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sunnysidevans · 7 months ago

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Somewhere Between California and Texas - J.Seresin.

Summary: When your best friend and her fiance have co-bachelor parties and you thought you were going to be the only single one but one green eyed aviator saves the day - his specialty.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

a/n: this was a request I received but I received two requests that were almost identical so in summary the request was in summary this. I hope whoever they are that requested this likes it because actually I think rom-com type fics are my thing because I LOVED writing this!

The airport was jammed packed for 7am on a Tuesday morning.

You stood against the windows, watching the planes landing and taking off.

You thought booking an early flight would get you out of the San Diego International Airport a lot quicker than something later in the day.

Sighing, you notice a seat opens at the end of the row, quick to rush towards it just for someone to beat you to it and sit down. You gasp, looking at the man who grins.

“Seriously?” you scuff, looking him up and down watching the smirk grow on his lips, twirling the toothpick between his teeth.

“Mine now sweetheart” he winks.

He watches the way you sulk back over to the window and sit down. Within a few minutes the overhead speaker picked up with a screech.

“Now boarding for flight 7552 to Austin now boarding, if you need assistance or are in a wheelchair this is for you, we also invite any military personnel to make their way to the gate”

You watch as the man stands up from his seat and makes his way to the gate. You should’ve known he was military.

Finally shoving your bag in the overhead bin, you sit down in your seat with a heavy sigh, “howdy” you look over at the voice, narrowing your eyes.

There he sat, across the aisle with a smirk.

“Hello” you reply sarcastically and pull the headphones back over your ears and sit back. You can feel his eyes watching you as you adjust in the seat. This was gonna be a long flight.

“Welcome to Austin!” the flight attendant grinned as you exited the plane, quick to grab your suitcase and make your way outside.

As you are coming down the escalator you are greeted with your best friend's grin and a huge sign on a pink poster board “(Y/N)”.

You laugh, rushing to her with a squeal, hugging her tightly. “Hi!” She laughs, linking your arms together and walking towards the door.

Your best friends, Jean and Johnny, were getting married in a few weeks and it was bachelorette weekend.

“Johnny is so excited you are here” she smiles as you chuckle, squeezing her hand. “I doubt that” you grin, packing your suitcase in the back of her car.

As you close the trunk your eyes connect with Military man once again who takes two fingers and salutes towards you with a wink.

Rolling your eyes, you climb into the passenger seat of Jean’s car. “I need food and some coffee” you groan and fall back into the seat. “How was the flight?” she questions as you shrug, “a normal one, though I got sat by this guy who practically pushed me out of the way for a seat” she scoffs, “that dick!”. You laugh, nodding along with her.

“Low and behold he is on the flight in the aisle across from me” she laughs as you shake your head. “I couldn’t believe the entitlement!” she nods in agreement.

Making your way into your best friend's home, you can hear Johnny yell from upstairs. “Jeanie?!” you grin as she nods, you raise the pitch of your voice, yelling back to him, “yes sweetie?!”.

He laughs as he makes his way down the steps, a grin on his face. “Hi (y/n)!” he rushes down the steps to come and give you a hug.

Johnny was a military man himself, stationed here now for the last six years but previously in San Diego where the three of you met.

“How’re you doin Johnny?” you smile, crouching to the floor to love on the dogs who ran up to you excitedly. “Great!” he grins, looking at you and then back at his fiance who smiles. “So what's the game plan?” you ask, sipping on your coffee as you look between the two of them. “I have a couple friends coming in still” Johnny notes, sipping his own cup. You nod, smiling as you turn to Jean.

“I still have Natalie and Anna coming but other than that just you guys” you nod eagerly with a smile growing. “I haven’t seen either of them in so long” they both nod, “they are also both bringing their spouses…” Johnny trails off. “Oh” you look down at the steaming cup of coffee and nod. “No problem!” you add, plastering the smile on your face.

Attending weddings alone has become a common thing for you. A combo bachelor party was gonna be no different.

“(y/n)..” Jean speaks first after the first few minutes of silence. “It's fine jeanie!” you shake your head, sipping on the last of the coffee and standing.

“I think i am gonna catch a nap” you mumble, walking towards the kitchen as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it” Johnny stands and makes his way to the door, as it opens you can hear the cheers of him and you guess one of his friends.

“Jeanie! Jake’s here!” Johnny states from the breezeway. You stop short coming from the kitchen as the man takes his hat off and a grin grows on his face.

“Howdy” he nodded towards you, your eyes were wide.

Jean speaks first,“This is (y/n), my best friend!” she grins as you nod slowly.

Military man was standing in your best friend's house, which now has a name, Jake. “oh we’ve met” he notes with a growing smile, you nod with a sigh. “Hello” you mumble walking past him and up the stairs. Jake grins from his place as he watches you go up the steps.

The table was full on both sides. Night had fallen and everyone for both parties arrived. The restaurant was loud as you sat secluded in a corner of the table, beside Jake, who you have now learned was also the only single person for this weekend.

“So everyone” Johnny stands, beer in hand and a grin on his face. “I am so excited to have you all here!” he continues, “the weekend plans are of course tomorrow we head to a longhorns game, it's only honorary” he grins at the cheers from his friends.

“And we will see how we feel the next few days, tomorrow is a big day for the Longhorns!” He holds his beer out as everyone else follows. You sip the water and slouch in your chair. “So, you’re the only single friend of jeans huh?” Jake questions from beside you as you sigh, looking over at him.

“Unfortunately, they just call me ‘the single one’ in the friend group” he nods with a hum, “don’t worry I have the same” he chuckles. “Maybe i will find myself a nice cowboy or something” you grumble with a chuckle as he grins, “why look? I found you one” he smirks, sipping his beer as he turns to his left, continuing the conversation with Scott, another groomsman.

Jean grins from her end of the table, beside Johnny with a thumbs up. You shake your head with a sigh, smiling at the waitress who was beside you with your plate of food. You can’t help but feel Jake’s green eyes lingering as you turn to your food.

A sea of orange filled the stands of Texas Memorial Stadium. You grin as you follow behind the group as everyone who passed by had a kind smile. Jake followed beside you in his own orange jersey, brown cowboy hat perched on his head.

“Alright everyone, this is our box so we can order food and drinks everything we want here” Jean grins around the box at the group of her friends, you smile nodding and making your way to sit down on one of the couches. “So, how’re ya doin?” Jean sits beside you within a few minutes, smiling. “I’m fine” you look over at your best friend with raised brows trying to read the look on her face.

“Are you sure?” she questions, thanking Johnny as he sets a glass of wine in her hands. “Yes, I am sure” you look at her as she nods, sitting back against the cushions.

“I know this is awkward for you being ya know, the only single one” she mumbles while sipping her wine. You shrug, sitting back and watching out the windows at the team warming up.

“I’m fine Jean” you snap and stand from the couch and decide to go and look around the stadium.

You can hear the cheers of the crowds as the first whistle is heard and the game begins.

“You know it's almost disrespectful to only be wearing a plain orange shirt” you turn at the sound of the voice, smiling at Jake. He has a smirk on his lips, not condescending but almost, teasing.

“I didn’t come prepared” you smile, looking back through the merchandise table. “Pick one” he grins, watching as you look through the table of shirts and sweatshirts.

“What?” you look at him with a raised brow, shirt in hand. “Is that your pick?” he asks as you hold the orange shirt in your hand, a small longhorn logo on the front, the state of Texas on the back.

“I like this one yes” you trail off as he takes it from your hand and makes his way to the woman who grinned behind the register. “Is that all for you dear?” her southern drawl was heavy as he nodded, smiling.

“Jake!” rushing over to him you try slapping the card out of his hand as he shakes his head, handing it to the woman. “Nope, i will be purchasing your first piece of texas longhorn merchandise” he smirks, taking his card back and shoving it in his pocket.

“Would you like me to cut the tag off honey?” the older woman asks, looking at you. Nodding, you take the shirt from her once the tags are off. “Have a nice day you two” she waves as you both thank her, walking back towards the skyboxes.

“You gonna put it on?” Jake stops by the restrooms as you blush, “I will meet you upstairs”.

The room cheers as Jake, the resident Texan makes his way back in the skybox. Jean stands quickly rushing to him, ”did you see (y/n)?”.

Jake nods, reaching out to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Why, what's wrong?” he asks as she sighs, pushing her hair out of her face, a sign of stress for Jean.

“I sat with her, I can tell she’s a bit down in the dumps about being the only person single, other than you” Jake can’t help his eye roll but she continues, “I should know better than to press but she snapped at me and walked out” she sighs.

“She’s fine Jean” he squeezes her shoulder reassuringly as you make your way back in, t-shirt on. “There you are!” she rushes over to you, hugging you tightly. You stumble slightly, catching her and hugging her back with furrowed brows.

“I’m okay Jeanie” you mumble with a chuckle as she shakes her head. “I got worried, this is a big place, and i want you here, with me” she takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jeanie, it’s okay, I'm fine, I just needed to step away” she nods, noticing the smile on your lips, different than before but there.

She makes her way beside Johnny as you stand beside Jake, both sharing knowing smiles.

“So, wait what does this mean now?” you ask, standing by the window as both teams are standing on the field. “The games in overtime” Jake mumbles beside you, hands on his hips as you look over at him.

“Right, but why are they just standing there?” he chuckles, looking over at you then back out the window. “They are doing the coin toss, like at the beginning of the game” he watches the realization on your face as you nod. Jean sits behind the two of you, watching the conversation between you.

