice versa muttering ‘holy shit.’ Everyone else pretty much does something similar when Y/n’s voice echoes through the receiver, “Hello hello, aviators.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yo this ain’t happening right now.”

“Guys, guys, shut up—holy shit.”

Y/n laughed at the reactions. “It’s so nice to finally—even if it’s over the phone at the moment—meet you guys! Pete talks about you all everyday.”

“I-I wish we could say the same about you, ma’am,” Payback nervously laughs. “We didn’t even know the man was hitched until an hour ago. Also we apologize for the fanboying-fangirling, it’s an honor to speak to such a legend. You’re an icon.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” she awes, “thank you so much. I hope you guys can forgive him for not saying anything—he meant well.”

“We understand,” Phoenix says on their behalf. “We’d also like to say sorry for showing up to your house uninvited—your home is beautiful by the way. We-we just wanted to surprise Captain Mitchell since it’s been so long since we were all together and he’s done so much for us.”

“I think that’s so amazing you guys did that! I wish I could’ve been home to greet you guys and see the look on his face. Did he cry by any chance?”

“Honey please…” Mav pleaded, causing everyone to laugh.

“I’m sorry, babe. Anyways, Pete tells me you guys are in town for the weekend and well……tonight the Romantics and I are playing our last show in L.A at seven. Bradley and Pete were set to leave San Diego around four to make it on time and if y’all are up for the short drive…..I have seven passes reserved with your names on them.”

The reaction of the dagger squad could only be described with a singular word: chaos.

First it was more of denial, but then they saw Maverick and Rooster’s face and realized Y/n was in fact serious. She was inviting them to her concert. The final show in her band’s reunion tour. The soon to be Rock n Roll Hall of Famers.

Yeah, they about lost their minds.

“I gotta call my mom—she’s gonna flip!”

“How the hell am I supposed to continue living life after this?”

“This is your birthday Mav!” Phoenix pointed at him while Bob had his hands in his face, expression unreadable. “You’re not supposed to be giving us anything, it's the other way around!”

“Nat, I would love nothing more than to spend my birthday with you guys at the concert tonight.” That just about made her tear up.

“Yo so this is legit?” Coyote held up a hand, trying to calm his excitement. “We’re actually going?”

“Hell yeah!” Jake said, Rooster and Payback agreeing with a high-five. “What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

“Y/n, thank you so much,” Hondo said on their behalf. “I’m sorry if you can’t hear over these clowns in the background, but I’ll speak for everyone when I say that we are so grateful for you to invite us to experience your show together and celebrate Mav’s birthday. I don’t think we’ll stop thanking you so be warned.”

After a few more minutes of mainly the squad bombarding the rockstar with words of gratitude and thanks, Y/n informs Pete of where to go when they get to the venue and she’ll meet them backstage to give them the passes. When they say their goodbyes and hang up, Coyote goes, “Okay so I don’t know about y’all…but I cannot walk into a rock concert dressed like this,” he gestures to his gray Navy t-shirt and torn jeans, “How much time we got, Cap?” The question has Pete check his watch.

“If we wanna get there before the doors open, I’d say we should leave in about two hours. It’s gonna take at least two hours to get to L.A, and we gotta consider traffic.” Mav thinks for a moment before saying, “I may have something that can help. Follow me.”

In one of the many closets used as a storage place, Pete removed a box from the self and opened it to reveal a bunch of vintage t-shirts of Y/n & the Romantics.

“Oh my gosh this is so cool,” Fanboy awed. Some of the shirts were literally from the 80s and 90s but looked to be in new condition, meaning they must have been extras Y/n kept for safekeeping. Nowadays it was hard for someone to get their hands on anything with the classic logo of Y/n & the Romantics unless it was from Etsy or a private seller. Stores like Hot Topic, Spencers, and those dedicated to the 80s or retro-like were the only places to buy the new style of merchandise. But these in the box, they were classic.

“Look through and see if you can find anything. There’s several sizes and styles—most of these were from their ‘Heartbreaker’ era but you may find some from ‘Love is the Eighth Deadly Sin,’ or ‘Rock ‘n’ Rolling to Heaven.’ We have some leather jackets I’d be happy to lend you guys—and Nat, Y/n wanted me to tell you that you’re more than welcome to borrow anything you’d like.” Her eyes go wide.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly—.”

Rooster claps his hands excitedly, cutting Nat off much to her annoyance, “Time to turn you guys into rockstars. Fuck yeah! This is gonna be the best night ever!”

So that’s how the famed naval aviators ended up in their vehicles on a two hour journey to Los Angeles. It was far from what they expected when they set out to surprise Pete Mitchell, but in Maverick fashion things take a different turn when one least expects it. The couple’s dog sitter was called to tend to their animals since it was likely they would not be coming home till the next day. Just after 3:30pm the squad, now dressed like they were straight from the 80s by cutting holes in their jeans and wearing leather jackets and chains Maverick provided, gathered in the cars and hit the road. Maverick and Rooster ended up driving, with Hondo, Coyote, Hangman and Payback in Mav’s SUV and Fanboy, Bob, and Phoenix with Rooster in the Bronco.

Upon instance from Y/n after chatting briefly with her on the phone to make sure it was okay, Nat relented on wearing the red leather Prada two piece set the rockstar wore at the 1994 MTV video awards. It fit like a glove on the pilot, jaw dropping when she looked at herself in the mirror, “Damn.” While in the car she applied some black eye pencil and smudged it out to give her that 80s grunge appearance, to which she made Fanboy and Bob do the same, “Bradshaw, I expect you to rock this too.” At a red light he applied it like a pro, like he’d done it many times before not even needing to fix it.

The entire way both vehicles played Y/n & the Romantics decades worth of music. It surprised a lot of the crew when they recognized some songs from movies and tv shows they had no idea were by them. “This was in Stranger Things!” Coyote shouted over the sound, head banging his head along to the beat. Another song had Bob go, “Wasn’t this in the Guardians of The Galaxy?”

By the time they got to L.A the city life was at its prime. Traffic was insane as usual but thankfully they made it to the Staples Center just before six o’clock. The sign outside the venue glowed bright with ‘Y/n & The Romantics—Rockin’ Down Memory Lane Reunion Tour. TONIGHT ONLY—SOLD OUT.’ Pete pulled in front of Rooster to speak to the guard when they got to the back gate. After speaking through a radio for confirmation they allowed the two cars to enter and directed them on where to go.

When they get in the building it’s buzzing all around them. Crew members of both the band and the venue run past and speak into radios. They could barely make out the words combined with the faint rumble of the crowd inside. Before a security guard could ask why they were there, Y/n’s managers, Hank and Tasha Robinson noticed them and rushed over. “Pete! Great to see ya!” The pilot exchanged hugs with the couple. They then greet Bradley, who they’ve known since he was a child, and the squad, “You guys must be the pilots! It’s nice to meet you all—are you excited for the show?”

“Absolutely.” “Can’t wait!” “We’re so excited.” “Thank you for allowing us to come on such short notice.”

“You all look great!” Tasha grinned, gasping when she saw Nat’s outfit, “Oh my goodness. Hank, look! You recognize this?” Blushing immensely, Nat didn’t know how to react besides laughing nervously as they complimented her. “You look fabulous, darling.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor to wear it—I-I hope I did it justice.”

At that moment Y/n came around the corner, a slight skip in her step until she was lifted into Pete’s arms causing her to break into giggles. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks while she was touring the west coast cities. It filled the squad with warmth seeing their mentor/friend so happy. Nerves filled them, they were about to meet one the greatest voices of rock music.

Mav spun Y/n around before setting her back down, the two sharing a sweet kiss. “Missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too,” he says against her lips, kissing them once more before guiding her to the group. Bradley is the first to hug Y/n, who squeals in delight since it had been months since they last saw each other.

“Hey sugar, look at you! It seems like every time I see you, you got a new look going on,” she fluffs his hair which was now lighter in tone after he got some highlights. “You look good, Roo. Is this a new shirt?” she gestures to the Hawaiian shirt beneath the leather jacket Bradley was wearing.

“Had to pull it out for the special occasion,” he gives her a sweet kiss to the cheek while handing her the bouquet of flowers he and Mav got. Thanking him, Y/n grins at the sight of the group standing behind him.

“And you fellas must be the famous dagger squad I’ve heard all about!” They were literally speechless as they stared back at the singer. She literally was what one would envision when they thought of a rockstar. Smudged eyeliner with sparkly eyeshadow framed her eyes, dark red lipstick and her outfit was black leather that showed a bit of skin due to some cutouts, but was still modest. Where the skin showed they could make out intricate tattoos and both her arms had half sleeves of ink. She had on a harness with silver chains, thigh high boots with studs along the sides.

She was THE rockstar.

Though in her late 50s, Y/n was still breathtakingly beautiful. Yeah there was some grayness to her otherwise shiny, healthy hair, and some age lines around her eyes and mouth that poked through the makeup, but Y/n could literally pass for mid to late 40s. Same with Pete who just turned 60 and looked amazing for his age. Standing next to each other, they were one hot ass couple.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you guys—in person now! Ah I’ve been buzzing with excitement since we got off the phone earlier,” she clapped her hands, moving to Fanboy who was internally losing it like his namesake.

“I-I hi, w-wow. I’m Mickey Garcia—or talk about irony, you may call me Fanboy. It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. L/n—Mitchell uh-I’m sorry. I’m a big fan.”

Y/n giggled, shaking his outstretched hand before bringing him into a friendly hug. “Oh honey, I don’t even know what to call myself sometimes. But, please call me Y/n. You guys are family now.” She goes down the line to meet each pilot, shaking their hand and hugging while saying their name back to instill it in her memory. Of course she knew their names and faces from photos, but meeting them in person was completely different and Y/n wanted to make sure she would remember who was who. When she gets to Natasha’s she can’t help but shriek, “Yay you wore it! You look amazing-oh my gosh!”

“Thank you so much,” Nat blushes again, this time because the owner of said outfit she wore was gushing over her. “Thank you for letting me wear it—I will do my best to not let anything happen to it.” Y/n assures her to not worry about it and the two have the band photographer take a couple photos of them. The guys video the whole thing causing Phoenix to flip them off at times which has the married couple laugh. Soon the band comes out, causing Fanboy, Bob, and Coyote to almost lose it and before they know it everyone is conversing like it was an ordinary Friday night. Hondo, Mav, Y/n, Phoenix and Payback are off to the side with Maya, Evan, and their kids while the others are chatting with other members and their families who came to the show.

“It’s unreal to think this year marks forty-four years,” Evan said, sitting on one of the chairs with his hand on Maya’s lower back who stood beside him.

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “just a group of kids we were then. With a dream only the effects of good ole weed could give us the confidence to have our asses out at that park and hope someone would hear us.”

Y/n drops her head laughing, aware of the somewhat surprised looks of the aviators and Hondo. “Wait-really?” Y/n was known for her exhilarating stage presence. She was like Elvis, Janis Joplin, and Micheal Jackson, always captivating the crowd and keeping them hype. When watching the performances it was like Y/n was in her own little world and thrived on the energy.

“It was the 70s,” she shrugged, still smiling which made her eyes crinkle. “Believe it or not we all used to have stage fright—especially in the beginning when we first started performing. We were….gosh fourteen when we signed, fifteen when we performed on Johnny Carson. Good Lord I was shaking in my boots in the dressing room,” she gave a mock shake of the shoulders, reliving the memory, “The only way I could get up there and sing was if I had smoked. Took the edge off.” Maya and Evan nodded in agreement, Y/n leaning into Maverick’s arms as he stood behind her chair. “I think it was after we toured in ‘85 for ‘Love Is The Eighth Deadly Sin,’ that I could perform without anything. Though I still did it at times,” her smile fell into more of a sad expression, adding, “and unfortunately being in the industry at that time, and being so young, we were exposed to other things.”

