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communicationthroughlyrics · 1 year ago

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So Fucked Up, From the Way That You Touch - Part 1

A party at the beach with your friends, to blow off some steam after a rough break up. Well, that turned into something else.

This will be a little two parter- I am working through some writer block on my chaptered pic, and was dabbling with this. It got a little long, so I am breaking it into two parts. Let me know whatcha think- the second part of this is the smutty part ;] I hope y'all enjoy!

No warnings yet ;]

The sun was beating in through the windshield of your blacked-out truck, proving that it was no match for the tint you had on all the windows to keep prying eyes out of the happenings of your vehicle. You weren’t someone who participated in nefarious or delinquent activities you were the opposite- you liked your privacy. You had always been regarded as the quiet, observant, and reserved one of your friends. You coincidentally made friends with plenty of people who were the exact opposite of you- boisterous, life-of-the-party types. Often, you were the “ol’ reliable” of the group, always there for anyone who needed the ride home after a long night of drinking, or when someone was being cross in their direction.

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts, before grabbing the backpack in the passenger seat that contained your beach towel, sunscreen, and other necessities for an evening at the beach. You had been dreading today, trying to think of an excuse or a convenient white lie to allow you an escape, particularly with the nasty breakup you had just gone through. But your friends, they wouldn’t have it. The sun was on its last few hours before it descended below the horizon, and then there would be a huge bonfire, and the party would continue well into the night. You had been to enough of these parties to know they went until the wee hours of the morning. As you gathered the necessary items that you had been obliged to bring, the cooler with your spirit of choice, and some snacks for sharing, your best friend came running up to you, wrapping you into a tight hug from behind.

“Y/N/N! You didn’t flake on us!” She laughed, pulling away and punching you in the arm. You turned in her direction with your eyebrow raised, your pointed brow just making an appearance over your dark sunglasses. She looked you over, shaking her head at your choice of attire. “Y/N, what in God’s green earth are you wearing? Are you going to a funeral or something after this? It’s a beach party. Not work. Relax. ” You looked down at the dark blue jeans, black vans, and black hoodie that adorned your body. Frankly, you were so used to hiding your tattoos for work- being an officer didn’t allow for the expression of body art- so you weren’t fazed by your choices. It was just second nature. The only tattoos that were currently exposed were the ones along your slender fingers and on the backs of your hands, and the ones that you allowed to sneak up the side of your neck. Typically, you wore a turtle neck for work, along with gloves. You lifted the black baseball hat off your head, running your hands through your undercut black hair, before replacing it on your head.

“Sorry, I was under the impression I couldn’t wear white after Labor Day,” you smirk, and turn back to grab the remainder of your belongings. “I do wear things underneath, Mar. It’s the middle of October, beaches get cold at night.”

“Duh! That’s what the fire is for!” The shorter blonde rolled her eyes and was already slightly tipsy, your 15-year friendship allowing you to know the woman inside and out. Marliana had known you since transferring to your San Diego middle school for the tail end of 8th grade, and then you both ended up going to the same high school and college, just for different majors. You had instantly taken a liking to her, with an affliction for blondes with accents and blue or green eyes, but became best friends, as she didn’t play for your team. You grabbed the heavy bags as she grabbed the light bag, and walked around the house, down the boardwalk to the beach below. As you descended from the street to the shore, your eyes began to scan the group of people for familiar faces. There were plenty of people here you had met before, and some new people as well.

You approached a group of people already huddled around a smaller fire, knowing one of them would be your popsicle of a best friend Kennedy, who could literally live in Death Valley and still find a way to be freezing. You approached her, and as predicted, she was bundled in a few layers, her brown hair curled, and a hoodie and two jackets cloaking her rather small frame. You threw your cooler in between yours and her chair, plopping yourself down next to her.

“Hey, Kenz.” You smile in her direction, and she turns to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders in a brief hug. “How are you, my little Eskimo?” You laugh as she pulls away, bopping her nose with your finger before reaching between the chairs to grab a drink out of the cooler. She groaned at the nickname, before turning her gaze fully to yours.

“Don’t make fun of me! You know I hate that nickname,” she pouts, and you cackle. You both had been friends since kindergarten, going through every single grade together. Your paths separated in college, but after that was over, your search for a barber who could keep up with your ever-changing styles was found- in your best childhood friend. Mar and Kenz didn’t necessarily get along at first, but now you think they may be closer than you. “I should be asking you how you’re doing. I'm glad you left the bitch, let’s be honest- but I know it’s been rough for you.” She asked, already knowing part of the answer to her question.

She made no effort to hide her strong dislike of your most recent ex. Your ex didn’t like how close you were to some of your friends, particularly Kennedy, since you had known her for so long, your relationship was blunt, to say the least, and very hands-on. Many nights out you would act as a couple to stave off an awkward conversation with a stranger, with her rubbing your chest, or making suggestive comments in your ear, even having kissed her on multiple occasions. But you never saw her as a partner, just a very strong platonic relationship. She was also a very expressive person and preferred touch to communicate. You took it as part of the territory, but your ex-girlfriend did not like it, and no matter how much you tried to cut back from Kennedy, it was never enough.