“Seems to be getting along” Anna mumbles beside her, her own husband moving to stand beside Jake. “Thank god, the beginning seemed pretty tense” Jean mumbles as she watches you two.

Slipping through the door to go out into the open seats, standing on the balcony, Jake follows behind you.

The cheers were so loud, you couldn’t believe it as you looked around you. “This is Texas” Jake grins,looking over at you,sharing the same smile, this time Jake can’t help but notice that it reaches your eyes.

The end of the game was even better than the whole experience, walking beside the group you notice all the people exiting the stadium are cheering with grins on their faces. Many smile at you as they pass. Jake is beside you then, nudging you gently. “So, did you enjoy your first Longhorns game?” he asks as you chuckle, nodding.

“I actually did, I may not have known much of what was going on but I did my best” he grins, watching as the group walks ahead of you two. “I love how” you trail off, trying to think of the right words, “it seems so homey” he nods hands in his pockets. “Are you staying with the love birds?” Jake questions as everyone gets into the packed car, thankfully you all Ubered to the stadium.

You nod, sitting in the back of the ford expedition. The car ride is then silent, Jake notices the way you shivered slightly, he pulls the orange jacket off his shoulders, putting it over yours.

Looking up at him, you smile and pull your arms through it, leaning against him as you two were the only ones sober in the vehicle.

The green numbers on the nightstand are almost haunting as they continue to softly tick. You had been home now for hours but still couldn’t sleep. The soft buzz of your phone pulls you from your fifth time counting the ceiling tiles.

Unknown: please don’t question how I got your number and please don’t find this creepy at all but I can’t sleep and wondered if you were awake?

you smile but then the three bubbles show up again.

It's Jake, should’ve clarified

You giggle.

You: thank god for the clarification I was terrified someone was haunting me down

Biting your lip before responding again,

do you know good places to eat at this hour?

You watch the bubbles pop up and back down before a message comes through,

Be ready in 15

Standing on the front porch of your best friend's home, you watch the cars pass down the street. You did not expect this to be the way this trip was going, you did not expect the man who stole your seat in the airport to be pulling up in his Ram truck and honking to pull you out of your daydream.

Skipping down the steps you rush to the passenger side door, which the driver side door opens before your hand reaches the handle.

“Negative ma’am” he grins, opening the door for you, the running boards coming down for you to step in. “We never let a lady open their own doors” Jake adds as you smile, looking him up and down in his sweatpants and long sleeve.

“Have you ever been to Texas before?” Jake asks in the dead of night, the streets are quiet but also still buzzing from the Longhorns win. “Only a few times, I came down when Jean and Johnny first moved here” you look over at him as he nods eyes back forward on the road.

“I feel like you haven’t even seen the city!” he adds enthusiastically.

The city was still bright as you and Jake drove through the streets eventually making it down back roads. “Jake!” you gasp, pointing to the horses in the fields, it was now almost 5 am, the sun rising slowly.

He pulls to the side of the road to let you out excitedly, you rush to the fence with your hand out to let the brown horse sniff it.

Jake watches from behind you, a smile on his face. “That’s Finn” He adds, arms crossed over his chest as you turn to him, “what?” you ask as he nods.

“Finnegan, he’s my horse actually” Jake smiles as the horse huffs out against your hand and lets you continue to pet him. He nuzzles his snout into your palm as you smile wider.

“What do you mean he’s your horse?” you question over your shoulder as Jake moves beside you. “This is my family's land, our ranch is just around the corner” he grins as you smile, watching the way Finn reacts to Jake, nibbling on his jacket.

“Hey now” Jake laughs, gently moving his snout away from his sleeve. “Can we go horseback riding?” you question after a few minutes of silence, “wanna?” he asks as you nod eagerly like a little kid on christmas. Jake notices the way your eyes light up at the idea. “Alright, c’mon” he grins, leading you to the truck to get back in.

The barn was quiet in the early hours of the morning, Finn stood in his stall as Jake threw the saddle over his back. Standing in the doorway of the barn you watch as the sun is slowly peeking behind the clouds.

"You gonna help me over there?” Jake questions as you turn to face him, he stands in the stall beside Finns beside another horse, all black with a hint of brown on his snout.

“This is Percy” you smile, walking to him slowly. Percy approaches you slowly as you hold your hand out to him, he happily nuzzles into your hand. “Lets saddle em up” Jake grins, walking to the tack room and grabbing a saddle for you. Rushing behind him he pulls the saddle off the shelf. “I’ve never done this before” he grins, walking back to the stall where you left Percy. He huffs as you help Jake toss the saddle over his back, reaching to put the strap under his belly.

Jake took over then as you sat back on the bale of hay. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your purse as Jake's voice pulled you from your thoughts, “You ready?” Jake asks as you turn to face him, Finn stood beside him, his reins in Jake’s hands as Percy stood on the other side of him.

You nod, walking to him, taking the reins of Percy, he begins following your lead. Jake watches as you make your way to him, hands on his hips, “you want some help up there?” he asks as you nod shyly.

Jake puts his leg out and hands out towards you, “step up on my knee and I will help you the rest of the way” you look between him and the horse before Percy huffs heavily.

“Hold onto the horn, it will help when you swing your leg over,” Jake encourages as you reach up and hold onto the horn, his hands on your waist as he hoists you up into the saddle. You giggle, adjusting in the seat and running your fingers through Percy’s mane.

The sun had fully risen by the time you and Jake made it out on the trail. You couldn’t believe it. “It's so gorgeous” you mumble beside him as he looks over at you, “yeah? A texas sunrise is perfect” he agrees as you both stop on the hillside. Percy and Finn both huffing at the standstill, “Jake?” he hums in response as you look over at him.

“Thank you for making this trip really memorable” he grins. “I need to make any Austin trip memorable” he replies, grinning as a peaceful silence falls between you both.

“I guess we should head back” you sigh as he nods.

“Race ya!” you grin, rushing by him on Percy, squealing loudly. “Hey! No fair you got a head start!” he laughs behind you, clicking his teeth to rush after you.

Sliding the shade up beside you, the sunny skies of California greets you.

Smiling shyly, you watch as the beaches slowly come into view, the world of California becoming more than just a little speck in the sky.

“Welcome to San Diego International, we hope you enjoy your stay” you smile shyly at the flight attendant, making your way through the terminal. A weekend away from San Diego was more than enough for you. Standing at baggage claim you sigh heavily. You knew the amount of work was waiting for you in the office tomorrow.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling it out, you smile,

Jeanie: did you make it home okay?

smiling, you typed a quick reply.

You: yes jeanie i did, now please go and finalize all them wedding details!

You smile at the love reaction to the message. Making your way out the airport you can’t help the lingering feeling maybe Jake was there too, collecting his baggage.

You did travel together before but your flights home were different. You made your way to the long term parking, adjusting the Texas Longhorn t-shirt on your shoulders.

After being home for a couple of days, you make your way through the office doors, briefcase in hand and you can hear the cheers of your colleagues.

“She’s back!” your assistant, Andi cheers as you smile. “Hello hello” you laugh walking past her to make your way into your office, stopping at the vase on your desk.

“What’s that?” you question, setting the briefcase in the chair,approaching your desk. “I don’t know” Andi mumbles as she smiles, “they were delivered early this morning” she adds.

Reaching for the card you pluck it off, opening it.

Have a great first day back, don’t ask how I found out where you work or that it was your first day back ;), J

you smile, shutting the card. “I know where they are from” you mumble, smiling at the wildflowers in the vase. She nods, making her way out of the office and shutting the door gently.

Reaching for your phone, you smile and quickly type out the message.

You: Stalkerish much? The flowers are beautiful, thank you

you see the little ‘read’ before the ellipsis came and went.

“You are awfully smiley” Coyote notes as Jake looks up from his phone, setting it beside him on the chair in the common room. “Eh” he shrugs as Rooster and Bob sit down on the couch across from them. “No i noticed it, it's been going on for a couple days” Bob notes as he sighs.

“He met someone” Phoenix mumbles behind her oatmeal, sitting beside Rooster with a smirk. “You did?” Coyote snaps as Jake sighs, “I mean, I did” he nods as the group oos and ah’s. “Are we gonna meet her?!” Fanboy questions as Jake shrugs with a smirk.

“Who knows?” He stands and makes his way past the group, “now if you excuse me, I am gonna go start working on some flight plans” he walks out the room as the group cheers at the slight blush on his cheeks but a smirk on his face.

He had a plan.

The office was quiet. All the lights were off except for your office and Andi’s desk where she worked on her own filing of cases. The elevator doors open and she thinks nothing of it as the cleaners were on their way in for the evening.

“Excuse me” Andi looks up from her desk, eyes widening at the man in front of her. Stood in his flight suit, Jake grins, hands in his pockets as she takes her glasses off.

“Do you know where I could find (y/n) (y/l/n)?” he questions as she looks at him, blinking. “Uh, she stepped out quickly but her office is there, can I ask who you are?” she questions as he smiles. “My name's Jake, can I wait for her there?” he motions to the office doors as she nods.

He makes his way inside, smiling as he notices how homey your office was, looking through the photos. “Andi, please go home” he perks up at the sound of your voice with a grin, he stands, making his way to the middle of the room. “I have my own work” he hears Andi argue as you shake your head, “please go home, we can work more tomorrow” after a few minutes of debate, Andi sighs.