She didn't have to explain to the aviators, for it was public knowledge when they read up on the band during their drive that Y/n, Ronnie and Danny had admitted to experimenting in the 80s with cocaine. It was common in that era, with many artists and actors in Hollywood able to get their hands on it easily. For Y/n, it was the frontman of another rock group she’d been romantically linked to who introduced her to the drug. Thankfully nothing ever happened that caused a big scandal or had the members needing professional help. They had their family, the support of their crew and each other so they never let anyone fall too deep to where they couldn’t get back up.

“But we survived,” Maya emphasizes, beaming at her husband, “and it sure has been one hell of a ride since. I can’t wait for November—I think I’m more excited for the induction ceremony than I was for the Super Bowl.” Evan goes on to playfully reject the claim, insisting his wife was way more excited about getting that call over 20 years ago than the news just last month about the Hall of Fame.

Y/n just shakes her head with fondness, leaning more into Maverick, who kisses the top of her head.

“Brings back memories, huh? Here at the Staples Center again after so many years.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, his friends chatting with the guitarist and bassist. “I just wish Ice and Slider were here. Then it would really be a blast from the past.”

“I saw Slider when we played in Florida. He brought the whole family—it was amazing.”

“Yeah he called me afterwards. Said you guys put on the best show of the year,” his lips curled up, leaning more towards her ear, “he also told me you threw in a song in the set I was going to get a kick out of.”

Y/n mirrored his smile, eyes full of mischief, “Oh you will, but I ain’t saying nothing, hot stuff. You’ll have to wait for when it comes up.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles, kissing her cheek lovingly.

Roughly ten minutes later the stage manager was rushing over, “We’re down to t-minus twenty till showtime people—we gotta start clearing!” Immediately the band are hurrying to say their goodbyes. Y/n practically runs to find the person needed to take the group to their seats. When she does, they hand out the passes to each person, “Julius is going to take you all up to the room. It’s gonna be one of the VIP boxes, the closest to the stage I believe, and it should have sodas, water, alcohol, and food. But if you need anything then just run it by him.”

They all spit out words of gratitude, blown away by the special treatment they were receiving. Y/n takes her time to hug each one of the pilots, who wish her good luck and thank her again for everything. Rooster lets his hug linger a bit longer, as does Maverick who brings the woman into a passionate kiss. “Thank you for doing this, baby. I owe you.”

“It’s your birthday, Pete. You know I would do anything to make you happy,” she lowers her voice into his ear, kissing the area just below, “Sorry it couldn’t be like the good ole days when I would sneak you into my dressing for some fun.” His hands squeeze her hips, sighing at the memories as she giggled.

“There’s still the after party,” he warns her, tone thick with something she knew all too well.

“I’m well aware, hot stuff.”

They share another kiss. And another. And another before Y/n pushes him away at the teasing shouts of everyone around them, Pete bidding good luck to her and the band before he sets off with the group. Rooster nudges him, smirking at the retired pilot, “well that kiss sure would motivate anyone about to go on stage.”

“Don’t start, Bradley.”

By the time they reached the room, they could literally feel the rumble of the crowd when the lights in the arena shut off. “Holy shit,” Mickey said, the first to open the balcony door of the room where they would view the show. Inside were couches, chairs, tvs, and refreshments. Coyote had his phone out, videoing the scene for his instagram story as they all grabbed beers and water before taking spots on the balcony.

The sight was surreal. The stage was to their left and extended out, splitting the floor in half. Approximately 20,000 people could fit in the Staples Center, and from the looks of it 20,000 people were in attendance. It was a sold out show after all. People from all age groups were there. Hell Bob swore he saw some young kids on the shoulders of their parents. The most were obviously the older crowd who likely grew up in the 80s, but there were definitely college kids and Millennials.

It got louder and louder when the two minute countdown appeared on the Jumbotron, along with a video montage of the band. Some clips showed them when they were first starting out up to them preparing for the reunion tour. As it drew closer to zero, the video showed a pre-taped montage of each member taking their place on stage. Maya wrapping the strap of her bass around her shoulder, Evan with his guitar. Ronnie taking place in front of the keyboard and Danny sitting at his drums. Lastly Y/n strutted up to the microphone, the clock hitting zero the moment her hand raises in the air and the arena goes black.

Not even a second passes before Evan’s opening guitar riff sends the crowd roaring. It was the opening to, ‘Thunderstruck,’ a song that literally was in almost every modern day action movie known to man. It was hilarious to see the guys and Phoenix lose their shit, recognizing the iconic song. There was a black curtain keeping the actual stage hidden from everyone's view, but chills came onto everyone’s arms when Y/n’s voice filled their ears

“I was caught in the middle of a railroad track.” The crowd echoed the ‘Thunder,’ with the band. “I looked ‘round and I knew there was no turning back.”

“THUNDER!” The squad shouted, fist pumping and beginning to dance. Already they knew it was going to be the best night of their lives.

When the curtain gave way as Y/n hit the chorus of the song, the audience literally exploded, increasing in volume when she shouted into the mic, “Los Angeles let me hear you!!!!” The camera’s were glued to her as she strutted down the middle of the stage where it split the floor. Her voice carried with each lyric, living up to the hype and sounding as though it was still 1985.

Nat—scratch that all of the guys, especially Maverick, were in awe. Jaws dropped, except Rooster who was living his best life having experienced a Y/n & the Romantics show as a teenager. Now as an adult man the aviator was overjoyed seeing his second mom performing on stage again with her best friends.

“Cap, your wife is the coolest person on earth!” Hangman shouted against the loud music. Maverick simply beamed, eyes never leaving his wife, “I know.”

When the song came to an end, Y/n sighed lovingly, “Ahhh it’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all dearly. Did you miss us?” She paused, screams igniting before adding, “That’s what I’m talking about, baby. It’s been twenty years since we last performed here at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, and we’d like to thank you all immensely for welcoming us back. We’ve worked hard the past two years putting this show together for you, the fans. For all of you regardless if you’re just discovering us, or have been rockin since 1979.”

The energy was off the charts the entire concert. Y/n was feeding off of it on stage, and in turn her presence was feeding the crowd. In between sets she interacted with her friends/bandmates, often coming close to those on the floor to ask how they were.

“You having fun tonight?” Everyone nodded frantically, a woman close to the stage shouting, “So much fun! We love you!”

“We love you too, doll. Don’t worry the night is just getting started.” After the first couple songs Y/n informs the crowd, “I hope you all don’t mind, but as you know this is the ‘Rockin’ Down Memory Lane’ tour,” cheers erupted from every angle, “so as a treat for you fine folks this evening, we won’t just be rockin down our own memory lane. We wanna give some shoutouts to some of the greats rock music has ever seen, and some of the friends we made being a part of this world thanks to all of you. And what better way to start than by kicking it off with the song that got us discovered in the first place.”

The audience was going crazy, die hard fans knowing damn well what song the rockstar was referring to. “Whoooo!!!” Coyote felt the chills when Y/n belted out the opening of ‘Cry Baby’ by Janis Joplin. “Damn girl, sing it!” One of the hardest songs to sing, Y/n had so much emotion it nearly brought a tear to some of their eyes. Rooster brought his finger to his mouth to whistle when the song finished.

The band would do three more of their songs or a medley before covering another artist/group. “Y’all may have heard the rumor…..of the special club we’re being invited to join this fall,” Y/n smirked, hand on her hip next to Maya. Cheering indicated the crowd were aware of the news. “We’re not the only ones. Some friends of ours were also invited. You may have heard of them….Duran Duran?” She pauses to let them scream, the woman chuckling before bringing the mic back to her lips. “They just played recently at the Garden and gave a special rendition of our ‘Highway To Hell,’….so we thought to return the favor,” pausing again, Y/n nods to her band where they begin their cover of ‘Hungry Like The Wolf,’ sending the audience into a frenzy.

“I fucking love this song!!” Nat screams excitedly, passing her beer to Rooster so she could freely dance without worrying about spilling it. The outfit she wore likely cost more than her college tuition. She’d be damned if she let anything happen to it.

“Darken the city, night is a wire,” The smile never left Y/n’s face, “Steam in the subway, earth is afire.” Chills happened along her arms when the entire stadium echoed, “do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

She couldn’t wait to see how the guys of Duran Duran, who she and the Romantics were lucky to call friends, react to them singing their song. On Twitter she hinted at wanting to do another collaboration after seeing the video of the band perform their ‘Highway To Hell’. In 1988 the two groups released a single together, topping the Billboard charts for nearly 30 weeks. Plus both were being inducted in November to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. Surely it would the collab of the century if they did.

Halfway through the show they took an intermission. During that time everyone had a bathroom break, ate some of the food provided and grabbed more drinks. Thankfully Mav did inform them Y/n’s managers got them hotel rooms not too far from the venue so they didn’t have to worry about driving back to San Diego late. When the band returned on stage for the second half of the show it appeared they had changed outfits. Y/n now sported black leather shorts that ended midthigh with fishnets tucked into her leather knee-high boots and a cropped Def Leppard shirt. The sides were cut out showing off her lace bodysuit beneath it. They went straight into songs from their ‘Love & Thunder’ era that took place in the early 90s.

Not too long after she was flagged down by the stage manager, Rick, who was in front of the floor barricade. “What do we have here?” She hummed curiously, taking the two evelopes from him. Rick shouted that it was from the couple directly behind him, who were waving frantically at the singer. The envelop on top said ‘read first.’ Confirming she could read it aloud, Y/n brought the audience to a low tone so everyone could hear.

“Dear Y/n, Maya, Evan, Ronnie, and Danny,” she read off into the mic, glancing to her friends who appeared just as curious as her. “Our names are Damien and Alana Michaels, we’re both 31 years old and met six years ago because of our shared love for your music,” Y/n awed, beaming at the couple then laughed when the letter followed, “We met at a record store and practically fought over the last copy of your limited edition vinyl of ‘Rock n Rollin to Heaven’. We were over the moon when you announced the reunion tour and feel we’ve come full circle tonight seeing as that we fell in love because your music has been an influencial part of our lives. Alana is five months pregnant with our first child,” cheering erupted, causing Y/n to speak louder into the microphone with a giant grin, “Would you do us the honor in revealing the gender of our baby?”

Y/n let the crowd scream for a moment before calming them down again, settling her gaze on the couple, “This envelope right here,” she holds up the unopened document, “has the gender of your baby?”

“Yes!” Alana shouts in glee while Damien nods, mirroring his wife’s expression.

“Give me one moment, honey—don’t go anywhere.” The stadium watches the rockstar rush to her friends, calling them over away from the mics to have a quick chat. Opening the envelope, the camera catches their reaction for the screen and they all talk for a moment before taking back their respective places.Y/n runs over to the couple again, a little out of breath, “Alright! Alana, Damien, congratulations are in store. You are bringing a new life into the world, and the Romantics and I think the best way for you to welcome them is by singing this song when they arrive,” she then looks to the crows, “To anyone who knows the words, feel free to sing along. On three guys,” she points to her friends and counts off, “One…two…three!”

“Isn’t she lovely?” Alana visibly broke into tears while Damien jumps up and down in joy. The band where harmonizing with the frontwoman, the stadium so loud it was hard to hear at times, but thankfully the speakers were at full amp to hear them sing. The couple embraced each other, consumed with happiness at the news. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

“Isn’t she precious?” Staples Center practically echoed with 20,000 people singing Stevie Wonder’s song. Y/n grinned, loving ever second of the coordinated tune. “Less than one minute old.”