“It’s been ok, honestly. Just some rediscovery and I feel like a 140-pound weight has been cut off my ankle.” You shrug and laugh, you had known the relationship was going nowhere, but the last few months had been hell. You finally ended it, which caused the woman to lose her absolute mind. But after two years of her nitpicking and pulling apart every relationship you had, it was time for it to end. Kennedy smiled, knowing that you were putting up a wall regarding your last relationship.

“I’m just glad it’s over, Y/N/N. I need my cuddle buddy for movie night back!” You rolled your eyes at her response, and she slapped your shoulder. “Jerk.” She muttered, making you laugh into your drink.

“I love you too, Kenz.” You give her a slight hug and then stand up to go mull around in the groups and catch up with some of your other friends.

After you had made your way through three or four groups, and then got roped into a volleyball game, it had finally got warm enough that you came back to your chair, ready to strip off your hoodie. Instead, you found an unfamiliar person in it talking to Kennedy with a rapt interest. It didn’t strike you as super odd, Kenz was the more sociable of the two of you, but she was talking to this woman like she knew her. But, after all, this was a huge beach party, so not out of the ordinary.

“Y/N!” Kennedy called out as you approached. “I wanted to introduce you to someone, this is another client of mine, I’ve been cutting her hair for… how long now?” She looked back to the blonde, trying to think of a timeline. A noticeably raspy voice answered, coming from the woman in your chair, almost sending you to your knees alone from how it affected you.

“7 years, I think.” Was the response.

“Fuck, has it been that long?” Kennedy stared in disbelief.

“Yeah, I think so. It was right out of school for you, you got a job at my old stylist’s salon. He was sick for some time, and had you cut my hair instead.”

“Well, there you go, Y/N. I’ve known Scar here for 7 years. Y/N, this is Scarlett, Scarlett, this is my better half bestie, Y/N.” She gestured in between you both, Scarlett turned in the chair, removing her sunglasses to reveal the green irises beneath, surrounded in a smoky grey eyeshadow. Her smile was stunning, and you almost needed to slap yourself to keep from staring. You gave her a quick once over, taking in her tanned figure, ripped denim shorts, and a baggy hoodie. Her hand reached out to you, and you smoothly grasped it, shaking it gently. She turned your hand over, gazing at the tattoos on your hand, eyebrow-raising above her glasses.

“Y/N, I have heard a ton about you. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.” She smiled, and it took a second for your brain to quit short-circuiting at the confidence and beauty this woman was exuding.

“Scarlett, nice to meet you. All good things, I’m hoping. This one tends to over exaggerate.” You motion to Kennedy, who promptly made a face at your remark. “I was just going to leave my hoodie here, I was getting a little bit toasty over there.” You motioned back to the volleyball game.

“Oh! My apologies, was this your seat?” Scarlett was quick to rise, but you placed your hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the electricity you felt when you touched the older woman.

“It’s okay, I was going to go back over and play some more. I didn’t hit the gym today, so I need my workout.” You laugh, and the blonde sits back down. “Besides, someone needs to keep this one from stealing my stuff.” You send a pointed gaze to your best friend, who sticks her tongue out at you. Scarlett laughed at the exchange before her gaze shifted back to you.

“I’ll keep an eye on your stuff for you, Y/N.” She motioned for you to take off your hoodie. You quickly pulled it over your head, and it pulled your tee shirt up with it, briefly displaying a very tattooed frame. You quickly pulled the tee shirt back down, pretending not to notice the blonde now returning the once over, and a slight lip bite when your abdomen was exposed. Kennedy noticed the exchange and smirked. She planned to get you hooked up with someone, but she didn’t intend for it to be this someone. You folded the hoodie, putting it on top of the cooler between the chairs, and briefly hugging Kennedy from behind.

“Thanks for watching out, Scarlett. Be careful though, this one is tricky.” You smile, pulling down your glasses slightly, allowing for eye contact to be made, and then turning and running away, effortlessly interjecting yourself back into the game. However, there was a pair of viridescent eyes that were keeping an eye on you at every opportunity they could.

After a few more rounds of volleyball, the majority of players had grown tired and opted to separate and find other forms of entertainment. You were milling around, talking to a few more friends before the chill of the slaty air started to get to you. You stalked back to your spot, noticing Scarlett and Kennedy were both gone. You grabbed your hoodie, sliding it back over your frame, as well as a drink from the cooler. You chose to walk away from the party for a little bit, as the sun was beginning to set. You weren’t necessarily an introvert, but large outings like this were hard on you, and you often needed to take a break or two to maintain your sanity. You knew of a cliff you could relax by, as Marliana often took you there when you both were walking her dog on a movie night. It wasn’t too terribly far from the party, but the sounds of music and conversation had died a few hundred feet back. You made yourself comfortable on a flat rocky outcrop, hanging your feet off the small drop to the foamy water below. Watching the sun dip below the water on the horizon, you lift your glasses and rest them on top of your head, taking a swig of your drink.

You weren’t sure how long you were away from the party at this point, but a voice from behind you almost caused you to throw your now empty can into the air.

“Pretty long way from the party, Y/N.” You turned to see the blonde smiling from the sand. “What brings you over here?”

You motioned for her to come join you, scooting over on the rock enough for there to be room for her to sit.

“Just needed to clear my head. Parties like that tend to be a lot for me. Kenz is usually the more sociable one of the group.” You look down at your hands, folding and unfolding them in your lap.