You push the door open, heels skidding on the carpet floor. Jake stands with a sheepish smile on his lips, hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he grins, “jake?” you question. “Oh my god” you rush to him, arms around his neck as you hug him tightly. “What are you doing here?!” you pull away from him with wide eyes, “I felt one weekend in Austin was not enough and needed to see you again" he smiles at the blush on your cheeks.

The bass from the bar could be heard for miles as you sat beside Jake in his Jeep. He climbs out and makes his way to your side, hand held out to help you out of the vehicle.

“Welcome to the hard deck my dear” he grins, hand on the small of your back as the two of you make your way inside.

You and Jake had been seeing each other now exclusively for a few weeks and he was ready to introduce you to the Dagger Squad.

The bar was quiet still for the early hours of the night. “Hangman!” the voice yells, Jake's hand reaches for yours, “my friends are overbearing okay?” he warns as you nod slowly, “okay” you chuckle, lacing your fingers with his and follow behind him.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Rooster shouts with a smile, eyes falling beside Jake to you. Standing beside Jake you slightly move behind him, looking around you as you feel multiple sets of eyes on you.

“Funny Rooster” Jake comments as he looks over at you, “guys, this is (y/n)” you look over then, smiling at the group as Jake introduces each aviator one by one.

Phoenix, you learn is Natasha stands and holds a hand out to you, “we appreciate your service” you giggle, shaking her hand. “Well, I appreciate yours” you giggle, sitting between her and Jake.

Within minutes the two of you hit it off.

You feel a gentle tap on your shoulder as the song on the jukebox changes, you look up at Jake who grins. The jukebox begins playing The Righteous Brothers, You’ve lost that lovin feeling.

You giggle, looking at him with furrowed brows, “you owe me a dance” he motions you over, “c’mon” he grins as you take his outstretched hand, standing and following him.

You giggle as he begins singing along to you, “you’ve lost that lovin feelin”. You giggle, arms around his neck as his hands fall to your waist, grin on his lips. “We really need to thank Jean and Johnny” he mumbles against your forehead as you lean into him, “why's that?” he grins as the two of you sway to the music.

“They brought me you, even though you were here in San Diego right under my nose” he whispers in your ear as you blush, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

“Hey” he encourages you to look up at him, he smiles and reaches out cupping your cheek. “I mean it” he adds as you smile up at him.

“All it took was traveling 1,154 miles to Austin Texas” you smile as he chuckles, “between California or Texas, i choose to spend it with you” he grins, “even though you pushed me out of the way for a seat?” he rolls his eyes playfully, “okay beside that” you smile.

“You made texas so enjoyable and now you make my life here enjoyable” he grins, leaning down to connect your lips, pulling your face closer to him.

Standing on your tippy toes to meet him closer, his lips tasted of the michelob ultra and a hint of the mint gum he was chewing earlier.

Pulling away from him slowly you smile, forehead against his as he grins. “I’d find you again between here and texas all over again” he whispers as you smile, “you big softy” he grins connecting your lips again.

Maybe being the only single friend in the group wasn’t as horrible as you thought.

if you enjoyed this fic and would like to read anything else - you can find that here.

if you requested this fic, thank you! I hope I have done some justice to what you requested as I took FOREVER on it. I enjoy writing Jake so much - keep the requests coming I LOVE them!

#jake seresin #glen powell #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun #jake seresin angst

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itwillbethescarletwitch · 21 days ago

Text

Mr. Perfectly Fine, Meet the King of My Heart

Jake Seresin x Pop Star!Reader x Bob Floyd

You should’ve known something was wrong that night.

Jake hadn’t kissed you when you showed up. He always kissed you. It used to be the first thing he did—before hello, before even looking at you properly. But when you slid into the Hard Deck, dressed down in jeans and one of his old Navy hoodies that you’d cropped yourself, he only looked over his shoulder and smiled like a man who didn’t quite recognize you.

That smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Still, you didn’t push it.

You were used to busy. You were used to pressure. You were used to distance. That’s what happened when a pop star dated a fighter pilot. Schedules clashed. Time zones blurred. The only thing that made it work was trust.

And God, had you trusted him.

After all, this was Jake.

Jake, who flew you to Catalina Island just for your birthday dinner.

Jake, who stayed up until 4am FaceTiming you between stadium shows.

Jake, who’d kissed your knuckles and called you “darlin’” in front of the entire press line at the AMAs.

Jake, who inspired songs like “Call It What You Want” and “Lover.”

He had been everything. He was everything.

Until the moment he wasn’t.

You were halfway across the bar when it happened. You’d stopped to say hi to Phoenix and Bob—sweet Bob, who always offered you his seat and never once asked for a selfie. You hadn’t even made it to Jake’s side yet when you caught a glimpse of blonde. Slender hand. Red nails. Her laugh, high and flirty, practically floated through the air like it was layered with glitter.

Your eyes found them before your brain did.

Her hand on his chest.

His arm around her waist.

Too close.

Too familiar.

You froze.

Maybe…maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Maybe she was just drunk. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was about to push her away and tell her he had someone—someone who just released her second platinum album, someone who thought he was the one.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t stop her.

He just leaned in and whispered something against her ear, and you watched her smile like she’d just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

That was when he saw you.

It was like someone had hit pause on the entire bar.

Jake’s eyes widened.

“Babe,” he called, too late. “Wait, it’s—”

You were already backing away.

Already blinking hard.

Already feeling the air rip out of your lungs in one brutal gust.

Everyone was watching.

Bob stood like he might go after you.

Phoenix cursed under her breath.

Reuben and Mickey looked like they didn’t know whether to tackle Jake or follow you.

But you didn’t give them a chance.

You turned.

Walked out.

Didn’t look back.

And Jake didn’t follow.

⸻

The next morning, it was everywhere.

“POP PRINCESS & NAVY’S GOLDEN BOY: It’s Over!”

“Jake Seresin Caught Cheating—Publicly. Brutally. Stupidly.”

“She Left in Tears. He Stayed With the Other Girl.”

Your phone didn’t stop buzzing for days.

Your fans wanted blood.

Your label wanted a statement.

Your heart wanted…nothing. It was done.

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you disappeared.

You hid out in LA for a week, crying into your own merch hoodie and whispering “I should’ve known” between voice memos you couldn’t bear to play back.

But then—

Then you flew to San Diego.

⸻

You showed up on base like a ghost draped in vintage sunglasses and heartbreak. No press. No entourage. Just you, your notebook, and a guitar.

The squad didn’t know what to say.

Phoenix hugged you like a sister.

Bob nodded, gently, like he didn’t want to scare you off.

Jake was…well. He was there. But you didn’t even spare him a glance.

Instead, you made yourself at home in Hangar 3.

Your studio, for now.

A quiet corner of hell where you could write and rage and feel without interruption.

And write you did.

Every single day.

Songs about lies. About betrayal. About still loving someone you wished you didn’t.

Jake watched from a distance.

Bob brought you coffee.

Neither one of them knew that somewhere between “Mr. Perfectly Fine” and “All Too Well,” you started writing new songs.

Not about Jake.

Not anymore.

These were softer. Secret.

Songs about the way someone’s voice could ground you.

About kindness in the quietest corners.

About a pair of ocean eyes that never looked away when you were hurting.

———

It was raining the first time he showed up with tea.

You didn’t hear him at first—too lost in your own head, curled up in the corner of the hangar with your knees pulled to your chest and your hoodie drawn tight around your face. A half-filled notebook lay open beside you, the pages too damp to write on now, thanks to the open door and a moody coastal wind that didn’t seem to care you were mourning.

You weren’t even crying anymore. You were past that.

You were just… tired.

Then there was a rustle.

You looked up, half-expecting Jake.

But it was Bob.

So quiet. So soft. He stood at the edge of the hangar like he didn’t want to intrude, rain dotting his jacket, glasses fogged at the edges. He didn’t say anything at first—just walked slowly over and crouched beside you, setting down a paper bag and a tall cup with your name scribbled on the side.

“Didn’t know what kind of tea you liked,” he said gently. “So I brought three.”

You blinked at him. Your throat ached. Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I know,” he said. “Didn’t come to talk.”

He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t bring up the headlines. He didn’t mention Jake, or the girl, or the way the entire squad had watched you break like glass in real time.

He just sat.

Pulled out a sleeve of Oreos and placed them between you. Took off his jacket and laid it across your knees. Opened one of the teas—green, lightly sweet—and set it down beside your notebook without another word.

You didn’t speak.

He didn’t push.

But he stayed.

Minutes passed like hours. You listened to the rain. To the rustle of wrappers. To the steady sound of Bob Floyd existing beside you, like some kind of lighthouse in a sea you hadn’t asked to drown in.

And slowly, you reached for the tea.

He didn’t look at you. But when you sipped, he smiled.

⸻

It became a routine after that.

He never asked. Never made it a thing. But somehow, every time you showed up at base with your bag and your notebook and your aching chest, he found you. Sometimes with snacks. Sometimes with blankets. Sometimes with nothing but his calm, anchoring presence.

He’d sit beside you while you scrawled lyrics in red ink, your hand trembling with rage or heartbreak or both.

He never asked to see.

Never tried to pry.

But once—just once—you caught him humming one of your songs under his breath. One of the old ones. A love song, from before.

You didn’t say anything.

But your heart stuttered.

And that night, for the first time in weeks, you wrote a different kind of song.