“I never thought,” Y/n belted out, “through love we’d be.”

“Making one as lovely as she.”

“But isn’t she lovely, made from love,” Drawing out the ‘love’ Y/n finished the verse by shouting against the screams, “IT’S A GIRL!” Handing back the envelope with the gender to Rick, Y/n asked if she could keep the letter to which the couple agreed. Pocketing it in her shorts, Y/n says, “Congratulations Alana and Damien! Thank you for allowing us to be a part of this exiting moment. On behalf of the Romantics and everyone in attendance, we wish you the absolute best on bringing your daughter into the world and may she be blessed with joy all her life….and maybe unleash her inner rockstar from time to time,” laughter erupted, “give it up for Alana, Damien, and Baby girl Michaels!!”

Fifteen more minutes pass of the band performing their songs before taking a five minute break to set up for their next cover.

“Alright,” Y/n takes a breath, walking down the end of the extended stage. “This next trip down memory lane, has me want to ask you all a question. Ready to hear it?” When they respond with an echo, ‘yes!!’ Y/n allows the smirk to appear, “Do you guys have that one song…that you would call, your stripper song?” A laugh escapes her by the increase in volume from the sold out arena. She could just picture what looks her husband received from his former students. “You know that one song that has you thinking, ‘Gosh give me a pole and I will work it better than anyone has before,’ that kind of song?” Y/n stops halfway through the long stretch of platform, glancing around to the various sections of people.

“I would like to sing for you my stripper song—o-oh okaaaay that’s a nice reaction,” she chuckled, winking at a few spectators on the floor who were like, ‘Hell yeah!’ Pointing a finger out to a random direction, she says with a knowing look, “Now if this happens to be your stripper song too, don’t you get naked—this ain’t that kind of show,” laughter fills her ears, “Plus there's children here tonight, so technically this is a family show. So I would like to apologize now to the parents, but then again, this is a fucking rock show,” the cheers escalated, agreeing with the woman on what she was about to say, “So if you didn’t want them to see us in our element, you should’ve left them at home. But please, for the love of God, keep your clothes on if this song happens to get you in the same mood it gets me. Ready guys!”

“We're ready, babe!” Maya shouts with Evan, Danny and Ronnie giving a thumbs up.

“Step inside!” Y/n yells into the mic.

“Walk this way!” They shout into their own.

“You and me babe!”

“Hey! Hey!”

unworldly, was the way best to describe the Staples Center when the opening chords of Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ sounded through the speakers. No wonder she wore the band’s shirt, hinting they were going to cover one of their songs at some point. Fans went crazy when Y/n did some of her iconic moves like crawling on the floor, flipping her hair back and forth and even usuing the mic stand as though it was a pole. She was in her element, the stage was truly where she shined.

Some of the guys were hollaring, patting Maverick on the back with knowing looks. The older man was blushing mad when they realized something was on his mind with the way he was staring at his wife. It didn’t help Y/n was biting her lip, running her hands along her body during the ‘Sugar me sweet,’ line. The camera was glued to her the entire performance.

“I know that look!” Hangman pointed out the Captain’s expression.

“Yeah, Mav, if you plan to sneak off to the dressing room after the show, don’t worry we won’t say anything.”

The band went straight into ‘Hollywood Nights,’ by Bob Seger as way to pay homage to the fact they were performing in Los Angeles, Hollywood not too far away. Jake was a big fan of the song and Rooster videoed the pilot dancing his heart out, spinning Nat around at times as they belted the lyrics.

Coming down to the final 30 minutes of the show, Y/n called the crowds attention, “This next song….is dedicated to someone very special in the audience. He’s turning 60 tomorrow and I’m celebrating twenty years of marriage with him in October.” Her smile became wider at the cheers, walking to the side of the stage closest to where Pete and the gang were.

“That’s you, my man!” Rooster playfully shakes Mav, the squad cheering when the camera pans to him. Giving a little wave, Pete blows a kiss to Y/n, who pretends to catch it.

“Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell everyone,” she pauses lightly, “With him tonight is someone who is practically our son—Lord knows I treat him like one,” Rooster does a little dance, the camera zooming out from Mav to capture the aviator next to him. “And some of his former students, the Navy’s finest fighter pilots, who I like to call his, ‘Dagger ducklings.’” The squad awed at the nickname, Fanboy and Coyote hugging up on the man.

“Does this mean you’re our papa duck, Mav?”

“Imma let y’all in on a little secret,” Y/n leans into the mic with a whisper, “That whole thing about us breaking up in the 90s? Yeah, it didn’t happen.” Laughing, Y/n stands back straight, “Right now I’m feeling a little sentimental. Pete and I actually met at a bar about two blocks away after we played here in 1989. It was there he….to put it lightly, swooned me like nobody had ever done before.” Dropping his head onto the railing, Pete’s shoulders shook as he laughed, the memory of that night replaying in his mind. “Maya knows what I’m talking about.”

“Sure do,” the bassist replied. “I think he put on better show than we did.”

“Oh God,” Maverick put a hand to his mouth to cover his grin. So many emotions were flooding him. Mostly warmth, but a tad of embarrassment.

If only Ice and Goose were here to see this.

“He sure did. And tonight I wanna take him and I down memory lane. So ladies and gentlemen, this is for anyone who’s lost that lovin’ feeling.”

Words couldn’t describe what Pete felt listening to Y/n sing, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling.’ Maya and Ronnie provided the back up vocals, harmonizing with Y/n during the chorus. The entire time she sang Y/n was swaying and keeping her body faced to the section Pete was at. The two connected eyes at times, lost in each other’s gaze causing the two to feel the love radiate one another.

She sounded so beautiful. Of course it was well known Y/n was very versatile with her music and voice. She could take it high and low, mellowing out for a slow tune. There was a lot of soul in her and the band, which is not surprising since they starting in Atlanta. They grew up on blues, jazz, and classic rock. Inspired by the greats like Billie Holiday, B.B King, Janis Joplin, Elvis, Little Richard, and the Mama’s & Papas.

Pete cheered the loudest in their group when the song came to end, whistling along with Rooster. Y/n blew him a kiss, “Never lose that lovin’ feeling with me, honey.”

Not too long after it came time for the final number. “Imma need ‘Dirty Diana’ for this one,” Y/n announced, moving to the middle of the stage where the mic stand was. A crew member appeared from the side, handing over a neon green Fender Stratocaster. She pulled the strap over her shoulder, “Los Angeles, as we come to tonight’s closing I want you to know you all have, without a doubt, been the best crowd ever. L.A, you know how to bring the energy and we can’t thank you enough for what a blast it’s been playing for you all. What a way to end our tour—can’t believe it’s already over, but fear not…we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Evan, Maya, Ronnie, and Danny all say a few words, then they all thank their managers, crew, friends, and family for allowing them to put on a great show. Lastly they thank the fans in an tearfelt speach, finishing it off telling everyone to have a safe journey back home and to keep rockin n rolling. Y/n closes it out with, “Los Angeles sing this last one with us. It’s been a long way to the top,” the screams got louder, “but worth every damn second.”

Staples Center erupted, Y/n letting her hands work magic on the guitar as she played the opening riff of ‘It’s A Long Way To The To (If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll) .’ Then Evan came in his riffs followed by Danny’s drums. Maya and Y/n banged their head together, leaning toward one as they feed off each other’s energy.

“Oh shit!” Payback whistled, shaking his shoulder along to the beat. This was a song he used to dance to in college with his buddies. It brought back memories for the pilot, nostalgia filling him just like it was to many in the crowd.

“Ridin’ down the highway. Goin’ to a show. Stop in all the byways. Playin’ rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Gettin’ robber, gettin’ stoned, gettin’ beat up. Broken-boned. Gettin’ had, gettin’ took. I’ll tell you, folks, it’s harder than it looks.”

Pretty much everyone shouted the lyrics in the chorus, one of the most recognizable ones in music history.

“It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!”

It went crazy during Y/n’s solo that had all the pilot’s, minus Mav & Rooster, jaws drop. The entire show she hadn’t played the guitar much save for maybe two songs, but it was not to the absolute greatness she was displaying now. Evan guitar solos were off the chain, as were Danny’s drums. Then they had Ronnie tearing it up on the keys with Maya crowning herself the queen of the bass. The voice of the band, Y/n showed she was as talented with the instrument as she was putting lyrics to paper and belting them out for her heart’s desire.

They truly were one of the greatest rock bands to exist.

Even after the song ended they were going hard on the instruments, finishing the show with a literally bang. Lights were flashing, every single person on their feet, Danny and Evan hitting one last solo and instilling the moment as one for the history books.

“Thank you, Los Angeles!! We’ll see you next time! Good night and keep on rockin’!!”

11:58 pm, two blocks away at Melvin’s Planet Enterprise Bar

“Feels like deja vu,” Y/n laughed, dancing with Pete to the tune of ‘When Doves Cry’ in the familiar bar. Though it had a new name and owner, it still gave the same effect as it did in 1989. This time, however, there were posters of Y/n & the Romantics, one of which was signed and framed just above the jukebox playing classic hits and even some of theirs.

Y/n had changed out of her clothes again, wearing black jeans and tank top with a blue leather jacket that had studs and chains attached to the sides. Her makeup had been touched up, hair pulled in a ponytail. It was almost comical how the scene was just like that night in ‘89 with blue strobe lights shining down on them, making her look illuminated.

The dagger squad were in their own little world, dancing and drinking with each other and the band’s crew members. Jake was getting along quite well with someone from Y/n’s glam team, Nat chatting with a member of the security. Then there was Coyote dancing with the oldest daughter of Maya and Evan. They had rented out the place after the show, everyone hauling ass to celebrate the end of the tour. All grown up, the children of the Romantics could enjoy the night as well, not having to worry about being underage now that the youngest of the bunch had turned 21 the previous month.

When they arrived the party was in full blast, Rooster pulling Y/n to the dance floor to share a dance. Then they duetted ‘Great Balls of Fire,’ with him on the piano. Everyone sang at the top of their lungs. Pete held Y/n, head banging with her at the ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ bit and sneaking kisses during, ‘kiss me, baby!’

When her feet started to hurt from standing, Y/n sat in Pete’s lap and nursed a cocktail while they chatted with Hondo and Ronnie’s wife. Over in a corner Bob was on the phone with his family after his sister saw Phoenix’s instagram story, “You saw Y/n & the Romantics tonight!?! How the hell did you manage to get tickets—they were sold out!”

“Uhh….you remember my instructor from that mission awhile back? Turns out he’s marrried to Y/n L/n.”

“WHAT!?! Pete Mitchell was your instructor!?” Bob swore his mother about went into cardiac arrest, screaming when Y/n appeared on screeen after he politely asked if she would mind saying hello to his mother. The rockstar of course said yes, she loved interacting and meeting supporters. They were the reason she got to live her dream. Bob nearly cried seeing his mother in tears, overcome with emotion at the fact she was meeting her favorite singer of all time. After the call ended Y/n gave the WSO a tour program she had all the members sign, “give this to your momma for me. Tell her I hope to see her on the next tour.”

The dagger squad were literally becoming Y/n’s adoptive children by the second. Mickey couldn’t believe he got her to do a tiktok with him, then she had a shot of tequila with Reuben. As Nat danced the woman hyped her up with Maya and she had a semi dance off with Javy. Throughout the night stories were told about meeting Princess Diana in 1995, playing in New York on New Year’s Eve of 1999, the Super Bowl, and their iconic performance at the first MTV video music awards in 1984. They were like children gathered by the Christmas tree listening to her read a book. All they could think was how cool she was and the fact the band had truly changed the world of music over their spand of 40 years.