“Ah. Social battery maintenance.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You lean back, placing your hands behind you and looking up at the woman, who is staring straight out at the horizon. Her strong jawline was shadowed by the remnants of what sunlight there was. You could honestly stare for days at the way the lighting affected this woman’s appearance.

“I can feel you staring, Y/N.” She smirked, giving you a side-eye.

“Oh…uhh…sorry,” you respond, becoming flustered at being caught. “I would imagine people probably do that a lot to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. But yes, they do.” She smiled, turning her focus fully to you. You both continued to talk until a chill began to take over the air. You noticed that she was beginning to shiver, so you quickly removed your hoodie and handed it over to her, a slight smile on your lips. “Oh, Y/N, it’s okay, really. I'm fine.”

“Scarlett, you're shivering. I’m more like a space heater. Really, just put it on.” She grabbed the sweater, pulling it over her smaller frame. She looked over at you, taking in the multitudes of ink adorning your muscular arms. “Now you’re the one staring.” You stood across from her, a smirk adorning your features.

“Sorry,” she looked down, before reaching out to grab your hand. ”I’m still cold, Y/N.”

“Oh? Well, I don’t really have any more layers to share, Scarlett.”

“Well, if you’re so much like a space heater, maybe you should warm me up?” You laughed at her response. Dropping her hand, you close the gap between the both of you, enveloping her frame with your larger one. She snuggled into your chest curling her arms in between your chest and hers.

“Better?” You chuckle, leaning back to look at her.

“Mmhmm. You are like a space heater.” You feel her relax further into you, and you wrap tighter around her. You feel her shifting in your hold, and you shift your gaze down to her. “You’re a very attractive space heater.”

“Oh, am I now?” Chuckling at her response, and resting your chin on top of her head. The scent of her perfume and shampoo wafted through your senses.

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping my eye on you all night. Kennedy was right about you.”

(PT 2)

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #lesbian nsft #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natalia romanova #scarlett johansson

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vivalas-vega · 2 years ago

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real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

hehe two parts in one day. it’s my weekend and I was on a roll. here’s a long fluffy, kinda sad but mostly silly chapter!!! turns out cobra is a bigger softy than she lets on ;)

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part three

add yourself to my taglist

one / two

word count: 4k

warnings: language, hangman is whipped

tag list: @potato-girl99981 @olliepig @roosters-girl @angelbabyange @loveforaugust

The air was growing suffocating in your car as you pondered your options… sat along the side of a deserted road just outside of the city you cursed yourself for not springing for a new car when you had the chance. Something about saving the money for something else because your old girl had never failed you. You opened your phone as you manually rolled the window down and clicked Rooster’s contact.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered, sounding out of breath.

“Hey Roo, I need- are you okay? You sound like you’re being chased.”

“Well… that’s because I am.”

“Uh… okay? Why?” you asked, laughing a little.

“I’m actually- uh, oh fuck.” You frowned a little as you heard grunting on the other end, “I’m on a date. Had the idea of taking her to laser tag but I’m getting my ass beat. Did you need something?”

“No, nevermind, enjoy your date. Use protection.” you said, sighing as you hung up. You mentally ran through your list of options… Phoenix was spending time with her girlfriend, Coyote and Fanboy were seeing a movie they’ve been talking about for weeks on end, Bob had taken a quick trip to see his family, Payback had said something along the lines of ‘if any of you call me over this break I will personally see to it you’re shot out of the sky’, which only left you with one option. You could call a tow, but it really only seemed as if you needed a jumpstart, calling would be a slightly over dramatic and costly reaction to your current predicament. With a groan you clicked Hangman’s contact, bringing it to your ear as it rang.

“Well I’ll be, a phone call? In the middle of the day? Knew you’d realize I was irresistible sooner or later.” You could practically hear the smirk.

“Can it. I need your help.” Your nerves were fried as you opened your car door, stepping out into the San Diego heat which was only a few degrees cooler than the inside of your car, not giving you the respite you were hoping for.

“What’s going on, are you okay?” Any sense of teasing was gone and was instead replaced with urgent concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine but uh… well my car is not. I drove out to La Jolla and took a wrong turn somewhere and old Betsy thought this was the best possible place to give out on me. I think I just need a jump,” you sighed, walking around to the front of your car and leaning on the hood.

“Betsy?” he questioned, and you could already hear the sound of his keys and his car door closing in the background.

“Betsy is my car, I’m taking no further questions on the matter.”

“Alright, drop a pin I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You hung up and did what he asked, looking around you and trying to figure out what to do to pass the time while you waited. You walked around to the back of your car, propping the windshield up, dropping the tailgate and hopping on. You rooted around in the back, grabbing your emergency kit and pulling out some long expired granola bars, a change of clothes and a few bottles of water. You quickly chugged an entire bottle before grabbing the pair of gym shorts and walking around the side of your car, quickly removing your yoga pants and slipping them on after taking a few glances in either direction. You returned to your previous perch, opening Instagram and mindlessly scrolling, leaving a rather lewd albeit supportive comment on Phoenix’s most recent selfie, and a thumbs down emoji on Rooster’s gym pictures.