It wasn’t about Jake.

It was about kindness in borrowed jackets.

It was about the way someone could sit beside you in silence and somehow make it feel like the loudest comfort in the world.

You titled it “Lavender Haze.”

And you didn’t tell a soul.

———

Jake had seen a lot of wild things in his career—enemy missiles, dogfights over desert skies, even a bird strike at Mach speed—but nothing, nothing, prepared him for the gut-punch of walking into the hangar and seeing her laugh.

Not just smile.

Laugh.

And it wasn’t with him.

Bob was sitting beside her on a folded blanket, one arm resting over a box of donuts, the other holding her phone as she showed him something that made her snort. She nudged him with her shoulder and said something Jake couldn’t hear. Bob said something back, awkward and sweet, and she actually leaned her head on his shoulder for a second like it was normal.

Like she did that now.

Jake stood frozen in the doorway.

He hadn’t seen her really laugh since… well, him. Since them.

Now, it was Bob.

It wasn’t fair.

He waited until Bob left—quiet, like he always was. No big goodbye, just a soft little smile and a promise to bring her coffee tomorrow.

Then Jake stepped into the hangar.

You looked up and stiffened immediately. Gone was the easy smile. The laugh. The soft body language. Everything shuttered like a slammed door.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just to talk.”

“About what?” You turned back to your notebook. “You cheat on all your girlfriends or was I just lucky?”

He winced. “That’s not fair.”

You scribbled something in red ink and didn’t even look at him. “You know what’s not fair? Getting humiliated in front of your friends and fans by someone who said he loved you.”

Jake stepped closer. “I did love you.”

“No, Jake,” you said, eyes finally locking with his. Cold. Hard. “You loved that I loved you. You loved the spotlight. The attention. You didn’t love me.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw flexed. “Are you… with him?”

You tilted your head. “With who?”

“Bob.”

You laughed. It wasn’t warm. “God, Jake. If I was, what makes you think you get to care?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I miss you.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way it used to. It was like hearing a song that used to break you and realizing it just didn’t hit the same anymore.

You stood, walked up to him slow.

“You don’t miss me, Jake,” you whispered. “You miss the control. You miss being the one the songs were about.”

And before he could speak again, you stepped around him.

Back to your corner.

Back to your notebook.

Back to the love songs you were finally writing for someone who never once asked to be the center of them.

———

Not just smile.

Laugh.

And it wasn’t with him.

Like she did that now.

Jake stood frozen in the doorway.

He hadn’t seen her really laugh since… well, him. Since them.

Now, it was Bob.

It wasn’t fair.

He waited until Bob left—quiet, like he always was. No big goodbye, just a soft little smile and a promise to bring her coffee tomorrow.

Then Jake stepped into the hangar.

You looked up and stiffened immediately. Gone was the easy smile. The laugh. The soft body language. Everything shuttered like a slammed door.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just to talk.”

“About what?” You turned back to your notebook. “You cheat on all your girlfriends or was I just lucky?”

He winced. “That’s not fair.”

You scribbled something in red ink and didn’t even look at him. “You know what’s not fair? Getting humiliated in front of your friends and fans by someone who said he loved you.”

Jake stepped closer. “I did love you.”

“No, Jake,” you said, eyes finally locking with his. Cold. Hard. “You loved that I loved you. You loved the spotlight. The attention. You didn’t love me.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw flexed. “Are you… with him?”

You tilted your head. “With who?”

“Bob.”

You laughed. It wasn’t warm. “God, Jake. If I was, what makes you think you get to care?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I miss you.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way it used to. It was like hearing a song that used to break you and realizing it just didn’t hit the same anymore.

You stood, walked up to him slow.

“You don’t miss me, Jake,” you whispered. “You miss the control. You miss being the one the songs were about.”

And before he could speak again, you stepped around him.

Back to your corner.

Back to your notebook.

Back to the love songs you were finally writing for someone who never once asked to be the center of them.

———

The Hard Deck didn’t hit the same anymore.

It used to feel warm. Familiar. Like summer in a bottle. Like love and laughter and Jake’s arm around her waist while the squad clapped and joked and told her to sing something on the piano, come on, just one song.

Now, it was cold. Loud. Every corner felt haunted by a ghost with green eyes and a reckless grin.

And he was still here.

Laughing, like nothing happened. Sitting with her. The girl he cheated with.

It had been a week. One week since she caught him with her—in public. One week since she stormed out in tears and said nothing to anyone. One week since the internet exploded with breakup headlines and fan accounts posting side-by-sides of old love songs with the caption:

“Was this about him? 😭😭”

She hadn’t said a word. Not to Jake. Not to the press.

But she didn’t have to. She had a pen.

And if he thought she’d be quiet? He didn’t know her at all.

So she walked in that night dressed to kill. Not for him—but for herself. Big sunglasses even though the sun was down. Blood red lip gloss. Glittery boots and a notebook under her arm. She ordered a Shirley Temple, took a seat at her usual corner table, and started writing like he wasn’t twenty feet away with his hand on that girl’s thigh.

She was going to ruin him.

Until she looked up—and saw Bob Floyd.

Quiet, soft-spoken Bob. In a navy tee with his sleeves rolled up, helping Fanboy and Coyote carry drinks from the bar. Laughing at something Phoenix said, his curls a little wild from the breeze, glasses slipping down his nose. Sweet and unbothered and good in a way that infuriated her.

Her breath caught. She blinked. Blinked again.

No.

No no no. This was not happening.

Because suddenly she was writing a new line in the margin of her heartbreak anthem, and it wasn’t about Jake at all.

You’re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…

She looked away, then looked back.

God. His face.

Look at your face. LOOK. AT. YOUR. FACE.

“You’re so cool it makes me hate you so much,” she mumbled to herself, cheeks burning. She scratched the words onto a napkin, shoved it under her notebook like a dirty secret, and immediately took a sip of her drink to calm down.

She could not be doing this. She wasn’t ready. She was supposed to be angry. She was supposed to be ruining Jake. Not suddenly sitting here imagining Bob Floyd holding her hand and telling her to get some sleep. Not daydreaming about his shy little smile. Not wondering what his voice would sound like whispering into her neck at night.

And yet, she was.

When she peeked up again, Bob caught her looking. He smiled.

Waved.

And her heart betrayed her all over again.

———

The album was done. Twelve tracks, thirty-seven minutes, one hell of a story.

The private listening party wasn’t massive — just a handpicked list of industry reps, a few press faces, and the entire Top Gun squadron. Yes, even him. Jake and the girl he cheated with were posted near the back wall, looking out of place in their half-assed “supportive” poses.

She sat near the front, legs crossed, drink in hand, in a black jumpsuit and boots. Confidence radiating. The heartbreak? Buried under eyeliner and heels. The love songs? Still a secret.

Bob slid into the seat beside her with a soft smile and a gentle, “Hey.” He had a little bag of her favorite candy in his lap.

“Thanks for coming,” she murmured.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He didn’t know. Not yet. About the tracks he’d inspired. About how he helped stitch her heart back together just by being there.

The lights dimmed. A producer leaned over the mic.

“Alright, everyone — here’s the first listen of ‘Lover, Loser, Legend’.”

The first track dropped.

“I was a name in your mouth, a notch in your pride / Now I’m on stages you only dream about at night…”

Phoenix audibly said, “Oop.”

Rooster leaned forward, whispering something low under his breath about how brutal the lyrics were. Jake flinched at the second chorus.

“You said I was dramatic / Turns out I was prophetic…”

By track three, ‘Mr. Perfectly Fine,’ the room was shifting. Jake was white-knuckling his beer. His date was staring at the ceiling like it could save her.

By track five, ‘How Did It End?’, the tears were already welling in her own eyes, but she kept her face calm, unreadable. And then—

“He never looked back, not once / But I kept watching the door…”

Bob’s hand gently brushed her knee. Subtle. Reassuring. He thought she was reliving what Jake did to her — which was half true. But the tears weren’t just about Jake.

Because then track seven began: ‘Gorgeous.’

“You’re so gorgeous / I can’t say anything to your face…”

Her eyes flickered to Bob — who was watching the speakers, brows furrowed.

“And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us / He’s in the club doing I don’t know what…”

“You make me so happy it turns back to sad…”

His head tilted slightly, like he was trying to connect a thread.

Then came ‘Lavender Haze’. And finally ‘Dress’.

Bob sat frozen, lips parted slightly. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. She could feel the question forming in his head.

When the last track faded and the studio lights came back up, applause broke out. Industry people buzzing. Phones lighting up.

But all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

Phoenix leaned across the back of the couch. “Girl… who are the love songs about?”

All eyes were on her.

She glanced sideways, met Bob’s eyes just briefly — and smiled.

“I guess you’ll find out when the tour starts.”

———

Snapbacks, glitter, black sequins. The stadium was packed. A sea of lights. Signs. Chants. They were screaming her name before the first note even hit.

Bob stood among the VIP section, pressed between Phoenix and Rooster. The squad had gotten seats up front—close enough to feel the bass in their bones, to see the sweat on her brow when the spotlight caught her just right.

Jake was further back.

He wasn’t the one she was singing to tonight.

The stage was fire and vengeance for the first half.

She strutted across it like she was born to, voice raw, fearless, devastating.

“I bet you think I’m sleeping soundly / But I’ve been burning every bridge you ever touched…”

Jake looked like he wanted the floor to eat him. Every other line seemed to call him out by name. The fans knew. They screamed and shouted, middle fingers raised when she sang ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived.’