Prince’s iconic ‘When Doves Cry’ started to play just before midnight and it was like slow motion for the rockstar, moving to her husband who was already staring at her with the same expression. Now they really were back in 1989.

“It does,” Mav beamed at his wife, the song hitting it’s second verse. “Only thing missing are the cameras flashing, Ice and Slider sending me a thumbs up, and jealous looks from patrons.” His words make her giggle, throwing her head back slightly.

“Ice is definitely giving you a thumbs up with Goose,” her voice turns soft, stroking the side of his neck, “Bradley’s got his phone out. No doubt videoing us as I speak. He knows how significant this song is.”

“Remind me to have him send me it,” he tells her, dipping her suddenly causing her to squeal. Lips press to her cheek when he pulls her back up.

“Wanna know something though, hot stuff?”

“What?”

The light hitting her eyes shows off the mischief matching her smirk, “This time ‘round, you won’t just be getting a kiss goodnight. You actually get to take me home.” Thank god the lighting hid the color of his face, otherwise she would get a good look at how red it was.

It didn’t stop her from seeing the smile however, Mav shaking his head playfully. He didn’t have to reply for her to know what he was thinking. Just his laugh was enough.

As the clock stuck midnight, Y/n brought him into a sweet kiss, “Happy Birthday, Pete. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Thank you.”

The rest of the night was filled with celebration, not just for the epic end of the tour and impending induction as Rock ‘N’ Roll hall of famers, but also the life of the Navy’s most famous pilot. Until it came time to leave, not a single minute was wasted in having the best night of their lives.

All of which happened because two souls decided to go to the same bar after a concert. One a spectator, the other the performer. Both who made names of themselves in their own right, embedding their legacy forever for generations to come. It took a hell of a time to do it, but as one knows….it’s a long way to the top you wanna rock ‘n’ roll.

……………………

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years ago

Text

forever winter (lt. jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: i feel like we don’t talk about Jake post-suicide mission enough, so i wrote this. honestly this has been the most difficult thing i’ve ever written and i’m so glad to be done with it. i don't know why introspective pieces about Jake give me so much creative trouble but they do

summary: He knows, that on some level at least, he’s not good enough, no matter how much he pretends to be. So he puts on the facade, the “too good to be true” act, and hope no one sees through the cracks. The cracks though, are getting harder and harder to hide. Because he wasn’t good enough, was he? Sure, he saved them, but he still wasn’t enough. And maybe... maybe he’s not good enough to be here. With them. With the Navy. Maybe it’s time he start to figure out life outside the Navy, re-find and meet Jake, a person he hasn’t seen in so long, since the Hangman persona took over.

Because Hangman’s the reason no one likes him, the reason no one wants him around. They say they do now, but all good things must come to an end. It’s only a matter of time.

And then he meets her.

inspired by taylor swift’s “forever winter” and you should definitely listen while you read it.

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: kissing, insecurities, swearing, hurt/comfort, angst with a hopeful ending, panic attacks, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts (if you look very closely), PTSD, child abuse, alcohol, lowkey a character study, as in the relationship is not the main focus, my hometown knowledge pulled through for this one, the author believes men’s mental health needs more attention, gross abuse of italics, i did minimal research about resignation from the Navy

word count: 6,416

The lockers around him open and close as he reviews that day’s training over and over in his head, wondering where he went wrong.

You’re not good enough.

Someone claps him on the shoulder, startling him. He blinks the thoughts away, to see the face of his best friend, looking down at him worriedly. “You coming Hangman?”

He takes a deep breath, running his palms down his flight suit. He still hasn’t changed, the only one.

You’ll never change.

“Nah, nah, I think I’m gonna pass on this one.” Coyote bites his lip, searching for an answer before Rooster’s cutting him off.

“Hangman, you’ve hardly come out with us at all recently. Think you’re avoiding us or something. Decide you’re too good for all us mere mortals?”

Bradshaw’s tone is teasing, meant to be a friendly jab, but Jake’s skin prickles at the teasing regardless. Coyote sighs, grip on his shoulder tightening. His touch burns him.

Coyote deserves better, he knows it. Coyote, who’s been such a good friend, a loyal one. He can already see it, that one day he’ll realize that he’s become so accepted by the rest of the Daggers that- why did he ever really need Jake in the first place?

It’s what Coyote deserves. He wants that for him honestly. To not be dragged down by Hangman anymore, to be confined to the box that puts him in. He hasn’t made it easy for him, he knows.

So better for the break to just be clean, to stop coming around, to stop setting himself up for failure. Sure, they all seem to like him right now, but these things don’t last forever and he knows it’s only a matter of time before they go back to how they were before. He can’t ask Coyote to do that, can’t ask Coyote to go back to living on the island with him, to give up all these great friends he’s made. He doesn’t want to hope that these people might stay his friends, doesn’t know how to.

So he won’t. He won’t let any of that happen. Won’t set himself up for failure once again.

“Hangman?”

It’s Bob’s voice this time.

He swallows, looking up to meet the brown of eyes of the soft-spoken boy of their team. “You good? You zoned out there for a few minutes.”

He stands up, ignoring the looks he’s getting from his team mates, making him want to run and hide. He wants to come up with a witty response, shake the concern, but his mouth feels dry, like it’s full of cotton and he’s blanking on the words that usually come so naturally to him. So instead, he just grabs his shower stuff, shutting the locker behind him, leaving his not-friends-just-coworkers confused and concerned in his wake.

He isn’t sure why he pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley and arcade, a good twenty minute drive from Miramar without traffic. It’s across town, in El Cajon, and honestly, he isn’t sure why this is where he ended up. He just knows that once he pulled out of the parking lot, drove off base, he picked one direction and drove.

He ignores the fact that he waited for everyone to leave the locker room and even longer in the parking lot to make sure everyone else had gone.

His grip tightens around the steering wheel and then untightens as he swallows, working up the nerve to go inside. He had no business being here, no friends to meet up with.

No friends.

He winces at the thought, letting out a sigh as he turns the ignition off, the car falling silent. He weighs his options, to go inside, to people watch, to eat shitty food, or to go back to an empty home where the silence rages louder than any noisy bowling alley.

The decision is made in a split second and he’s pulling his seatbelt off as he gets out of the car, something fueling every step towards the doors. Pulling them open, he’s immediately greeted by the sounds of bowling balls hitting the lane, the machines returning balls, the music from 2012 only overshadowed by the loud cheers of different groups of friends. He lets his eyes map out the room as he walks towards the food area, stomach jumping at the greasy pizza he can see behind the counter. His eyes skim over the menu, unable to stomach the thought of any of this food.

Never mind the fact that he’s struggled to keep down any food since the mission, unable to bring himself to eat in the first place. He turns, unsure of what to do with himself now that he’s in here. He has no business being here and suddenly it feels like it shows. Like everyone can read him, like everyone knows.

His fingers are twitching as he slides down at a table near the back, looking out at all the lanes. It’s a Tuesday night, so the alley is half-full, maybe. The largest group happens to be at the closest to him, their laughter the loudest thing in the room.

It makes some part of him ache, thinking about how badly he wants that. How badly he doesn’t deserve it.

He thinks of his team, at the Hard Deck, probably a mirror image of the sight in front of him.

They don’t need him.

He blinks, realizing someone’s appeared in front of him. She offers him a small smile as he clears his throat. “Hi.” She says, momentarily pulling one the hands that’s holding her bowling ball to wave at him. “Came to return this, can never pick the right size, but you seem... kind of upset.”

She turns as someone from the group calls her name and she looks over. “Stop talking to strangers!” They shout, laughing. She rolls her eyes, ignoring them.

“Sorry if I’m... being weird or like... creepy? You just seemed kind of upset and you’ve been sitting here all alone, for like, fifteen minutes.”

He blinks, wondering if he’s really been lost in his thoughts for that long. He shakes his head, looking back up to the girl. “I’m good.” He says, forcing a smile. It hurts, makes him dizzy with the force he puts into making it believable.

She tilts her head, clearly not quite believing him. “Well, if you, uh, wanted to join my friends and I, we wouldn’t mind. Unless, you’re waiting on someone, which is totally cool, I just- sorry.” She rushes out, cheeks going an unmistakeable red, even in the dark lighting of the bowling alley.

His chest tightens at the thought of joining her group, the group that’s caught his eye since he got here. Something akin to hope flares in his chest as he realizes she doesn’t know him.

They don’t know you. Not like the team does.

This could be a chance to see if there’s still something in him left worth saving and so he finds himself nodding, standing up from the table. Her smile is bright as she turns, walking back to her table, him trailing a few steps behind. You turn to the group, introducing them all to him. One of her friends, Blaise (he’s pretty sure that’s what she introduced him as), smirks.

“And what’s your friend’s name?”

You pause, turning to him. “I guess I didn’t get your name.”

“Jake.” He says, the words sounding strange on his tongue, so used to introducing himself by his callsign.

They don’t need to know Hangman.

You nod, introducing yourself to him. “Nice to meet you Jake.”

One of the girls, Morgan, joins in with Blaise’s teasing. “So distracted by the attractive man you forgot to get a new bowling ball. It’s your turn, by the way.”

You immediately blush, smiling sheepishly at him. Muttering an apology, you turn and jog back to exchange the ball and jog back in order to take your turn. He takes a few steps back from the group, watching you play as he sticks his hand in the pockets.

It’s not good.

The ball barely stays in the lane before slipping into the gutter as your friends boo. You walk back to the group as Blaise gets up to take his own turn.

“You’re not very good at this.” He says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them.

He winces, waiting for you to immediately rescind the nice gesture that had been you inviting him over here. Instead, you just laugh, nodding your head. “Oh extraordinarily. But I got outvoted tonight.”

“Outvoted?”

“Oh, we just sort take a vote to decide where we go on nights out. Or nights in, depending. But the consensus was the bowling alley, and I lost 5-to-1. I’d much rather be next door at the arcade. Consider myself a Skee-ball champ.”

“Oh yeah?” You nod, confirming. “Well, why don’t we go find out?” He says, some of his confidence returning to him. He isn’t sure where it’s coming from, haven’t seen it in weeks. Months, if he’s honest with himself.

Not since Mitchell passed him up.

You smile. “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.” You nudge Morgan, telling her where you’re going, and she nods as the two of you head over to the arcade. The arcade is even quieter than the bowling alley, leaving the three Skee-ball lanes completely open for the two of you. He stares at the machine as you wander off to get tokens, realizing he’s never played Skee-ball in his life.

Not like there was all that much in his hometown, and the best escape from his Dad was drives to the next town over, which was only marginally better in that they had a movie theatre that played four movies instead of three.

You reappear at his shoulder, counting through the tokens in the little cup. You hand them to him, setting the rest of your stuff off to the side. “So, how do you play?” He asks nervously, fighting to keep them hidden from his voice. He pretty sure he fails. “We didn’t have an arcade where I grew up.”

You don’t tease him, just explain the game to him as he feels the tokens grow sweaty in his palm. It’s simple enough, and if they let him fly the multi-million dollar planes for a living, he’s sure he can figure out an arcade game.

May not be flying for much longer.

He squeezes his eyes shut at the thought, willing himself to listen to you instead of his thoughts for once.

“So where are you from Jake?”

“Texas. You?”

“I’m a native San Diegan. ‘Bout as Californian as they get.”