Checking the time you’d realized it’d been about fifteen minutes since texting Hangman and hoped he’d be here soon. The heat was really starting to get to you and you pulled your oversized tee off and threw it somewhere in your car, desperate to feel even a little bit of a breeze as you sat now just in your sports bra and shorts. Sure enough as you were struggling to turn an abandoned book into a makeshift fan you heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled up, and you walked around your car to see Hangman with what looked like an ice cold bottle of water.

“Sorry it took a while, made a pit stop because I thought you’d want this,” he said, tossing it to you and you caught it with ease, immediately pressing it to your neck.

“You thought right, thank you,” you said, watching as he popped the hood of your car.

“Alright, let’s see if we can get this old bat running.” You watched as he connected both of your cars, scowling when he swatted your hand away as you tried to help. “What were you up to today?”

“Hike, there’s a really beautiful spot in Torrey Pines. I’d heard about a good brunch spot away from the beach but apparently my navigational skills are shit when I’m not in the air.”

“Should be good, go give her a whirl,” he said as he got into his truck and started the engine. You let out a groan as your engine made a valiant effort to come back to life, but ultimately decided against giving you a win today. You shook your head at him as he watched you through his windshield and he turned it off and hopped out, disconnecting the cables and taking a look around. He pulled out your dipstick, absolutely barren, spare the last half inch that had a glob of dark brown sludge hanging onto the end and he just looked at you in horror. “Sweetheart, when was the last time you got an oil change?”

“Uh, well…” you took a moment to peer inside your car, looking at the sticker and reading when you were supposed to get your last change, “says here I was supposed to get it at 183,457 miles.”

“And how many miles are you currently at?” You checked the odometer.

“189,433.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, replacing the stick and putting his hands on his hips as he looked at you with what you assumed was his best ‘disapproving dad’ look. “It’s honestly a miracle it just died on you and you didn’t blow a gasket or worse.”

“I forgot,” you shrugged.

“The sticker is right there! Like, literally, right in front of you every time you’re driving.”

“I’m a responsible driver, I don’t look anywhere but the road.”

“Responsible driver,” he mumbled, shaking his head and pulling out his phone, “so responsible you go almost six thousand miles past your oil change requirements,” he continued mumbling as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” He looked at you like you had two heads.

“Who am I- a fucking tow truck.” he said exasperated and you raised your hands in surrender. You listened as he gave directions to the tow company and sighed as you looked at your car, knowing the last time you took her in for work the mechanic strongly recommended you let him keep it for scrap. “Come on, they’ll be here soon,” he opened the passenger side and you climbed in, grateful when he turned the AC on.

“Thank you for coming to witness the death of my car,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Can I ask why you’re still driving that junker around?”

“Watch your mouth, Betsy is an old bird but she still has a heart… feelings,” you said, pointing a finger at him and he chuckled at your angry expression, “I’m serious!” You leaned across the console to hit his chest. “I’ve had her since high school, she was my mom’s car before she got passed along to me. I have a lot of memories in there, her driving me to and from practices, school dances… I had a lot of my firsts in there once I got her.” You looked ahead at Betsy, in all her glory, with her hood propped open and covered in dust from the unpaved road.

“Okay, so take a photo and keep it in a scrapbook.”

You sighed, “you don’t get it… I’ve shipped her everywhere I’ve been stationed, she literally saw me through diapers to where I am now. Every version of myself has been in that car,” you said sadly.

“Honey, she’s unsafe at this point.”

“I know, I just… I didn’t want to let her go.” Just as you said this the tow truck pulled up and you rushed out to meet him, the two of you standing off to the side while he examined the engine.

“Sorry kid, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do.” You nodded, looking at Hangman before turning back to the mechanic.

“Can you uh, I just need a minute.” you said, getting into the car and closing the door. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you took a deep breath, “well, old girl, looks like the time has finally come.” You looked into the backseat, feeling emotion bubble up as you saw where your car seat had once rested, where you sang along to Britney Spears with your childhood friends, where Luke Something had deflowered you on your prom night, where you crammed a few boxes and a suitcase before departing for the Naval Academy. You pulled the mix of high school graduation tassels, your first set of dog tags, and a horribly tacky necklace Henry had bought you from a gumball machine from the rearview mirror before grabbing any relevant items from the glove compartment and front seat. You held the mix of items in your lap, taking one final moment and affectionately rubbing the dashboard. “Thank you, Betsy. You’ve been the best adventure buddy a girl could ask for.”

You got out with a sigh, wiping a few tears away with your freehand as you precariously held the mix of memories and your purse under your arm and Hangman quickly grabbed them for you, placing them in the cab of his truck. The mechanic had since closed your hood, and you took a moment to do what Hangman had suggested and snapped a photo, fighting back another round of tears as you approached the mechanic to give him your information to bill for the tow.

“Don’t worry about it kid, don’t think I could charge you in good faith when you’re this torn up.”

“No, I don’t want to waste your time-”

“I’ll get money from the scrap, word of advice… get a new car this go around, and change the oil.” he said waving you off and you couldn’t help but start crying.

“Honey, it’s just a car,” Hangman said, pulling you into his side as you watched the man and his helper load her up onto the back, “you still have the memories.”