Then the lights went out. Total blackout.

A hush swept the crowd.

One single spotlight clicked on. A piano. Just her.

“There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear…”

Bob blinked.

“I’ve been in a lavender haze…”

Phoenix sucked in a sharp breath. Rooster nudged her.

Bob didn’t move. His eyes were locked on her.

She was sitting now, legs crossed delicately, mic pressed to her lips. And she wasn’t looking at the crowd.

She was looking dead at him.

“You’re so gorgeous / I can’t say anything to your face / ‘Cause look at your face…”

He froze. That line. That smile.

She gave the tiniest tilt of her head. The barest smirk.

“I’ve got a boyfriend, he’s older than us / He’s in the club doing I don’t know what…”

Jake’s eyes widened behind him. “That’s not—”

“Shh,” Phoenix hissed.

“I knew from the first old-fashioned, we were cursed / We never had a shotgun shot in the dark…”

And then—then—came the moment.

The moment the stage went violet, the lights came up, and the synth for ‘Dress’ hit. The whole crowd screamed.

“Only bought this dress so you could take it off…”

She stood again.

Walked slowly, intentionally, to the edge of the stage, eyes never leaving Bob.

“Say my name and everything just stops…”

And he stopped. Every muscle in his body locked.

“I don’t want you like a best friend…”

The implication hit him like a freight train.

His mouth opened just slightly. His breath caught.

Phoenix clutched his arm.

“Oh my god,” Bob whispered.

“Carve your name into my bedpost…”

She smiled.

It wasn’t a seductive smile. It was a knowing one.

She had kept this secret for months. And now it was out, bleeding across speakers, echoing through stadiums, seeping into every pair of headphones around the world.

She ended the song with her eyes still on him.

And when the applause crashed like a wave, when her name echoed from the rafters—

Bob was still standing there, heart racing, mind spinning, stunned into absolute silence.

Because all this time…

Every love song…

Was about him.

———

The roar of the crowd hadn’t faded yet. It pulsed through the concrete of the backstage halls like a heartbeat. Sweat still clung to her brow, her voice was hoarse, her hand clutched a cold water bottle that had long since stopped sweating.

But none of that mattered.

“Ray,” she said, snapping her fingers gently as her ever-faithful bodyguard appeared at her side. “Can you bring Bob back here? The one in the glasses. Blue shirt. Sitting next to Phoenix.”

Ray didn’t even blink. “On it.”

She barely waited a beat before pulling her oversized hoodie on over her stage outfit, pacing the floor of her dressing room like a storm in soft slippers. Her heart was beating too loud. The adrenaline was already starting to crash—but the nerves? Those were just now kicking in.

What if I just made everything weird?

What if he didn’t get it?

What if he did?

A knock on the door.

She nearly tripped trying to get there first.

Ray stepped aside, revealing Bob—still a little wide-eyed, still looking like he hadn’t quite caught his breath. His shirt was rumpled. His cheeks pink. There were about six emotions warring in his expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he answered, eyes flicking to the ground for just a second before finding hers again. “You wanted to see me?”

She nodded, stepping aside so he could enter. It was just the two of them now. The room was quiet, too quiet compared to what they’d just come from. The echo of her lyrics still lingered in the air.

She closed the door behind him gently.

“I figured it was time I stopped hiding.”

Bob swallowed. “They were about me. Weren’t they?”

She didn’t answer with words. She just looked at him. And when he didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, didn’t deny—that was her answer, too.

“You were the only thing that kept me standing after… you know.”

Bob’s voice was soft. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t want you to. I didn’t think I could handle it if you didn’t feel the same way and then I’d ruin the one good thing I had left.”

He blinked slowly. And then—

“I don’t know how you expect someone to feel the same when they didn’t even know they were in the running.”

She laughed, almost disbelieving. “Okay, fair.”

“You wrote ‘King of My Heart,’” he said, like it had just hit him all over again. “And ‘Enchanted’?”

“I wrote ‘Gorgeous’ the day I saw you helping Phoenix carry out takeout from that taco place,” she admitted.

Bob’s face turned completely red.

“But I also wrote ‘Lavender Haze’ the week you sat in the corner with me and brought me tea and snacks like I wasn’t being completely unhinged writing revenge anthems two feet from my ex-boyfriend.”

He looked down, a little smile ghosting his lips. “I just… wanted to be there for you.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You still are.”

Another beat. Another breath. Then he looked up, really looked at her.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime? Just us? No instruments. No lyrics.”

She nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Before either of them could say more, the door burst open with a rush of voices—Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, the whole crew barreling in laughing, shouting, hugging.

“You were incredible!” “Best concert of my life!” “Those songs—damn!”

She barely had time to glance at Bob, but when their eyes met across the room—when he gave her the softest, sweetest smile like he was still carrying her lyrics with him—it was enough.

Jake wasn’t there. Neither was she.

But Bob was. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

But none of that mattered.

“Ray,” she said, snapping her fingers gently as her ever-faithful bodyguard appeared at her side. “Can you bring Bob back here? The one in the glasses. Blue shirt. Sitting next to Phoenix.”

Ray didn’t even blink. “On it.”

What if I just made everything weird?

What if he didn’t get it?

What if he did?

A knock on the door.

She nearly tripped trying to get there first.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he answered, eyes flicking to the ground for just a second before finding hers again. “You wanted to see me?”

She closed the door behind him gently.

“I figured it was time I stopped hiding.”

Bob swallowed. “They were about me. Weren’t they?”

She didn’t answer with words. She just looked at him. And when he didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, didn’t deny—that was her answer, too.

“You were the only thing that kept me standing after… you know.”

Bob’s voice was soft. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t want you to. I didn’t think I could handle it if you didn’t feel the same way and then I’d ruin the one good thing I had left.”

He blinked slowly. And then—

“I don’t know how you expect someone to feel the same when they didn’t even know they were in the running.”

She laughed, almost disbelieving. “Okay, fair.”

“You wrote ‘King of My Heart,’” he said, like it had just hit him all over again. “And ‘Enchanted’?”

“I wrote ‘Gorgeous’ the day I saw you helping Phoenix carry out takeout from that taco place,” she admitted.

Bob’s face turned completely red.

He looked down, a little smile ghosting his lips. “I just… wanted to be there for you.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You still are.”

Another beat. Another breath. Then he looked up, really looked at her.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime? Just us? No instruments. No lyrics.”

She nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Before either of them could say more, the door burst open with a rush of voices—Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, the whole crew barreling in laughing, shouting, hugging.

“You were incredible!” “Best concert of my life!” “Those songs—damn!”

She barely had time to glance at Bob, but when their eyes met across the room—when he gave her the softest, sweetest smile like he was still carrying her lyrics with him—it was enough.

Jake wasn’t there. Neither was she.

But Bob was. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

The restaurant was one of the best in San Diego—rooftop view, mood lighting, and a private area already cleared out by the time the group rolled in. The Navy crew weren’t used to this kind of luxury. Cloth napkins. Candlelight. Plates that cost more than their monthly car payments.

But they were riding the high of the concert, and their girl—America’s sweetheart with a platinum voice and a heart like steel—had just done the unthinkable.

“Y/N paid for everything,” Phoenix whispered to Fanboy as they were seated. “Even pre-paid the tip.”

“Wait—like for all of us?” he whispered back.

“All. Of. Us.”

“What kind of money is this?”

“Taylor Swift money,” Rooster muttered as he eased into his seat.

She just smiled as they all settled into the massive circular table. Bob ended up across from her—not by accident. He’d chosen the furthest open seat from hers, trying not to make anything look different. Trying to be respectful. Careful. Not because they had anything to hide.

But because he was now, finally, something she wanted to keep.

She caught his eye once, twice, as the waiters poured wine and passed appetizers. He smiled at her over his glass. She tucked her tongue into her cheek and looked away.

They were fine.

The others? Less so.

“So,” Hangman started, swirling his bourbon. “We all know the breakup songs were about me. I mean…” He gestured dramatically to his own face. “It’s not exactly hard to figure out.”

Payback muttered, “Can’t believe she let you live after ‘Mr. Perfectly Fine.’”

“Oh no, ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived’ was personal,” Rooster chimed in, snorting.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix groaned. “She dragged him to hell. And then resurrected him just to do it again.”

Hangman rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed but trying to look cool. “Whatever. I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He said it a little too loud, a little too sharp.

No one cared.

“What I wanna know,” Fanboy leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was telling a ghost story, “is who the love songs were about. Because ‘King of My Heart’? ‘Dress’? ‘Gorgeous’? Babe. Those were not written by a woman heartbroken. She was writing like she was in love.”

Everyone turned to her.

She blinked, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on,” Phoenix groaned. “You’re glowing. You’ve got that ‘I wrote a song about a boy and he doesn’t know it’ face.”

“I’m literally not glowing,” she said, sipping her wine. “It’s just the lighting.”

“You said ‘I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us, he’s in the room’!” Payback quoted. “Is he in the room?”

“Is he older?” Fanboy added.

She shrugged.

Bob, across the table, was silent—his eyes trained very steadily on his water glass. His cheeks were pink. His jaw was tight.

He knew. Or at least, he was starting to.

“I’m not telling,” she said simply, leaning back in her chair and letting the silence hang in the air like a smirk. “You’ll have to keep guessing.”

Hangman scoffed. “What, is it someone famous? Some actor?”