He nods. “You should meet my buddy Rooster. He embraces the fact that he’s also from San Diego. Annoys the shit out of our team.”

“Rooster?” You ask curiously, scoring another set of points. You look up at him, raising an eyebrow as he cringes, realizing he’s let the man’s callsign slip, and then looking down at the ball still in his hand. He hasn’t even started playing.

“Work for the Navy as a pilot. We use callsigns.”

You nod. “Oh, gotcha. One of my family friend’s worked on the Midway before it was decommissioned and turned into a museum.”

In all honesty, he hasn’t been to the Midway, even though he’s been stationed permanently in Miramar for the last six months. No point in driving out there to see the inside of a decommissioned aircraft carrier when he’s seen more of those than his own house in his life.

You don’t say anything more. Usually, when girls learn he works for the Navy, they’re drooling at his feet, wanting him to tell them some epic story, usually trying to slip their way into his bed. Usually, it works.

Jake tosses the ball up, finally deciding to start playing.

He isn’t sure how long the two of you stand there playing, but it’s long enough that his legs begin to ache, even though he’s begging himself to ignore it, wanting to stand here for a few minutes more with you. It was easy. You never pushed, always just listening. Returning his competitive streak, you offered him kind smile and a loud laugh when he beat you.

It was simple, not like the push-and-pull of his team. It was a simplicity he could see himself getting used to.

Blaise appears at your shoulder and you turn to him as you pause your throw. “I know you’re enjoying your time with your new attractive man-friend, but we’re headed out and I am your ride.” Before Jake can open his mouth to say he could drive you, Blaise is giving him a once over and turning back to you. “And I’m not in the business of letting one of my friends wander off into a car to be murdered by a strange man she met in the bowling alley, so we’re going.”

Jake turns, trying to remind himself that it’s not personal. Entirely reasonable. He wouldn’t let Phoenix or Halo wander off alone and get into a car with a random man they met in a bowling alley either.

You sigh, tossing the last ball into the machine, the score flashing across the top. He isn’t sure if it’s his ears that are ringing or the machine as you take your purse from Blaise. “Give me a second. I’ll meet you at the car.”

Blaise eyes you and then Jake. “Five minutes and then I’m coming back inside and you’re not getting a choice. I’m setting a timer as we speak.” You concede, waving him off. You sigh, turning back to him.

“Sorry, you date one shitty man and it’s game over.” You shake your head. “Anyways, it was really nice to meet you Jake.” He can’t bring himself to say anything, a lump forming his throat. Can hardly bring himself to breathe. “Um, if you wanted- I could give you my number? I’d love to see you again. Unless this is weird and you think I’m weird and you never want to see me again-”

“I’d love your number.”

You smile through a deep breath, sliding your phone out of your back pocket to let him enter his number. He does, noting the time and swallowing as he saves the contact. “Well, it was nice to meet you Jake.”

He nods, realizing he hasn’t thought about his shitty day since you walked over to his table two hours ago. “You as well.”

He really doesn’t believe you’ll text him. It was just a passing thing, nothing more than a moment. Yet there your text is the very next morning, asking if he wants to join you for the farmers market in La Mesa on Saturday. His fingers fly over the keyboard, confirming he’ll meet you there, bright and early.

It gives him something to look forward to, something outside the team he doesn’t really feel a part of. Maybe this is his chance to cut the cord, to walk away, before someone gets hurt.

He feels himself being pulled back down to Earth by the thought of seeing you, of your texts, sending him pictures of your family dog and the sunset from your backyard. He reciprocates, sending back pictures of the dinner he cooked (because that’s the new thing he’s trying, cooking, as he tries to sort out his life) and the book he picked up after work that day, because that’s the other new thing he’s trying too. Anything to keep the thoughts at bay, from making a decision he can’t unmake. From doing something he’ll regret, even though right now it’s looking like the best thing.

If the team notices a change in his behavior, they don’t say anything, though Rooster is always at his wing when they fly, Javy hovering. Jake hasn’t been to the Hard Deck in days and ignores the Dagger group chat as Saturday morning rolls around.

The farmers market is the perfect balance of quiet and busy, bringing him a moment of calm in a stormy week. Stormy couple of months. The conversation is easy, you telling him about all the years you (and your siblings) went to preschool in the neighborhood as the two of you pick through old records and fresh fruit. He observes the obvious fact that the Saturday farmers market is part of your routine as you chat with the family that sells locally-grown honey. His heart clenches at the thought you letting him slip into your life and routine so easily.

It’s as you’re picking through flowers for your house, asking for his opinion that he realizes this is too delicate, too fragile, to push the boundaries.

When asked if you should get the sunflowers or wildflowers, he blurts out that he can’t date you. He isn’t sure why he says it aloud, although he knows that the words are too true. He’d break you and he’s done ruining things. Ruining people.

You just nod and assure him that it’s okay, that you’re not looking to date either. That you’re always open to a new friend. He swallows and nods, telling you to get the wildflowers. That they suit you.

Wild with a quiet beauty.

The friendship grows from there, a lunch out at the Mexican restaurant just across the street from the market to a Sunday brunch turning into Taco Tuesday to drinks on Friday to another Saturday farmer’s market with lunch afterwards. He finds himself leaning more and more into your friendship, pulling farther and farther from his team mates.

They don’t need him anyways.

Nights away from the Hard Deck turn into weeks as he spends the time with you instead. Sometimes your friends join, sometimes it’s just the two of you. Your friends have warmed up to him, welcoming him into the group naturally. Even Blaise has settled in, joking with him, letting him into what has been a years-long friendship.

He’s sure the Daggers don’t miss him around. Don’t miss his competitive streak, his arrogance, his jabbing and prodding and poking.

They were better off without him.

Maybe Javy does, always feels the man hovering, waiting for Jake to talk about where he’s been disappearing off to when his feet hit the ground. But it’s been a while of this and even if Javy missed him at the beginning, he probably doesn’t miss him now. Too happy with his finally solid friendships to miss the one that had kept him out of the group in the first place.

He’s better off without him.

He knows what he has right now is fragile, delicate. One wrong move could send you spiraling out of his life with the door slamming shut behind you. He tries his best to let you go before he could hurt you, because that’s what he does. You don’t let him though, always encouraging him to stay, to talk about what’s bothering him.

He hadn’t even mentioned that anything was wrong.

He doesn’t mention that it’s been getting harder these days. That everyday he gets closer to walking away from the team, before someone can get hurt, before he can get someone killed.

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

He knows what he has right now is fragile, delicate. He can’t act on the feelings simmering just below the surface, can’t act on his desires. You’re too good. He’ll ruin you. It’s only a matter of time before you see what everyone else does, before you leave. No one stays.

It’s quiet the night he finally caves, fingers sliding over the call button before he can lose his nerve.

He needs you.

The phone rings once, and then twice, and- shit is it really three am?

He goes to click the red button, to end the call, say it was an accident and sorry for bothering you when it clicks, signaling that you’ve answered.

“Hello?”

He doesn’t answer, suddenly forgetting how to breathe.

“Jake? You okay?”

He wants to answer, but he can’t remember how.

Why had he called you again?

“Jake? You’re worrying me. Is everything okay?”

He begins to pace again, crossing the shitty hardwood of his shitty rental, as he runs a hand up to pull through his blonde hair. Tugs at the roots, as he tries to remember what he wanted to say. “I can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself saying, because it’s true.

He can’t lead this team, can’t be here, shouldn’t be in the Navy. He’s not good enough, never enough.

If was enough, Mitchell would’ve chosen him as wingman. Mitchell would’ve trusted him.

He hadn’t. Had trusted Rooster instead.

If he’d been enough, he would’ve been faster. Wouldn’t have had so close of a shot, would’ve been there with plenty of time.

“Okay... Is it work stuff? You wanna talk about it?” Your voice is soft, kind, and he tugs at his hair harder.

He’s going to ruin you. He’s sure of it.

Only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

“I’m sorry.” He says flatly instead. “I shouldn’t have- it’s late.”

“It’s fine.” You say automatically. “I was up anyways. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Jake-”

“Goodnight.”

He ends the call before you can protest, struggling to breathe as he lets the phone fall from his grip as he tugs at his hair again. He barely hears the phone clatter to the floor over the ringing in his ears, his chest tightening.

Panic attacks aren’t new to him lately, but this one brings him his knees as he realizes how badly he needs you. How much he doesn't want to let you go. How much he knows he has to.

It isn’t fair to you, to ruin you. To hurt you. He needs to get out, before he can hurt anyone else.

Only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

He sits there, back pressed up against the foot of his bed as his ears never stop ringing. The night passes him by, dawn rolling in, bringing pink splashes through the cracks in his blinds.

He should be getting ready for work when the phone rings again. He watches numbly as your name crosses his phone. He lets it ring once, and then twice. It rings a third time and then the screen flashes bright with a text.

I’m worried.

What’s going on?

Jake, are you okay?

Jake, answer me.

His chest aches at the hurt and worry he’s causing you. What he swore not to do.

Fine. Just stressed about work.

Never mind, didn’t mean to worry you.

Sorry.

He clicks the phone on do not disturb, pulling himself up from the ground. His limbs protest, his chest still feeling tight. He shouldn’t fly today, shouldn’t go into work.

Shouldn’t go into work ever again.

He swallows as he changes.

It’s only a matter of time before the Navy agrees.

His skin feels taut as he goes through the motions of the day, running on no sleep and pure nerves.

He started off his day right, slipping the paperwork into Admiral Simpson’s office and ending his pre-flight checks in Mitchell’s office, being asked what the hell is this?

I think you know exactly what that is sir.

He’d fumbled the trainings for the day, leading to Phoenix yelling at him over the comms. All he could hear in his head, over and over again, was Javy’s disappointed sigh over the comms as he left another person behind.

The water of the shower is scorching his skin as it falls over him, his head resting against the tile. Distantly, he can hear his teammates, chatting amongst themselves. His fingers twitch as he thinks about calling you, asking you to come over. He stretches them out as he thinks about what it would like to come home to you, pull you close to him, and just rest.

His chest aches at the thought of all that he can’t have.

He turns the shower off, pulling himself out of his daze as he walks to his locker. He hears the door to the locker room slam open as he pulls his pants on but he doesn’t turn. It catches his attention when his body is being shoved against the locker, causing their team mates to protest and stand up, moving to stand between the two of them.

It’s Bradshaw.

“What the hell man? I thought we were a team.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, ignoring the way his shoulder is protesting at the sudden collision against the metal lockers. “What are you on about?”

Bradshaw, Rooster, is seething. “You know exactly what I’m on about.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the locker and swatting Payback’s hand away. “If you’re really that mad about training today, get over it.”

Rooster turns to Coyote, who’s watching the two of them warily. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Hangman almost grimaces as he turns back around, opening the locker up to pull his shirt over his head.

Time’s up. Secret’s out.

“Seresin’s leaving us.”

He forces himself to chance a glance at Coyote, who looks nothing short of betrayed.

“What, decide you’re too good for our team?” Fanboy teases, but he can hear the hurt underneath the joke all the same.

“This why you haven’t been hanging out with us?” Omaha asks, settling on the bench.

“You know, my world does not revolve around me going to the bar with you people and listening to Bradshaw play the same shitty song from the ‘80s and playing the same game of pool over and over again. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

He’s being cruel now, he knows it. Pulling at any frayed thread, to make the whole thing come unraveling. To say, look it was never meant to work in the first place.

Rooster takes a step back from him. “C’mon man, I thought we were friends.”

“Don’t kid yourself Bradshaw. How do you even know anyways?”