“They’re taking her for scrap. She’s going to be stripped and sold for parts,” you all but blubbered and he soothingly rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. “What a terribly dishonorable way to go.” He continued to hold you as they began to pull away, and you buried your face in his chest, not being able to bear the sight.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing you tight. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing adorable, your deep attachment to the car and the way you cried as if it was a dear friend ripped from you too soon, and not a car he would have guessed was on its last leg about five years ago. “Okay honey, here’s what we’re going to do,” he pulled away slightly once you’d calmed down, wiping the tears from your cheeks and noting how you kept your arms right where they’d been, tightly wrapped around him. “We’re going to head down to the nearest car dealership,” you started shaking your head, feeling another wave of tears coming on, “no, no no,” he wiped them before they could fall, “we’re going to go to the dealership, we’re going to find the car that reminds you the most of Betsy, and we’re going to get you all squared away with her, okay?” You sniffled and nodded, finally detaching yourself from him and dejectedly getting into the truck.

“I’m sure this is not how you planned on spending your day,” you finally said as you made your way back into the city.

“Certainly not, but I’m glad to be here in your time of need. It’s what friends are for,” he said, shooting you a smile before returning his attention to the road and you nodded.

“It must look rather silly, getting so worked up over a car.”

“Not at all, you had a lot of big milestones with Betsy, I know it must be hard letting her go.” He reached behind the seat at a red light, grabbing two pieces of metal and placing them in your lap, “had the mechanic take that off for you while you were saying goodbye.” Your fingers wrapped around the metallic word of the make of your car, the identifying emblem that was covered in nicks and scratches, the foil peeling around the edges and the dusty license plate.

“Jake,” you sighed, looking over at him, “that was… this is really thoughtful, thank you.” You smiled at him, fighting another wave of emotion. You pulled into a car lot, surrounded by newer, shinier cars that in your mind didn’t hold a candle to your own but figured they would have to do. He reached behind the seat again, rooting around in his gym bag and procuring a well-worn Top Gun shirt.

“Not that I don’t love this view,” his eyes glancing down at your chest, “but I’m sure you don’t want creepy car salesmen thinking the same.” You were momentarily disappointed, remembering you’d left your top and yoga pants in the back of the car but let it go before slipping the shirt over your head, trying not to dwell too much on how it smelled like Jake.

“I don’t want you thinking it either, Bagman,” you muttered, accepting his hand as he helped you jump out of the truck.

“Hey, there she is,” he nudged your shoulder as you walked in the front door, immediately greeted by an overly eager salesman and his rather pungent cheap cologne. He led you over to a table where you rattled off a list of things you were looking for… Four wheel drive, AC, noted that upgrading to a bluetooth system wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world and before you knew it you were strolling through the lot looking at potential options.

“What about this one?” Hangman asked, gesturing towards a Jeep, and the man opened the drivers side so you could hop in.

“It smells new,” you observed as Hangman got in next to you.

“Well, that’s because it is.”

“I want the faint cigarette and weed smoke smell I dedicated my entire high school career to embedding into the upholstery.” He chuckled at this, beginning to point out all the cool features.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have your GPS right here, instead of dangerously on your phone?” he asked, pointing to the screen in the dashboard.

“It’s so fancy.”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you but this is actually pretty standard as far as new cars go.”

You scoffed before taking a moment to look around, “I guess it’s not terrible.”

“See? And it's not quite the same shade of green as Betsy, but it’s close, right?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the rearview mirror.

“What do you think? I think it’ll be great for all your new adventures and new memories.” he prodded, trying to get you excited about it.

“It’ll do,” you nodded and he pumped his fist, deciding to take what he could get as you climbed out of the car.

“She’ll take it.”

-----

You later found yourself at the Hard Deck, nursing a spicy margarita as Hangman desperately tried to raise your spirits. Rooster and Phoenix walked in, talking about the sexy Jeep in the parking lot and you groaned, head colliding with the wooden bar top and they both looked at you confused.

“What did you do to her?” Rooster asked, placing a hand on your back.

“Me? What did I do? Oh, I don’t know, just rescued her off the side of the road and spent the better part of my day trying to get her stoked about her new ride.”

“The Jeep is yours?” Phoenix asked, accepting a beer from Penny.

“Yes,” you mumbled against your arm.

“And we’re upset about this?” Rooster asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We had to put Betsy to rest, it’s been a rough day.” Hangman explained and you just made an unintelligible noise.

“Betsy?” Rooster and Phoenix asked at the same time and Hangman just shook his head as you stood from the bar suddenly, ignoring the headrush and making your way to the jukebox.

“It’s like you people don’t even know me,” you muttered.

“I think this is a good time to mention this is her fourth margarita,” Hangman said, watching as you fumbled with the buttons.

“Fifth,” Penny corrected, causing the aviators to all look at her, “she pounded another one when you went to the bathroom.” They returned their attention to you, blinking incredulously as the sounds of Angel rang throughout the bar, causing every other patron to look your way confused and slightly annoyed.

“Oh my god,” Rooster said, mouth agape as he took in the scene before him.

“I didn’t even know this was on the jukebox,” Penny said. Phoenix stifled a laugh, watching as you leaned against the piano, clutching your drink with your eyes closed.

“I don’t think she was this upset when I almost died,” Rooster said, eyes growing concerned as you swayed before catching yourself and sinking onto the piano bench.