Rooster leaned over to Bob, voice low. “She’s definitely messing with us.”

Bob gave a polite laugh, nodded—but didn’t speak. Because he had no idea what would come out if he did.

And across the table, she met his eyes just once more.

Held it.

You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face…

The fans weren’t the only ones trying to figure it out anymore.

———

After four months and thirteen days of quiet dating, late-night studio runs, and secret smiles, it was time.

⸻

The Music Video

It dropped without warning:

—Rocketing chords join low piano keys—

Her voice begins soft, trembling with emotion:

“I, I just woke up from a dream

Where you and I had to say goodbye

And I don’t know what it all means

But since I survived, I realized

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow

Nobody’s promised tomorrow

So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night

Like it’s the last night”

One shot: her and Bob in bed. Bare feet. Early morning light. Soft laughter as she wakes him with a kiss.

—The chorus rises—

He’s there with her, hand in hers as they run through empty streets:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you

If the party was over

And our time on Earth was through

I’d wanna hold you just for a while

And die with a smile

If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you”

No CGI. No drama. Just two lovers lost to each other. The world could crumble—they didn’t care.

She takes over, voice shaking with feeling:

“Ooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream

I don’t even wanna do this anymore

’Cause you already know what you mean to me

And our love’s the only one worth fighting for”

They dance barefoot in the living room. His hand around her waist. Her head against his chest. It’s them, finally unmasked.

—Back to the chorus—

Overlapping vocals, echoing through candlelit tender moments:

“Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow

Nobody’s promised tomorrow

So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night”

—Bridge and final moments—

They kiss in front of a fire. Fade to black. Then:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you…

I’d wanna hold you just for a while

And die with a smile”

Last lines linger:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you

If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you”

When dawn broke, the internet died.

“THEY. WERE. DATING???”

“THAT’S BOB???”

“GORGEOUS WAS HIM ALL ALONG?”

Her phone buzzed nonstop as the Navy squad flooded her mentions with pride and disbelief. Jake didn’t comment. He didn’t show up.

Backstage, Bob pressed play on her phone. His eyes filled. He looked at her. Humbled. Nervous.

“You wrote that verse for me?” he whispered.

She nodded, stepping closer.

“Lost in the words that we scream…” she recited, voice soft.

“Our love’s the only one worth fighting for.” – Her eyes on his.

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you…” she finished, reaching for his hand.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I want the whole world to see how much I love you.”

She leaned in and kissed him.

No cameras. No scripts.

Just two people who risked everything—writing a love story that nobody saw coming.

———

The premiere was for a gritty indie-meets-blockbuster war drama. She had a supporting role—a fierce, grounded medic with three pivotal scenes and one unforgettable monologue. Critics were already calling it her “breakout screen moment,” but all anyone could talk about wasn’t the film.

It was who she brought.

Because when she stepped onto the carpet, Bob Floyd was right there beside her.

Not trailing. Not lingering like security.

Right there. Holding her hand.

He looked devastating in a custom navy suit that matched his eyes, glasses polished, curls soft and brushed back just enough to show off that boyish charm.

She wore black silk. A plunging neckline. Diamonds glinting on her ears. A classic Old Hollywood silhouette—but modernized, fierce. The press gasped. Cameras fired. And then—he looked at her.

He looked at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Like he still couldn’t believe she chose him.

—

A reporter tried to ask who her date was.

She just smiled and said,

“This is Bob. He’s… the reason behind most of the album.”

And that was it. Chaos.

—

Photo after photo:

• Her whispering something into his ear and him blushing like he’s never been on a carpet before.

• Bob wrapping his arm protectively around her waist as flashbulbs go off.

• Her laughing while he looks at her like she personally hung the moon.

• One shot where she looks dead at the camera, unbothered, but he is staring at her like she’s the only one in focus.

Twitter melted.

“Bob Floyd is the new standard.”

“He looks at her like she’s art.”

“Jake WHO? THIS is love.”

Even gossip blogs had to admit it.

“He watches her the way everyone deserves to be seen.”

“It’s clear: she wrote the breakup songs about Hangman, but the love songs—they were always Bob.”

—

When they got inside, she leaned into him in the plush theater seat and murmured,

“How you doing, Red Carpet King?”

Bob just shook his head, pink in the cheeks, and kissed her temple.

“I’m not used to all this,” he said quietly, “but I’d follow you into any storm.”

She smiled.

“Good,” she whispered back, “because this love story’s just getting started.”

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avifaunaa · 4 months ago

Text

these strange noises [ voices ] followed me here [ s.s.+n.s.] [ pt. 2 ]

Authors Note: 🤪

fun facts:

i have zero medical knowledge and the likelihood of this being extremely inaccurate is high!

i did a lot of research into medical practices and inner workings of being a medical professional to try and throw this together

i also watch grey's anatomy, that makes me an expert

any named people of importance in the hospital are made up for obvious reasons lmao

Shauna nat are married here. No i will not be taking questions.

Masterlist

PART ONE

Pairing: Dark!SoftNatalie x fem!reader x Dark!MeanShauna

Summary: It has been ten years since the rescue. Ten years since the trauma of a plane crash. Ten years. You’ve changed your name, moved as far away as you possibly could, and finished your degree and now find yourself in the last year fellowship of pediatric surgery. You’re fine. Until you’re not.

Content Warnings: Thick plot, sorry, Mentions of illness+injuries regarding children as R has become a pediatric surgeon + 1 detailed scene of surgery in which r is conversing with another doctor, r responds to an actual name because she changed it but not by S/N, Mean!Shauna, Soft!Natalie, angst, stalking, harassment, blackmail, EXTREMELY FUCKING DARK non-con, threats, degradation, praise, strap-on use [ r!r ], face slapping, spitting, cutting, hair-pulling, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, and some aftercare because jesus fucking christ.

Word Count: ~8.1k

Your forehead thumped against the steering wheel of your car as you closed your eyes. You were exhausted and you’d just had a day off — but it was time for your rounds and unfortunately, that meant the next few days of sleep would likely be done in the on-call room.

The cool San Diego breeze blew through your hair as you slammed the door shut and dropped the keys into your bag before dragging your way toward the looming building that was your second home — essentially.

Your phone chimed in your pocket and you pulled it out, hoping it wasn’t Clary asking you if you were there yet. She wanted to touch base on the research you were both working on as partners, but you didn’t want to admit to her that no, you hadn’t so much as touched it all weekend.

You almost failed out in your first year of fellowship — it was so much more difficult to have completed in one single year than all the years you had to complete for residency.

[ You also had five patients today, two of them with grave outlooks ]

If anything had taught you about looking death in the eye, it was crashing in the Canadian Wilderness and surviving for almost two years no matter the circumstances.

You could look these children in the eye and promise them you would absolutely do whatever it took to make them feel better. And pretend magic had everything to do with it.

It was their parents — their angry, grieving, begging parents — that you struggled with more. It was the same look when you watched the recordings your parents kept of the news and interviews about your plane going missing, the loss of hope after each one months after months.

With kids it was easy. They trusted you to do whatever you thought was best and felt like you were their imaginary savior of sorts — you would do whatever it took to take care of them.

But the adults had lost the magic, the endless hope, the seemingly open glee at hearing any slight good news.

It wasn’t Clary but rather, it was Jordan. She had become your closest friend — and your attending — during your fellowship. Forming close relationships with your mentors wasn’t inherently frowned upon as long as there could still be a clear line between professionalism and what usually existed on the other side of said line.

You were swift to get to the locker rooms to change into your scrubs and pristine white coat, saying hello to your other fellows and exchanging brief conversation.

None of them would ever wish to talk to you again if they knew who you were — what your real name was and what your experiences forced you to endure.

It matters little now. The only name you responded to and that was on any official documents to be found was the one you perfectly articulated for yourself when you burned away your past along with your dreams to work in Vancouver.

“Forceps,” Jordan demanded from your left, as the two of you stood over a patient lying on his side, a large incision opening from his ribs to his back. It was a mess and you hated that a fifteen year old had to experience it.

“You’re quiet today,” the older doctor commented once the tool was set in her hand and she went to work using it. Cancer, so built up that parts of his right lung had to go.

You kept still the drainage tube that allowed fluids to properly drain.

“I’m really tired,” you stated behind your mask, eyes moving toward the monitoring screen so you wouldn’t have to meet her eyes when she would glance at you. “It’s been a long month.”

And the anniversary for the crash is tomorrow.

But you couldn’t say that. Doing so would acknowledge a life that you had worked so endlessly to murder, bury, and run from so many years ago.

Your life was peacefully undisturbed and no signs of vengeance from your past was threatening to upturn what you’ve so carefully designed — you could only hope it stayed that way.

“Hmm,” Jordan murmured in the Jordan Way. You came to know it closely, intimately, when you started your fellowship under her scrutiny. She could smell lies like they were freshly baked bread and it made her extremely hard to go around.

Clary and you had lost rounds for a week when you had swapped patients simply because you didn’t like the other doctors you were paired with. Never again. You had both learned to play nice — “which you should have done as attendings,” she had snarled before stalking off.

But now she has fallen into her focused silence, working meticulously and removing the damaged section of lung on the patient. Nurses came and went with more sponging. You adjusted his position as needed if movement became an issue, and kept an eye on the muscle tearing done during the incision.

She snipped something and removed it carefully. It landed with a splat behind her on a medical container to be a properly disposed of.