“Mav told me.”

He almost scoffs. “Of course he did.”

“He wants you to stay.”

He wants to roll his eyes and turn away. “That’s not his decision. Nor is it yours.”

“Hangman-”

“You know, it’s really none of your business whether or not I want to stay in the Navy. Nobody’s business where I go after I leave here. We’re not friends.” He snaps, not missing the way Coyote’s body language changes from defeated to guarded.

“So much for all those years we haven’t been friends Seresin.” Coyote mutters, turning away from him.

His heart cracks at that, soul stinging in the way he’d let Hangman take over, to push these people away. “Coyote-”

“Just forget it Bagman.” Bob says, his own hurt coloring the words as his arm slings over Coyote’s shoulder as the two of them turns towards the door. Rooster shoots him one last look before he’s grabbing his bag, following them out the door.

He can do little but watch the way the team filters out of the locker room, all tossing him looks of hurt and anger as they leave for the day. Finally, he sinks down, head in his hands as he thinks about what he’s done.

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

You’re waiting for him as he pulls into his driveway, sitting on his front porch. He sighs as he slips out of his truck, shutting the door behind him.

He doesn’t want to do this with you now. Not today. Not after he sat in Mitchell’s office, being told he couldn’t resign without a valid reason. Couldn’t look the man in the eye all day after the conversation that morning. He still wasn’t sure how the paperwork had ended up on his desk so quickly, in matter of thirty minutes or less, but the day had made him feel hopeless.

There was no out. Nothing left for him.

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

He wordlessly unlocks the front door, leaving it open behind him for you as he walks towards the kitchen, pulling the whiskey out of the cabinet. He hears the front door shut as he knocks the liquid back, gritting his teeth at the burn. He hasn’t medicated the pain away with alcohol since you came into his life but he’s feeling his control slip after the day he’s had.

“Jake.” You say, appearing next to him. He pours himself another shot, but you pry his fingers off the glass before he can down it. He lets you, reveling in your soft touch.

Won’t get that for much longer.

“Jake, you scared me last night.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” His words are cold, detached, as he wills himself to do this one last thing.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re friends. We-”

“You should leave.”

You jerk back, fingers leaving his own as if they had burned you. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice doesn’t feel like it’s his own, floating somewhere above him as some part of desperately begs him to stop.

“Jake, something’s clearly wrong. I’m not leaving you.”

“Well, I don’t want you here.”

“Well, too fucking bad because you’re my friend and I want to be here for you.”

He cautiously raises his eyes to meet your own.

You want to stay? For him?

Where would he even start though?

I tried to resign from the Navy today?

My Dad used to hit me?

One of my not friends, co-worker at best, almost died because I wasn’t fast enough?

If I stay, someone’s gonna get killed because of me?

“I don’t know what to say.” He whispers and you nod.

“That’s okay.” You say softly, hand returning to his. “Why don’t we go sit down? You don’t have to talk, but let’s just sit.” He nods, letting you guide him to the couch. He thinks he can count on one hand all the times he’s sat on the piece of furniture. You don’t let go of him as you both sit.

He can’t meet your eye, can’t begin to tell you the truth. If you knew, you’d run.

Maybe that’d be best.

“You should go. I’ll only hurt you.” He says quietly, turning away from you.

“Jake.”

“’M not good. I- I hurt people. I ruin them. I- You need to leave.” His voice is begging now, pleading with you to see reason.

“Jake, look at me.” You say softly. “You don’t ruin people. You’re so good, so so good. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

“I tried to- I need to-”

The words are trapped in his chest and it feels like he’s choking. Like if he speaks the words, he’ll be giving him the rope to hang himself with.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk. It’s alright.”

So he swallows, nods, and sits there. Allows himself to let you touch him. To rub your thumb over his shoulder blade as his head falls back against the couch.

It’s some time again before you speak.

“One of my friends in college was in the Marines.” You say quietly. “Not the same thing as the Navy, I know, but still. He wouldn’t talk about it, even if he was asked. I don’t know if he ever learned to talk about it.” He turns to look at you, even as your movements don’t cease. “We had lost touch after we graduated but-” You shift, shaking your head. “Something I’ve been thinking about lately. You don’t talk to me much about your work. ”

He swallows, watching you as you watch him. You don’t say anything more and he realizes you’re opening the door for him to talk about it. About all of it.

“There was this mission.” He feels himself begin to say, voice almost detached from him. He can’t bring himself to look away from you. “Almost a year ago now. Reason I got stationed out here. We- we weren’t meant to come home. One of my fr- coworkers almost died.” You just wait, listening, and he takes that as encouragement to continue. You haven’t run away yet. “He said something, about how the only place I’ll lead anyone is an early grave. Can’t help but feel like he’s right.”

Your touch burns him, eyes staring into his soul as he wrestles with himself to lay it all bare in front of you. He pulls away, standing up to pace the small living room. You let him, simply just watching him.

“I’m going to get them killed. There’s a reason I wasn’t selected to fly the mission. I’m- I’m gonna hurt them, gonna get someone killed. I shouldn’t be there. I’m not good enough and it’s going to cost someone their life.”

His hands reach up to his hair, going to tug at it again, the familiar feeling of trying to ground himself as everything spins out of his control.

“I- I feel out of control all the time. I can’t look them in the eye. I feel like I can’t breathe up there, that the only time I’m safe is on the ground. They don’t need me anyways.”

He chances a glance back to you and every part of your face is screaming pitypitypity

He doesn’t need your pity.

“I wanted to resign from the Navy. My CO told me no.”

You finally break your silence, shifting up. “I’m sorry, he told you no?”

He waves you off, starting a new round of pacing. “He needs a valid reason.”

“A valid reason? What’s more valid than I want to-?”

“Leaving is complicated and there’s a lot of paperwork, you have to have all these forms and a letter-”

“That a big decision, Jake.” You breath out, interrupting his explanation, moving to the end of the couch, looking like you might walk over to him. He hopes you don’t, despite how badly he wants to be next to you. “Are you sure of this?”

He pauses, feeling the tears sting his eyes.

He will do anything to not break right now. Not in front of you.

Bitterly, he can hear his Dad in the back of his head, reminding him how weak he is.

Real men don’t cry.

“I just don’t know what else to do.” He whispers, afraid of the words he’s speaking into the night. “I just need it all to stop.”

That’s what propels you off the couch as you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him. The feeling of you holding him close makes him buckle as his resolve cracks and crumbles, the tears taking over as his knees sink to the floor. His sobs rack his body as he reaches up to clutch tightly at your shirt. You run your fingers through his hair as you try to soothe him.

“Jake, I-” You swallow, your hand stilling in his hair.

Here it comes. When you tell him this is too much, that you didn't sign up for this, that he should never contact you again-

You kneel to be eye-level with him, pulling his face into your hands. “Jake, I am so sorry. You deserve so much better than that. And I wish there was something more I could do for you, more for me to say. All I can say is that it’s going to get better. Things will always get better and I will be here to help you. I’ll always be here.”

He swallows, wanting so badly to believe your words. He almost does, if he squeezes his eyes shut and forces his Dad’s words out of his brain. “I want to believe you. I don’t know how.”

“That’s okay. I’m here, Jake. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t fix me. You can’t make me better.”

The words are blunt, cruel. You don’t flinch away or move back.

“I don’t want to.” You move closer to him. “I just want to help you. Let me help you.”

Without thinking, he surges forward, kissing you before he can think about the consequences of his actions. He knows in the half-second before you freeze that he’s fucked up.

You pull away, ducking your head as your bottom lip catches between your teeth. Neither of you say anything as your chests heave with what just happened, unable to meet the other’s eyes. Your hands haven’t left his face as you swallow, finally pulling up to look at him.

“Jake-”

He shakes his head, pulling out of your grasp to stand again. “Don’t. Don’t. Please don’t. I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.”

You stand too, sighing. “Jake, please-”

“Just go.” His voice wavers, cracking, a reflection of how he feels on the inside.

“Jake, this isn’t- Now’s not a good time-”

“Don’t make excuses. You don’t return my feelings and that fine. Just- get out, please.” His back is still turned from you as he waits for your footsteps to signal that you’re going to leave, just like everyone else. He succeeded in driving you away.

He does hear your footsteps but they don’t leave through his front door. No, there you are, figure blurry in front of him through the tears he’s been trying to suppress.

“Jake.” You softly, and he feels his lip tremble as he wraps his arms around himself, wanting to make himself small. “It’s not that I don’t return your feelings and I’m not saying never, but- you’re going through a lot right now. You need a friend, not a new relationship, and I’m happy to be here in whatever capacity I can be for you. You deserve the world Jake Seresin and I’ll be here no matter what.”

Your hands reach to his face and he allows his hands to unwrap from around his body, pulling you close to him. His head falls into the crook of your neck as he takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave.” The words are muffled against your skin. “Please.” The words are like a prayer as he grips you ever so tighter.

“Never. Believe me Jake, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

For the first time in months, he takes what feels like his real breath, feeling like he isn’t drowning under the waves of his own mind.

For the first time in months, he allows himself to consider that things might actually turn out okay.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fics #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fics #jake seresin fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fics #jake seresin x female!reader

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phantomtgm · 2 years ago

Text

Phantom - Chapter One

Phantom’s P.O.V

It was day one of being called back to TOPGUN and so far it was proving to be an interesting experience. We were all sitting in our seats as we waited for Rear Admiral Bates and Vice Admiral Simpson to step forward and introduce us to our instructor.

Everyone sitting in this room were the best pilots out there after having graduated TOPGUN. I had no clue why we were called back. It had to be some kind of mission. Hangman and Phoenix were sitting in the front. Rooster was in the middle of with Coyote meanwhile I was in the back, desperate to not have any of the attention on me.

I may have graduated TOPGUN top of my class but I did not want any spotlight on me, especially considering who my father was. Once people found out, I’m sure I would be hounded for it.

I just sat back and watched as finally Admiral Bates stepped forward and a lower ranking officer yelled “Attention on deck!” With that we all stood up and saluted the Admiral. The Admiral stood behind the podium and gave us all a lookover. He looked annoyed and it was honestly funny seeing that look on his face. Whatever he was about to tell us, he clearly didn’t like having to.

“Be seated.” He spoke and we all sat in unison.

“I’m Admiral Bates. Your commander.You’re all TOPGUN graduates. The elite. Success now more than ever comes down to the man or the woman in the box. His exploits are legendary. He is considered one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced.” I watched as Phoenix and Hangman turned their heads to see whose footsteps were being made. I, however, chose not to look. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing that.

Once Hangman saw who it was, he turned around like he wasn’t expecting this person and wanted to crawl into a hole. I only snickered. I wondered what that was all about.

“I give you captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign….Maverick.”

Footsteps echoed past me and as he walked by, I got a trace of the man's cologne and it smelled wonderful. I couldn’t help myself, a man wearing cologne just got to me.

I didn’t look at the man until he spoke. “The F-18 NATOPS.” I didn’t recognize the man's voice until I looked at him.

Maverick. I cringed on the inside because I knew why he was here. I knew who he was only because of my father. I just prayed he didn’t recognize me.

Smacking the manual, he went on and said “Contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft.” Pointing to Rear Admiral Bates and Vice Admiral Simpson who looked a bit peeved at Maverick’s wording which made me smirk.

Without missing a blink, Maverick looked around and said “but what the enemy doesn’t know..is your limits. And I intend to find them.”

Looking around, I attempted to make myself smaller so he wouldn’t point me out as he spoke. “To test them.”