“Dude, you didn’t even see her on the side of the road. I’ve never seen her show so much emotion that wasn’t anger,” Hangman said.

“I can hear you.” you half-yelled, taking another sip of your drink and humming along to the song. “In the arms of the angel, fly awaaaay from here,” you sang drunkenly, and horribly out of tune and Rooster couldn’t contain it any longer, turning towards Penny as he laughed.

“Oh, this is bad,” Phoenix said, also succumbing to her giggles.

“Guys. Guys, guys,” you whisper shouted, gesturing them over and they slowly approached you, “a toast, to Betsy.” you said, sticking your now nearly-empty glass in the air.

“To Betsy,” they all said almost in the form of a question as they clinked their glasses to yours.

“It is customary,” you paused to hiccup, “at a wake to say nice things.” You looked at the rest of them expectantly, who looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Uh, Betsy was… well, she was a great car, very… vibrant?” Rooster said, hoping it would satisfy you and you nodded along.

“Yes she was,” you mumbled.

“Truly a dependable car, there when you needed her,” Phoenix said.

“You have no idea,” you sniffled.

“I was only there for her final moments, and she went with grace.” Hangman finished and you held your glass up, Rooster biting his lip to contain himself as you cheers’d again.

“What the fuck is going on?” Fanboy asked, as him and Coyote walked in the bar and Penny just shook her head.

“Apparently a wake, don’t ask.” She said, setting two beers in front of them. The rest of the evening went by smoothly, the gang slipping into their usual routine with the added running of interference to keep you from playing sad songs on the jukebox. You watched as Rooster and Phoenix played pool, drinking the water Penny had insisted you switch to as your eyes grew rather heavy.

“You ready to head home, sweetheart?” Hangman asked, stepping in front of you and taking your glass to set on the table and you just nodded. “Did you come with Rooster?” he asked Phoenix who nodded and he fished your keys from your purse and pulled the car fob off to toss to her, “drive her car home whenever you’re done, I’ll cover your Uber.” He scooped you up as you half-heartedly waved to everyone, smiling as they told you to feel better.

“He’s so whipped,” Fanboy said, chuckling as the group watched you leave.

“Jake?” you asked as he buckled you into his truck and he looked down at you expectantly, “you’re a pretty good friend.”

“That I am, and you’re hammered, princess, so we’re going to get you home, okay?” He closed the door gently and jogged around to the drivers side, sighing as he saw you already falling asleep against the window. On the short drive to your house he thought to himself that he should have been annoyed, spending a day fetching you from the side of the road in the blazing heat, placating you as you cried, taking care of you while you drank yourself numb to toast the memory of a car but he wasn’t, not in the slightest. He honestly wouldn’t have rather been anywhere else than by your side during your time of need, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the way his heart clenched when he saw your sleeping form in his truck, looking so peaceful in stark contradiction to the slight rings of mascara around your eyes. Even as he carried you to your porch, precariously balancing you as he fumbled to get your front door open he couldn’t find it in himself to muster a Hangman-esque comment, all he wanted to do was get you into bed safe and sound.

You whined as he set you upright on your bed, forcing you to stay sitting as he crouched before you to pull off your sneakers, “are you a socks-on or socks-off person for bed?” he asked.

“Off, do you think I’m some sort of psycho?”

He chuckled, “after today I’m not really sure what you are, darlin’.” He slipped them off and helped you crawl under the covers, disappearing momentarily to get you a glass of water and root around your kitchen cabinets until he found the ibuprofen, which he set on your nightstand when he returned. “Okay, honey, take those first thing when you wake up. I’ll call you in the morning,” he patted your shoulder as he went to take his leave and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“You’re going?” you asked, your voice so small he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It appears my duties have been fulfilled.”

“I don’t think so,” you responded and he looked down inquisitively, “will you stay?” you asked, patting the bed beside you.

“Luring me into your quarters at this time of night? What do you take me for, a floozy?” he joked, placing a hand on his chest.

“That’s exactly what I take you for.”

“That’s insulting, sweetheart. As tempting as you’re making this sound, I think you should get some rest.” You just pawed at his hand gripping it and looking up at him with the saddest puppy dog eyes you could muster. He sighed, leaning up to turn your lamp off and walking around your bed, where he internally debated whether or not he should keep his shorts on. He decided to slip them off, already knowing you’d pitch a fit if you felt the rough chino fabric rub against you in the night and slid in beside you, careful to keep a safe distance, but that went out the window as you curled up against him, his arm instinctively raising so you could rest your head on his chest.

“Jake?” you asked and he hummed in acknowledgement, “thank you for today. It was really very cool of you.” You felt his chest rumble below you as he chuckled.

“Anytime, sweetheart, get some sleep,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rubbing along your back as he waited for the sound of your breathing to even out. Looking down at your arm wrapped around him, head nuzzled into his chest he wiped his free hand along his face as he sighed.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

previous part / next part

#Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman #hangman x reader #Hangman x Y/N #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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mollymauk-teafleak · 1 year ago

Text

can I go where you go?

I wanted to write something short, sweet and featuring old married navy pilots. Huge thanks to @hangsters who is my favourite person on the planet.

Please reblog and go comment over on Ao3!