“Clots?”

You did not move the tubing.

“No.”

“Good,” she said simply, and went back to work. You knew that while the focus was getting this surgery done, she was sniffing you out like a hound on a hare.

“He came out of the surgery well,” you told the thirty-eight year old woman four hours later, who trembled outside of her son’s recovery room where he lay sleeping now. “He’ll need to be monitored for any signs of clots or leaking from his lungs, but so far his outlook has become positive and he’s well on his way to being able to go back to soccer.”

Agnes trembled more and she collapsed into you, arms wrapping around you. You embraced her readily, having accepted this part of the job the most: the ability to take the overflow of emotions parents and family had nowhere else to put. In your residency, you had been desired by mentors for your bedside manner but it was always going to go to pediatrics.

“Thank you,” she murmured in your ear as her tear-soaked cheek pressed against yours in the hug. You rubbed her back, offering the comfort and shielding her from the part of you that ached and begged for sleep and food.

“It’s my pleasure. I will be back to check on him, but if you need anything feel free to ask the nurses okay?” You pulled back from the hug, squeezing her arms warmly and smiling as well.

Agnes nodded, thanking you tearfully once again as she stumbled to go see her son. You slid the door closed to allow her some quiet privacy to decompress — she was going to drop from that adrenaline soon.

You made your way to the nurses station where charts were already laid out for you. Your next patient was not going to wait for you to recover yourself, and you didn’t have a lunch for another four and a half hours.

It was the television, however, that stopped you in your tracks. The local news station was showing footage that was all too familiar and immediately induced a flight like sensation into your system.

You dig your fingers into the boxy clipboard as you stared at the overhead footage plastered to the screen of the remains of the crash from a year after. Your blood turned to ice in your veins and you froze like a deer in headlights.

The team had picked the plane apart to use what you could and many documentaries and news segments had commented on it when they went to seek out the wreckage and your camps after the rescue. You had family questioning you for months before you exited, stage left, and you had refused to discuss it.

“Tomorrow will mark ten years after the incredible rescue from Canadian forests of the university team, The Yellowjackets, one and a half years after they had been reported missing during their flight,” the reporter started, and the footage following flickered to the remains of the empty camp recorded post-rescue.

“Searches were initially held in the first five months where the flight path was said to have taken, but the crash was later found one hundred and fifty feet away from that official path. Investigators were unable to identify the exact cause of the crash.”

The reporter next to her leaned to glance at her. “Every time I hear the story, it never ceases to both amaze and sadden me,” he told his partner, shaking his head.

You wanted to claw his face off. It was all fake — he didn’t care, not really.

The woman nodded solemnly in agreement. Someone brushed your shoulder and something was said, but you did not pay attention as she continued, “Survivors have gone completely off-grid since their return home except, notably, for lawyer and currently running for State Senator Taissa Turner, who has not answered questions in regards to the crash.”

Photographs of all of you — the ones who made it — lined the screen. They weren’t recent and you were relieved that your deep burial had worked. All these photos were ones taken for the university website for the team a few months before the play season began.

Your eyes flickered to Shauna and Natalie’s photos, briefly, and you held your breath until they were gone. Even this long and you still acted off of your base instinct when any signs of them, be it a memory or a mention in media, cropped up.

“Doctor Landry.” You jerked back from the counter and your arm loosened on the clipboard holding your chart. The object fell with to the floor with a clatter and you startled further, rearing back and pressing your lower back into the counter.

“Woah, sorry.” It was a resident who often worked with Jordan and thus with you. His name often escaped you, but right now it wasn’t even a thought in your head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Must have been really into the chart, huh?”

You swallowed hard, fingers pressing carefully into the smooth countertops to ground yourself and tuned your ears to the sound of the hospital noises. For many, the hospital is chaotic, overwhelming, a cause of stress.

For you it brought comfort. The endless impact of sensations were a constant reminder of who and where you were now and you were able to keep yourself from truly having to dig too internally.

You breathed out and watched the resident bend down a little too eagerly to grab the chart for you and hold it out with a nervous smile. “Doctor Jordan sent me to be your resident for the rest of your rounds,” he said, sounding pleased.

You blinked at him and hated and loved Jordan in equal measures at this moment. You knew she was working on your teaching skills for when you completed your fellowship and had a license in full. You would eventually have your own fellows to train and residents to attend, but . . .

“Okay,” you started, “Larry.”

He frowned. “It’s Brewer.”

You slipped your tennis shoes back on once you changed back into your normal clothes — glad to feel something heavier against your skin other than scrubs but less constraining than your coat.

Clary — bright, energetic, a mass of light — blocked your exit from the locker room, hand gripping her bag as she grinned at you, ignoring your tired face. “Drinks?”

You glanced at your phone screen and squinted at the large 10:00 that flashed back at you. You’d just gotten off of the second of your monthly 24 hour shifts; you’d be on mostly day shifts and Jordan’s on-call schedule for surgeries the rest of the month.

A drink with Clary and then sleeping in wouldn’t hurt. You won’t be back until Wednesday.

“Okay,” you agree like you had a choice with her blocking your path. Her grin became softer and she nudged you as you exit together and discuss your shifts on your way out.

You went to a bar close to the beach that had outdoor seating. The night life was active despite being a weekday and you knew it was partially to do with spring break soon coming up.

You both ordered your usuals and you ran the heel of your palm across your face as you took in the scenery, trying to get the entire day out of your head.

“How’d your lung surgery go?” she asked when drinks were delivered. Your fingers wrapped around the chilled glass of your beverage and you took a sip.

"Exceptionally well, of course, when it comes to working with Jordan," you told her, raising your glass in a half-salute. "She's a master of her craft."

Clary arched a perfectly sculpted brow [ you would know, she's dragged you to her appointments more than once ] and released the loudest scoffs her small form could manage. "Bullshit. Yeah, she's amazing. But c'mon . . . you're being looked at to become a permanent surgeon here! Jordan sings you praises!"

"I assisted her on the lung surgery, Clary," you laughed, "That was all I was asked to do this time."

"But I'm trying to point out facts here, Darling." Clary did not continue without first taking another sip of her drink, with you following suit. The salty beach breeze drifted into the outdoor patio as the bustle increased from beach-goers seeking late night drinks and food. "There's rumors."

"Not rumors," you moaned, craning your head back and tight-lipping a smile from your face in amusement.

"I'm serious!" You felt the table shake as she leaned over to slap you on the arm.

"Watch the drink, psycho!" You reared back, careful not to spill and keeping your body parts off of the table in case she used friendly fire again.

"There's rumors, Landry," Clary repeated, dimpled cheeks flushed from the alcohol and giggles you two had shared. "That Sanchez is going to go to the Board after you complete your fellowship and that's why Jordan's been throwing all of her energy into you more than her other fellows."

You did not let that spark of hope in your chest ignite into a large bonfire. You were good at what you did and you knew it, but focusing on simply surviving this final year would be what earned that offer of any position from the hospital. Not dreaming of it.

You twirled your drink and hid your features as you tipped it to take a longer sip than the last.

"The kids like you," Clary continued as she flagged down the server for your table, her drink empty, "the nurses and attendings like you, Jordan's residents like you, hell -- the ER likes it when you come and take a load from them. Are you really stunned to silence?"

"No, Claire," you sighed, wanting her to shut up about it. You knew you were liked, you knew you had eyes on you, and while you knew what you were getting into when you stayed in your field after the Wilderness, you always had to remind yourself you did not have to keep looking over your shoulder from these particular eyes.

"Claire," the fellow chortled, flinging herself back dramatically in her high-seated chair. "Not the full name."

"Can we discuss something else before I end up having to use your last name, too?"

The way she puffed her cheeks out at you indicated that she wasn't completely finished hounding you, but she also seemed to understand you had drawn a line in the sand and was not going to cross it.

She waved her manicured hand at you, sparkly black nails glinting under the bright lighting of the tiki's and overhang fan-lights. "Ugh, fine. Keep your secrets."

You smiled at her. "I will."

Your discussion veered off into safer waters and you had gotten relaxed under the atmosphere. Chattering patrons and boisterous laughter replaced the bustle of hospital noise that soothed you constantly.

You and Clary turned your heads when a server that was not the one who had been supplying you both with drinks all night appeared with a tray, only one glass of your choice of drink aligned in the middle.

"Hi," he greeted politely, but rushed, as he sat the glass down in front of you, covering the two empty ones behind it. "A nice woman at the bar bought you this drink."

You stared at it as he swiped the two empty glasses and went for Clary's as well, leaving her third half-empty one for her to finish as the woman stared at you in shock, brow raised mischievously.

"Thank you," she said for you, eyes still on your stupefied form as the server vanished into the crowd. She smirked brightly, chin laying on her curled fist as she wiggled her brows at you. "Well, well, do we have a mystery admirer we should keep an eye out for?"

You did not touch the drink and shifted your gaze over Clary's shoulder toward the bar. It was packed with people waiting for drinks. All seats were taken but people crowded the areas between and behind it, too.

Nobody in particular stood out nor did you feel as though you were being watched. You wondered if you had grown extremely comfortable in this life to the point of no longer studying your surroundings well enough.

"See anyone?" Clary mused behind her glass, turning her upper body to help you look. "Jesus Christ, even though we know our mystery friend is a woman there's still to many to try to pull as our suspect." She swiveled back to you, looking more deflated than you.