His eyes went to each and every pilot and I had to struggle to not cover my face. That wouldn’t be very….brave of me. His eyes brushed over Rooster then finally came to rest upon me and I could immediately see the shift in his eyes.

Recognition.

“Show me what you’re made of.” A pause then “Put your flight gear on and meet me on the tarmac.”

Maverick had this odd look on his face when glanced at me so as he dismissed us I got up in a hurry but before I could make it to the locker room, my name was called and my heart began beating wildly.

“Phantom.” HIs voice belted out. I had hoped no one had noticed that he called me out but I don’t think I was that lucky as I heard Hangman and the others snicker. Whatever. I’ll deal with them later.

Turning around reluctantly, I could feel my face heat up as I faced my instructor. I watched him as he did his attempt at a smile and said “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. How’s your father doing?”

Not expecting that from him, I immediately got defensive. “You would know if you stopped by sometime.”

Maverick’s eyebrows shot up and I could tell he was fighting a smirk which only served to make my knees weak.

Damn it!

For whatever reason, Maverick stirred feelings in me. He has for a long time and I honestly wish he didn’t. He was my father’s friend which should honestly gross me out but it…..didn’t.

Harboring feelings for the wild card of the Navy was not good, especially now that he is my instructor but did that stop my brain from thinking otherwise?

Hell no.

And that freaked me the fuck out.

How was I supposed to hide that now that I have to see him everyday? He would surely notice considering he and my father were close and he has known me since I was a child.

“Ava?” A hand waved in my face. “Ava? You okay?” There was that voice again that made me weak. I jolted out of my trance and saw a very worried look on Maverick’s face.

“What did you say?” I said breathlessly. I watched his face and it seemed he wanted to say something but was deciding against it so I just gave him a polite smile. “I have to go put my flight gear on. I’ll see you out there.”

With that, I turned around and headed to the locker room with my legs shaking.

Ugh. I hated that he made me feel this way.

“Good morning aviators. This is your captain speaking.” Maverick’s voice came over the comms system. We were in our jets now flying over the canyon.

“Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers.” Great, we were being taught like we were rookies. I rolled my eyes as Payback and Fanboy flew in formation beside me.

“As briefed, today’s exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down or else.”

Looking to my left I could see Payback laughing. “Or else what sir?” I had no idea where Maverick was, which was very typical of him.

“Or else I shoot back.” Maverick’s voice came through once more. “If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose.”

“You sound mighty confident.” I spoke, his cockiness was not going to get the better of me.

“Oh I am.” Maverick replied. I could hear the smirk in his voice which almost made my skin crawl but…I will not allow him to get under my skin like that. After all this was the first day of training.

Abruptly Payback came through the speaker. “Sir what do you say we put some skin in the game?”

“What do you have in mind?” Our instructor spoke. There was a pause then “Whoever gets shot down first has to do 200 push ups.” My eyes almost popped out of my head. That was a lot of pushups….however I wasn’t a bitch and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first person to be shot down.

“Guys that’s a lot of pushups.” Payback started laughing and I smirked. “What? Can you not handle push-up’s old man?” I countered, not being able to help myself by messing with him.

“Oh I can handle a lot more than push-up’s Phantom. I”m sure you would like to find out.”

Before I could even respond to that remark, a loud “OOOOO!” followed by laughter erupted in my ear.

“Yeah I bet you are just having a hayday with that one aren’t you guys?” I said as Payback and Fanboy kept laughing.

Maverick’s laughter followed as he said “Fight’s on. Let’s turn and burn.” Flying straight, I said “Do you guys see him?” I couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Nothing on the radar ahead. He must be somewhere behind us.” Fanboy said. I looked to my left, saw nothing but felt a whoosh of air as something came between my jet and Payback’s.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as Maverick came out of nowhere. “What the hell was that ?” Payback yelled.

Pulling straight up, I then banked to the right. Hoping Maverick would get the others before me. The G’s hit me hard as I flew hard around the canyon. I looked to my left then to my right, nothing. I was lucky so far.

A scream erupted in my ear as I heard Fanboy say “Tally, tally, tally! Maverick’s coming in! Bank left!” I looked to my right, a few feet below me and there was Payback break to the left and another jet zooming to catch up to Payback.

Damn he was good.

“Breaking left!” Payback exclaimed. “Payback, where’s your wingman?” I heard Maverick ask.

“Yeah Phantom, where are you?” Without saying anything, I pulled the stick hard to the left, turning to move in between Maverick and Payback.

I rushed in between them both and said “Right here boys.” “Hell yeah!” Fanboy spoke but it was spoken too soon.

“Phantom just saved your life fellas, but it’s going to cost her.” I looked up and saw Maverick directly on my ass.

“Oh no you don’t old man.” I breathlessly said as I pulled a half twist to the right.

“Come get me.” I said I pulled more power straight up towards the sun.

I smiled as I heard Maverick talk to himself, “Don’t let her get to you Maverick.”

The G’s were compressing my lungs as I inched forward. I wanted him to get so close to me before I turned away because he wouldn’t expect it so suddenly, I broke left and maneuvered my aircraft back towards the ground.

“Alright you’re good. I’ll give you that.” He spoke into my ear which only made me laugh. I flew left to right, dodging him. He wasn’t going to get me.

I flew past Payback and they both exclaimed in their seats.

“Do you see him Payback?” I asked, hoping to have escaped him. “Uhhh…” Payback sounded really unsure of himself so I spoke up “Payback you don’t sound very confi-” A high pitched tone sounded in my cockpit when Maverick’s voice came over comms. “That’s a kill.”

“Dammit!” I yelled. I slammed my fist at the side wall and looked to see where Maverick was,

He so confidently pulled up next to me and smiled that oh so gorgeous but aggravating smile. I just sighed. “Go see Hondo about your pushups.”

“Yeah whatever.” I said under my breath as I broke right.

I could see this was going to be a long, hard competition with him.

Just great.

#top gun #top gun maverick #pete #pete mitchell #maverick #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #imagine #topgunmaverickxreader #top gun fic #top gun x reader

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multishippingtrashfire · 3 years ago

Note

Anything a/b/o for hangster please

Preferably with lots of back of the neck grabs for reassurance

Hey Nonny! This is going to be multiple chapters, but here's Chapter 1.

I posted it on ao3 too. Let me know what you think thus far.

In the Navy, it was a mandatory requirement that all unmated personnel wears scent blockers, to limit the amount of distraction when deployed on missions for the United States Navy. Additionally, Alpha’s and Omega’s had to use suppressants to prevent the onset of heat or rut while away. And because the Navy didn’t really care who you were as a person, and only whether you could fight for your country, a person’s secondary gender was not public information. Without a scent, the only way to identify a person’s gender is hindered on a mating bite. Omega’s mating bites were at the base of their neck, while Beta’s were at their wrists; Alpha’s had no mating bites. The placement of the bites hinged on where scent production was the heaviest, hence all the terrible ‘bare your neck’ jokes from Alphas and Betas. Most people could go an entire career without revealing whether they were an Alpha, Beta, or Omega if they were unmated.

And that had been Rooster’s plan. He made it a point to never, ever discuss his secondary gender with his fellow aviators. And had been successful in dodging any of their prying eyes or questions.

Until Maverick decided to play football on the beach.

At the arrival of the group, many of the group began stripping out of their shirts, including Maverick, and underneath Mav’s shirt revealed a mating bite at the base of his neck.

“Holy shit!” Coyote choked out, openly starring. “Mav’s an O?”

While the Navy made it known, thanks to previous discrimination legislation, that they ‘officially’ didn’t value one gender over another, the preconceived notions of society were always still present. Omega’s, especially males, were seen as weak; not suitable for intense combat. It was rumored that when secondary genders were openly reported, male omegas only got assignments in administration, cooking, and nursing. Combat positions were out of the question.

The group's eyes locked in on Mav’s bite and were met with a challenging stare back. Hondo also had a disapproving look, as they oogled.

“Yeah, I’m on O. Surprised?” Mav asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Immediately eyes dropped, and faces began to flush, realizing how inappropriate it was to be discussing their instructor and superior officers' secondary gender.

“Uh..” Coyote forced out a dry cough, covering his mouth with his fist. “Nope.”

“Mhmm.” Mav continued to pin Coyote under his stare and the rest of the group stood behind him, shuffling lightly. They made it a point to look everywhere but Maverick. But then Mav broke the tension with a snort and a short laugh. “Nice save. Let’s play some ball.”

The game carried on as usual, but Rooster couldn’t help but shake his nerves. It unsettled him the way his friends seemed so startled at Mav’s designation. Did they think a male omega wasn’t strong or good enough to fly?

Rooster remembered when he presented, his heat sneaking up on him during the summer before his 16th birthday. He had been so warm and overwhelmed. He realized he was in heat pretty quickly and it felt like his life was over. Of course, while all laws and public messaging said male omegas were equal, reality was different. He knew that alphas and betas alike would be trying to sleep with him, that he’d be viewed as weak, and that he was considered fragile and emotional. He felt like even his pilot dreams were dashed.

He laid in his bed and sobbed, both in pain and sadness. That was how his mom had found him. And before he knew it, she was calling someone, while she continued to stroke his hair. She promised him everything would be okay and told him to breathe. The phone call was short and once it was done, she got him some water and food from the kitchen.

The next morning, Rooster woke up feeling like shit, but there was distinctly a man’s voice in the living room. He sat up feeling confused, wondering if heat also caused delirium, but nope that was definitely a man’s voice. And those were definitely heavier-than-mom footsteps coming up the stairs.

A knock on the door and a distinct “Bradley, can I come in?”.

It was Maverick.

Peeking inside, Mav sends Rooster a pitying smile.

“Hey, bud. How are you feeling?” Stepping fully inside, for the first time, Rooster realizes he can smell Maverick. And he doesn’t smell like an alpha or a beta.

“You’re an omega?” Rooster blurts out, cheeks colorings at the realization of how rude that was.

“Yeah, I am…I’m mated though.” Mav holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers, showing off the gold band on his hand, before pulling the collar of his shirt down to show his mating bite. “I’m on leave right now, so I skipped the scent blockers.”

Mav settles on Rooster’s bed, still smiling reassuringly.

“Your mom said you may have questions about your new– your presentation I mean. And she figured it’d be best if I answer them.”

Rooster shook his head, his health class had covered all the biological stuff with a clinical-level overview. This happens here, this gets put there, those come out of there.

But Rooster did have one question.

“Was it hard to become a pilot being that you’re an omega?” He looked away as he asked the question and missed the way Maverick’s had softened.

“In my time, yeah it was…but your dad made it so much easier on me.” Rooster looked up to see Mav had a nostalgic smile. “He knew, even when I was still hiding and he never let that change how he viewed me as a pilot, and more importantly as a friend. I won’t lie and say it will be easy, but things have gotten better. And honestly, I’d like to think that’s partially because of me.” Mav ended with a chuckle.

“But on the front of who you are as a person, being an Omega doesn’t change who you are. You’re still Bradley Bradshaw, a damn smart kid. And honestly, high school alphas suck, but they don’t always stay that way. Sometimes they grow up and you happen to like their stupid faces, but none of that has anything to do with who you are.” Mav squeezed Rooster’s shoulder

Maverick’s speech had always stuck with Rooster, and it played in his head when he was rejected from the Naval Academy. It played in his head when he decided to keep going, and went to college to study aviation engineering, where he was the only O, and he was top of the class. It played the first time he slept with an alpha.

And now, as Rooster questioned whether being on O hindered his ability as a pilot, Maverick’s speech played.