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Maverick knows theres a lot he isn't very good at. He's not good at following orders. He's not good at playing by the rules. He's not good at listening.

But one thing he was always good at was flying planes. And now, he's not a naval aviator anymore. He's a retired naval aviator.

So what the hell is he supposed to do now?

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He was never Maverick in his dreams.

In there, he was always still Pete Mitchell, even now, even after forty years. In fact, they were one of only two places where he still was.

It was like real life but viewed on a screen that was blowing in the wind, things trembled and swelled and shifted in front of him. He reached for the throttle but missed it the first few times, groping blindly as the sky outside of the windshields shimmered in nonexistent heat. But Pete didn’t need to see anything to know the danger was out there, the black shapes hunting him down, faster and meaner than he could ever be. Pete was running out of time, he knew that with the cold, chilling certainty of a dream. When he was awake, he always saw that way out, even if it was one he had to make himself, but there was no winning against his own mind. They had minutes, maybe seconds.

But those seconds didn’t just belong to Pete Mitchell. He had Bradley in the seat behind him, at least mostly Bradley. Sometimes things would shift and it would be Goose behind him, laughing and grinning, unaware of death standing just at his shoulder. But even when it was Bradley, he spoke with the voice of his younger self, a voice that sounded like it should be coming from somewhere around Pete’s hip, clinging to his leg, begging him for help. It’s not working! And it wouldn’t work, there was no ejecting from this.

I’m sorry. Alarms were blaring, the wind was rushing. The blues of sky and sea condensed into smoke, a fire they were flying right into and couldn’t avoid. I’m sorry. Pete was talking to Goose, to Carole, to Ice, to Bradley and it wasn’t enough for any of them. I’m sorry.

The moment the fire engulfed them, his eyes snapped open, same as every other time he had this dream, leaving him lying on his back in a tangle of sweat damp blankets. There were worse nightmares, that was for sure, he could at least instantly wake up and tell himself you did it, you pulled it off, you got the kid home safe.

But the weight on his chest didn’t lift, even as their bedroom came into focus around him, as the sound of soft breathing beside him replaced the sound of the screaming alarms and whistling air that would run out too soon. The dream had let him go but the anxiety was still hissing in his nerves and churning his stomach.

He was never Maverick in his dreams. But at least he always got to wake up and know he was Maverick, that he owned that name completely and earned it every day in the air.

This morning, he wasn’t so sure.

Maverik had opened his eyes to a perfect Saturday morning. He didn’t know what time it was, it was an hour late enough to honey the room with warm sunlight. Not quite the fierce San Diego heat, just the promise of it, not too much that he couldn’t turn and burrow back under the blankets. Not something Mav had ever actually done before. Navy pilots didn’t tend to sleep in on Saturdays.

But he wasn’t a navy pilot anymore. And he had no idea what retired Navy pilots were supposed to do.

He’d known it was coming for a while, disentangling from the bureaucratic monster that was the United States military took a hell of a long time, even when you were sleeping with the guy who was meant to be in charge of it all. There had been months between him and Ice kissing on the carrier after the Dagger mission, that moment where he’d realized he was done, that he wasn’t strong enough to live any more moments thinking he’d never see his family again, and right now. The morning after his last official day of service.

He was probably supposed to have spent those months processing everything, coming to terms with his decision. Ice had tried to coax him into conversations a few times over the last months. Not outright, they’d been together long enough for him to know better than that. But there had been strong hands on the small of his back in quiet moments out on the deck, a shoulder for him to lean on for a few minutes of silence after he’d finished his request letter but hadn’t had the courage to put it in the envelope yet. Spaces where Mav could have taken the lid off a little, shook things out at Ice’s feet and let him hold him in one piece if things went bad.

And lying here now, no longer a Naval aviator, wearing a set of dog tags around his neck that were just a symbol now, Maverick really wished he’d taken those chances, stepped into those spaces. Maybe he’d know what to do right now if he had. Because all Mav had as far as plans went was to try and not throw up.

“I can feel you vibrating, Mitchell…”

Mav started guiltily, only now realizing that he was tapping his fingers on the mattress and bouncing his heel, “Shit…”

Ice’s chuckle was rough with sleep, his eyes slightly clouded when he rolled over to smile at Maverick, though the creases around his eyes hadn’t changed since ‘86. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, finding the sun up before his husband must have happened only a handful of times. But he couldn’t lie and say the moment Ice wrapped his arms around him, he didn’t breathe a little easier.

“It’s okay. Wanted to be up with you anyway,” Ice’s voice didn’t lose its rough edge, he always sounded like he’d just woken up lately and that was on a good day. But it was a strong vibration against Maverick’s ear as he burrowed into his bare chest, “You had a nightmare?”

It wasn’t a question really. Ice knew him too well, enough that he’d also know it wasn’t the nightmare that was upsetting Mav.

“Yeah…” Maverick’s fingers found the chain around Ice’s neck, the one that matched his own, letting the familiar coolness of it make him brave, “Ice…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

He felt lips against his forehead, pressing softly, “Sweetheart…”

Maverick sighed, “You can tell me I’m an idiot. I know I should have figured this shit out about three months ago.”

Ice snorted, shifting onto his back and bringing Maverick with him, letting his husband sprawl, cat like, on his chest. Roughened fingers trailed down his spine and softened the knowing smirk on Ice’s face.

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t have got this figured out in three years and we both know it. This was always going to hurt a little, even if you had listened to me.”

“Well, good thing I didn’t bother doing that then,” Mav muttered against Ice’s skin, still warm from the sheets, still smelling faintly of soap from his shower before bed.

He could feel Ice smiling as he traced his spine up and down, “Well, we’re here now and there’s no time like the present. So what’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

Maverick tried to marshal the thoughts that were forming the small storm in his stomach. He felt the urge to clam up, lock down, to preserve some of the easy confidence that shielded him along with the sunglasses and leather jacket. But he had none of that right now. He didn’t need it, not with Ice, he never had.

“I…I guess I’m not sure how to…not be a pilot?” he wound his fingers more securely in the chain of his husband’s tags, “I don’t remember liking myself a lot before I was one.”

Ice’s lazy grip on him tightened a fraction, “That wasn’t you. It was where you were and what was happening to you. You’re so far from that, sweetheart, and you’re sure as hell not going back.”

Maverick nodded, finding it so much easier to believe things when Ice said them, like there was some magic in his calm, authoritative voice that made things real, “I know that. I do. I mean, fuck, if you’d told that kid that one day he’d be wearing a set of dog tags that said Captain ‘Maverick’ Mitchell…”

“Not to mention the Admiral’s wedding ring,” Ice teased, hand slipping down to lightly squeeze his hip where he was ticklish.

“That too…” Mav jerked, grinning crookedly, shifting so that hand could slip a little further, “But you know what I mean. That I’d have my wings, that strangers in the store would call me ‘sir’ without even thinking twice. That I’d be someone’s dad.”

“The best dad she could ask for,” Ice added, “But you know none of that goes away just because you’ve retired, sweetheart.”

“Yeah…” Maverick murmured, though it sounded like he wanted to put a question mark at the end.

Ice made a gentle noise, rolling them so Maverick was pressed down into the bed, so he could find that anxious gaze and hold it.

“Mav. All of those things you love about yourself, the Navy didn’t give them to you. You earned them. You worked hard for them and whether you’re a Captain or not, no one’s going to take them from you.”

Maverick exhaled softly, leaning into Ice’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm, “But…what do I do now? Without the Navy telling me what to do?”

“As if you ever listened in the first place,” Ice flashed him a smile, holding Maverick’s face between his hands like he was something precious, “Well…if you need to be told what to do, then here. We’re going to get out of bed, we’re going to shower. I’m gonna go first because you say I take forever and you’ll sneak in with me and let me wash your hair for you…and then you’ll steal my shirt for when we go get breakfast together. We’ll go to the same place we always go, where the waitress flirts with you but she flirts with me more. And I’ll have to order an extra hash brown because for some unknown reason, you always steal mine rather than just order your own. And then we’ll walk along the beach, you’ll kick water at me because you always do…and then we’ll come home and watch the game, you can tell me all your incorrect opinions about the 49ers. And you’ll fall asleep on my shoulder and…and I’ll remember that I’m the luckiest man on the goddamn planet.”

Maverick swallowed, feeling heat prickling behind his eyelids when he blinked, “Yeah? That sounds nice.”

Ice brought his forehead down to gently rest on his husband’s, “And after that…well, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Maverick put his hands over Ice’s, tangling their fingers together, feeling something unbreakable in that, “If every day looks like that one? Count me in, sweetheart.”

Ice’s lips were warm on his, sure, certain. From that one point of contact, Maverick could feel color flooding in, the sketched out, empty version of his body he’d woken up in suddenly becoming real, becoming completely his own again. He let go of Ice’s hands, wrapping his arms around his husband’s broad shoulders, following the chain of his dog tags again. He kissed him back, fingers tracing old scars on Ice’s skin that Maverick could map even better than his own, ghosting over freckles he knew like the constellations, until the breath in his lungs was more Ice’s than his.

“Do have one…one small note…” he panted against Ice’s lips, “Any room in that schedule for you to rock my world, sweetheart?”

Ice flashed the smile that had been making Mav’s knees weak since the eighties and probably would still when they were in their eighties, “I’ll make time to do it twice...”

Maverick’s head fell back against the pillows, his grin crooked and wholly his own, “God, I love you…”

“I love you too, Pete Mitchell…” Ice left him with a kiss on the cheek before moving down his body.

The world became the warmth of the morning sun on his bare skin, the comforting weight of Ice against him, the brush of his lips trailing from his neck to his chest to his stomach to the inside of his thighs. A world he could feel comfortable in, one made with a space for him, one that Ice had given him and he’d earned himself.

There were two places where he was still Pete Mitchell. One was his nightmares, where it was a way to cut him down, to send him spinning in free fall without his wings and shatter on the ground

The other place was in Tom Kazansky’s arms. And there it was only because Ice loved every single part of him, he would put him back together and not change a single thing. He could be Pete Mitchell, he could wear the name he’d been given before he knew he was a man. He could be Lieutenant, he could be Captain, he could be wearing whatever name and Ice would see the same person and love him the same.

Pete Mitchell took a breath and started looking forward.

#icemav #top gun #top gun fic #tg86 #tgm #pete mitchell #tom kazansky #iceman #maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #please reblog and comment!

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