Rooster and Mav came back from the mission and for the first time in a long time, Rooster hugged his godfather. He hadn’t even realized how much he had missed him. The celebration around them continued, and Rooster even shook hands with Hangman, realizing that maybe the guy wasn’t just a jackass with a pretty face.

Celebrations moved to the mess hall, while the team pulled off their flight suits. For reasons Rooster couldn’t explain, he felt slower moving than he had before he left. The adrenaline from surviving was still pumping but he felt ill. He felt his breathing pick up, even as the rest of the team patted him on the back on their way out to the mess hall.

“Rooster?” Maverick was shaking him. “You okay? You look a lit-” Maverick cut himself, jerking backward. His eyes scanned over Rooster’s body, looking as if he was scanning for injury. Eventually, he jerked his hand out, grabbing Rooster by the elbow and hurrying into the hall.

“Mav?” Rooster’s speech sounded slurred. “Where are we going?”

Maverick didn’t slow his pace and kept marching forward. “We have to get you to my room. And then I’m calling Ice.”

“What? Why?” Rooster was confused and felt himself stumbling, struggling to keep up with Mav’s hurried pace.

“I’ll tell you when we get there.” Maverick promised, turning and giving Rooster a reassuring smile. Rooster recognized that smile, that was the same smile Maverick gave him when he was fifteen and in heat for the first tim-

And Rooster realized what was wrong. His suppressants were failing. He was going into heat.

“Mav-

“I know. It’ll be okay.” Maverick assured him.

Finally, they reached Maverick’s room. He brought them inside, settling Rooster on the bed, before locking the door.

“I’m going into heat.” Rooster panted out, unable to believe the situation as it unfolded. “My suppressants failed. How the hell did they fail?” Rooster squeezed his eyes shut before putting his head in his hands.

“The adrenaline, kid.” He felt Mav pat his back and he looked up at his godfather.

“What do you mean?”

“Going on a mission that suicidal and surviving, your adrenaline kicks up and metabolizes everything ten times faster than normal. And let me guess, it’s been a while since you’ve let yourself have a heat?”

Rooster nodded.

“Your body is taking back the reigns, kiddo.” Maverick smiled sympathetically, letting Rooster take all the information in.

“But why aren’t you in heat?”

“I’m mated and way older than you. I have like two-three heats are year tops. And I let myself cycle pretty regularly. If Ice was on board, I might’ve been triggered. But without him? I’ll be okay.” Maverick shrugged, he knew the explanation wasn’t fair, but it seemed nothing about biology was in this moment. “Speaking of Ice, let me call him.” Maverick patted his knee, before standing and reaching for the satellite phone on the nightstand.

“Ice? Hey, baby.” Maverick had a dopey, love smile and even in heat, Rooster curled his lip in disgust; it was like watching your parents' PDA. “I need you to do me a favor. I need you to order this boat back to dock ASAP.” Rooster can hear Ice’s murmurs on the other end but can’t make out much of what he’s saying. “I know that’s a big order, but it’s important.” More murmurs.

Maverick’s eyes cut to Rooster, and Rooster knew that meant Ice had asked why. Breathing out his nose, Rooster nodded his permission.

Maverick gave a quick nod before saying into the phone “Rooster’s gone into heat.”

More murmurs.

“Thank you, Ice” Mav blew out a sigh of relief.

He turned back to Rooster, nodding a short affirmative before he started moving around the room. He was gathering water bottles, extra blankets and pillows from a closet, granola bars from a box under the bed, and more. He placed the supplies on the bed, clapping his hands in completion.

“Alright, Ice is going to handle getting back to dock. This is all the stuff I have for you to keep holed up in here for now. Luckily, the seal on these rooms makes it so no one else will really hear you being in heat.” Mav outlined, with as much sympathy as possible present. He looked down before he delivered the bad news. “I can’t promise the same about the smell…the crew…they’re going to know.” Maverick added quietly.

And just like when he was fifteen, Rooster felt like his life was over. No one would give him a hard time really, but he did everything in his power to keep his designation from all his fellow soldiers. And it was dashed away in a moment.

He felt himself become irritated, glowering at Maverick. Rooster puffed out a “whatever”, before turning and laying on his side. He knew his attitude at Maverick was unjustified, but it didn’t make him less irritable. He closed his eyes and that’s where most of his memory leaves off.

Because his heat was intense, having been the first in years, Rooster couldn’t remember all that much in his delirium. He remembered Maverick patting his head with a cool cloth and being made to drink water. Everything else felt spotty, with banging noises, his own whimpering, and overhead announcements appearing briefly in his memory but not enough to place the moment.

The next time Rooster is fully coherent, he realizes Maverick and another omega are trying to help him off the ship. The halls are deserted, which is unusual and gives the walk an eerie silence.

“Wha-What happened? Where is everyone?” Rooster questions, voice hoarse.

“The crew has been temporarily disembarked. Per Commander Kazansky’s orders.” Rooster forces his eyes to focus on the omega next to him and realizes it’s Fanboy.

“Fanboy?” Rooster breathes out in disbelief. “But you smell like a -“

“Yeah, man. I am one.” Fanboy smiles, continuing to help Rooster from the ship. Outside, Ice is waiting with a car. Upon seeing the three Omegas, he opens the door to the backseat and the trunk. Fanboy helped situate Rooster in the back while Maverick and Ice deposited his belongings in the trunk.

Fanboy pats Rooster on the shoulder and turns to head off to who knows where, but Rooster catches his arm first.

“Fanboy…thank you for your help.” And Rooster means it with the utmost sincerity. At least part of his team was there for him.

“It’s no problem, man. But…you might want to thank Hangman too. See ya’ later, I hope you get some rest.” Fanboy adds before nodding again and heading off.

Thank Hangman? Why?

The ride back to his house is quiet, Mav having told Ice that Rooster wasn’t the chatty type. He gets back to his house relatively quickly, and Maverick helps bring his bags inside. As he walks up the steps, he opens his mouth to question why Ice was being so distant, when Maverick answers his thoughts.

“Even a mated Alpha shouldn’t enter an unmated O’s private nest unless invited. And even then, a lot of them just feel uncomfortable. Add on top that you’re on the tail end of a heat and they basically turn to stone.” Mav shrugs. And Rooster feels like he’s in high school again, learning about his own biology.

Inside, they deposit his bags, and Rooster goes to grab a drink from the fridge, realizing it was already stocked.

“Uhh, Mav? Did you fill up my fridge?” Rooster questioned over his shoulder.

“Nope, wasn’t me.” Mav looks equally as confused and this doesn’t have the makings of a fun prank, so Rooster believes him.

The two continue to wander around the house in an awkward silence before Rooster finally asks.

“What happened while I was down?” Rooster looks away because he’s not sure he wants to know this, especially given Maverick’s wince.

“Well, typical heat things…ya know? You whined, moaned, slept, and more.” Mav trailed off, clearly leaving out pertinent information.

“Mav, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Well, once the smell of your heat started getting around the ship…a lot of unmated Alphas showed up at the door.” Maverick’s entire demeanor showed his irritation at this. “And a lot of them, even in the 21st fucking century, don’t know how to take no for an answer. If I had the power, I would have them discharged for even trying to come through that door.” He growled, stalking around like a caged animal.

“But I don’t have that power and the Navy doesn’t respect O’s. So, nothing can be done.” Maverick stopped, looking outside.

“That’s what I missed? A bunch of idiots who wanted to fuck me banging on the door?” Rooster felt embarrassed, a hot shame, heavy in his stomach. The unfairness of life, of the Navy, of everything, was a given but it still felt like his fellow soldiers didn’t respect him. He was just another O, who they wanted wet and whining on their knots.

“Well, that was it…until Hangman.”

“Hangman? Hangman?! You let me sleep with Hangman?” Rooster hadn’t even realized he was moving until he was right in Maverick’s face. He couldn’t believe him.

Maverick shoved Rooster back, snarling.

“No! I can’t even believe you think I’d let anyone-, while you were-, you really think I’d-” Maverick grunted in anger, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned to face Rooster and told him what really happened. “Hangman didn’t sleep with you. Hangman beat the shit out of every Alpha who approached your door like a goddamn doberman. And slept in the hallway like a guard dog too! Cyclone and Warlock ordered his removal, and then Phoenix, Payback, and Coyote camped in his place. They worked in shifts . And Hangman always either left food or had Bob or Fanboy being a tray from the mess.”

Rooster couldn’t believe his ears. Hangman? Of all people, Hangman? He protected him?

“Truthfully, the Navy is concerned we’ve formed a pack bond and want the team completely separated because of it…I told them we just need some rest.”

Rooster’s own mind filled in we are a pack when Maverick’s voice didn’t.

Maverick walked closer to Rooster, clasping his shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck in the other. “Rooster, you really do need to rest. And after you do, I think you should talk to your friends; I think you should talk to Hangman.” Mav leaned from, pressing his forehead to Rooster’s before giving him one final squeeze and heading out.

For a minute, Rooster could only sit. His own mind was playing white noise as he took in his surroundings. When he started generating thoughts again, he tried to remember as much as he could about the heat, what he had felt like, heard, or seen.

Though it had been many years since his last heat, Rooster remembered the buzz his skin felt. He remembered the restlessness in his bones. He thought back to his favorite parts of sharing a heat with an Alpha, a luxury he rarely indulged himself with. He remembered rough hands, bruising on his hips, bite marks on his shoulders and thighs, the pressure of fingers grabbing his hair, and a pleasant ache that was the perfect amount of soreness that stuck with you for the days afterward.

Being so close to the peak of his heat, he felt himself get aroused. Moving to continue his thoughts, he went and laid on his bed.

He ran his fingers down his stomach, before trailing further. He gathered his own dick in his hand, fondling it gently, just like how alphas he had previously been with tended to. While O’s still felt pleasure from handjobs, it wasn’t their main source of pleasure. He dipped his fingers further, brushing against his balls, before dipping deeper. At his hole, he was wet and getting wetter. He felt the heat in his stomach increase, thinking back to the way alphas would gently toy at his hole, waiting for him to be sopping and needy before even putting the first finger inside him. He imagined the roughness of an alphas voice, and the demanding way they coaxed him to orgasm, curling their fingers just so. Any good alpha wanted at least one orgasm from an O before they tried to fuck them.

Rooster felt himself getting progressively more aroused in his fantasy, mainly imagining a general idea of an alpha - tall enough, muscled, a pungent dominating smell, and a delectable strength. But then his fantasy alpha started forming a face. His rough voice demanding Rooster to cum, started to sound like a voice Rooster knew; a voice that was irritatingly sure of itself. His hair and body were familiar to him. As Rooster continued to approach his orgasm, he realized who he was really fantasizing about.

Rooster was fantasizing about Hangman.

But he couldn’t stop going, he kept working his hands - one on his dick and the other with two fingers in his hole at just the right angle. He heard Hangman’s cocky insistence that Rooster was going to cum on his fingers; that he bested every alpha on the damn boat because Rooster was his since day one; that he couldn’t wait to put Rooster on his hands and knees and mount him properly; use his hand on the back of his neck to keep perfectly presented. Maybe bite his neck too.

Rooster spilled into his hands, his orgasm shaking his entire body. His hole spasmed, and clenched around his fingers, with a gush of slick. His vision whited out. It was obscene, but it was the best orgasm Rooster had had in years.

And it was from a fantasy Hangman.

#my writing #hangster #rooster x hangman #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #prompt fill #bradley bradshaw x jake seresin #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw #alpha/beta/omega au #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ice x mav #icemav

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nightingaelic · 3 years ago

Note

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

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