You shrugged as you swept the area one more time, hoping you'd maybe find anything that would stick out. You picked up the glass and dropped the matter -- if your gift giver was too shy to reveal herself, then you'd just let her appreciate you enjoying her gift from afar.

"It's fine," you assure Clary, offering a tilted grin to soften the blow, "I'm too busy impressing the Board for mystery ladies, anyway."

Clary downed the rest of her drink.

Your sitter messaged you to let you know that she had left the key in the usual spot after walking Nibbles for the last time for the night. You dumped a generous tip into her Rover account and requested another drop by for your few work days that would be the busiest and snagged the key from your elderly neighbor's plant as you returned to your apartment.

You were buzzy and feeling more relaxed after going out for drinks with Clary. You did not do it extremely often -- but it was good for you to not stay locked away in your place every second you weren't at the hospital. You got stir crazy easy and after the crash, you did not like existing in a state of "just here" that signaled your brain that you were on survival mode.

Never again.

Your teacup yorkie, Nibbles, spun in circles in his ritualistic way by the front door as you entered and removed your shoes. He did this until he was dizzy and wobbled after you toward the couch.

"Was Penelope here today, my little mister man?" you crooned at him as he climbed up the couch and spun more circles in your lap. "I see. Did you see many things on your walks?"

He gave you kisses and sniffs.

Nibbles was your one indulgence in the destruction of your old self and rebirth of the new. You found him in a box as you were throwing your broken down boxes into the recycling after moving into your place. He was a tiny, scraggly, infested thing that reminded you of yourself ten years ago.

You took him in immediately and he's been your constant in the ever-changing busy world you'd fashioned for yourself. Ten years old and he was still ready for whatever you threw at him.

After saying proper hellos and dropping a frozen Kong at his feet to keep him busy while you got ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom and rubbed at your temples.

Your phone, muffled, buzzed insistently in the bag you tossed on the bed as you were undoing your jeans.

You ignored it and figured it was Clary spamming you with TikToks after doom-scrolling in the cab.

But the buzzing did not end. Clary sent you ten videos in two messages, usually, not one by one.

Your curiosity got the better of you and had you rotating yourself to the bed and shifting through your bag until your phone was in hand.

Unknown (12:54): You cut your hair. Unknown (12:54): you're so pretty to this day, baby Unknown (12:54): We're glad to see you still like the same drinks Unknown (12:55): You aren't dating that girl you're with are you? Unknown (12:55): we're really proud of you're accomplishments Unknown (12:55): It took us ten years, sweetheart. Ready to see what we can do with ten minutes? Unknown (12:57): We cannot wait to catch up with you. Hope your dog doesn't bite

A cold wave of soberness splashed over you as you read out each text message word by word then went back and reread them again.

You dropped the phone like it had burned a hole into your hand, curling your fingers to your chest as you stare at the object in horror. Your eyes darted around, paranoia starting to renter your system like a welcome friend that was old but well-known.

You shot across the bedroom and ripped the curtains over the windows, covering the view and made quick work of the ones in the living room as well. Nibbles had finished his Kong and followed you around, ears perked and fuzzy face mussed from cheese.

You backed away from the windows and swallowed dryly, trembling and paced circles around your entire apartment for a better part of an entire hour without any sign of disturbance.

You barely touched your phone but there were no other text messages coming in. You blocked the number and screenshotted the messages just in case before turning your phone off for the night and heading off to the bathroom to shower.

You dress quickly and don’t spend as much time on your skincare routine as you usually do. Your head was spinning with unfiltered energy and fears about those messages.

Nibbles is waiting in his spot on your bed with an expectant look as you pulled the covers out and slipped under. He immediately dove under to curl into your side and nestle into your warmth like a heat-seeking mini missile.

You flipped on the television and thumbed at the buttons without actually changing the channel that was already on from when you last had watched. Your mind was racing like a three-time winning race-horse.

There was no possible way it could be anyone on the team. While the reporters had been pretty correct in everyone going off grid, you had done more than that. You had wiped your name off the map.

So much had happened after the rescue anyways -- Natalie and Shauna had never really had the chance to regain control over their hold once going home and struggling to go back to normal had become all of your shared fight.

You hoped it was just some kids playing a prank on random phone numbers that they entered into their phones.

But even the likelihood of that was lower than your belief that your past was not going to come back to haunt you quicker than you'd left it behind.

The next day you kept busy with mundane tasks that ensured your thoughts were distracted. You went out somewhat early to grocery shop -- when you opened your refrigerator you had winced at the lack of food. It was time to brave that task again.

You armed Nibbles with some treats and the television to make sure he had company and went on your way, list made.

As the day dragged forth you could not help but feel a pit start to grow in your stomach. It was a feeling you had known well but had not felt to this degree for a very long time.

You tried to ignore it as best you could, but it did not seem to go away the closer to home you got.

You stood dead in front of your door, unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The bags you had gathered together in hand were slipping from how clammy your hands grew under the stress of the feeling.

Quietly you set your goods down and fished for your keys. Entered them into the lock . . .

. . . only to find that the door was not locked in the first place.

You took a step back bile beginning to claw its' way up from your stomach and into your mouth, threatening to spew all over the ground. You have never felt like an animal walking into a trap to this degree; not since the Wilderness.

You had to leave, you needed to get out of here, get somewhere where other people were and wait it out. Call the police --

The door opened.

And Shauna Fucking Shipman stood in your doorway like she lived there, your little dog pleased and panting happily in her arms.

"Hello, sweetheart," she chirped, lips curling upward into that trademark smirk that read trouble and danger in your eyes. "Didn't you get our texts?"

Our?

"W-What?" San Diego could get warm sometimes -- but the hallway was boiling lava to your skin right now. Revets of sweat trickled down your forehead and you stood stark still in front of her. "Shauna?"

"Hi, Landry," she purred, reaching out one of her arms and gesturing for you to come into your own apartment. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

You went to move forward past her and give her the widest of berths you could afford. She did not follow you closely but went to grab the bags that you had, in your shock, left in the hallway before following you.

You saw a figure on your sofa sprawled out like a cat that had claimed the nicest piece of furniture in the house. High-ankle combat boots, tight fitting black jeans, messy bleach blonde hair and an angular sleek face.

"Natalie," you blurt. She turns her head to you. She looked just like she did ten years ago in the Wilderness, but the bags under her eyes from the stress of trying to keep a bunch of people alive . . . that was gone. There was fresh life there.

Her eyes softened around the edges and she turned her body so she could face you. She had a gold band around her ring finger -- the only thing that truly stood out as very un-Nat like to you.

You tried not to stare at the band too long before moving your gaze back to her face. Her red lips were smiling, so unlike the sharp sneers Shauna doned and always so warm.

"Hey, baby," she husked. "You cut your hair."

You had few options now that they were somehow in your home; your safe space now made a den of danger.

So you offered to make them dinner with the haul you retrieved from the store. You did not know Shauna and Natalie as they were back when you were college students, and you wanted to never be the girl who had to do what she did to stay alive.

A dinner may keep you in a safe zone and give you time to think. They accepted -- but Shauna wanted to help. She plopped your traitorous dog onto Nat's lap and followed you into your small, open kitchen to unpack your groceries.

She had not changed much, either. She was still incredibly fit as though she never left the soccer life. Her hair was in wavy rings held back by a ponytail and some of her distinct freckles had faded into a softer dusting, but the predatory glitter was still very Shauna.

She also had a band around her ring finger; gold with a glittery diamond showing off.

"Pretty," you commented casually, nodding to the ring as you pulled out your cutting board and lay aside some lettuce, cucumber, onion, and tomatoes for a salad.

Shauna had a chicken breast that you had planned on saving for girl's night with Clary in her hands. She glanced at the ring, and she seemed to soften with fondness briefly. "Thank you. Nat chose well, don't you think?"

"Nat?" you could not hide your surprise if you tried, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline as you rolled the tomato between your hand and the cutting board, almost squeezing it flat. "Wow -- shit. Unexpected, but -- uhh -- congratulations." Shauna's nose wrinkled in a show of amusement. "Thank you. We married a couple of years after . . ." she trailed off, but her tone did not sound as though she hated discussing the past in the way you did.

"Oh." You chewed your lip. "Well, good for you guys."

Silence overtook the both of you as you started your respective roles in creating dinner. You couldn't help but be compared to those lions that take on gazelle and simply co-exist with them for days at a time before eating them or letting them go, in rarer cases.

You thumbed the hilt of the knife comfortingly and glanced slowly at Shauna. "How did you find me?"

Shauna was applying some sort of homemade rub that had a strong smell of spice onto the chicken. She let you sit in anticipation while she did this and while she washed her hands.

Finally, "Misty."

Fucking Misty Quigley. If you ever got your hands on her, you'll make her into a human experiment the likes which even the most cruel of humanity would gawk at.

"I was sure I made it clear I did not want to be found," you said flatly.

Shauna pressed some buttons on your oven. "We gave you long enough," she said like that answered every single question ever.

"This is why I burned bridges," you snapped, slicing the tomato thinner than intended, unlike the previous slices. "I created a life for myself here, Shauna. That girl from before the rescue died in the Wilderness."

Shauna was quiet as she waited for the oven to heat up; it was the type of quiet that was tense and displeased with a buildup that had no release system.

"I want," you continued when she said nothing else, "a quiet life. No Wilderness, no reminders of the crash, no existing parts of who I had to become in order to still know I was alive. I hated that girl so I created a woman I could stand being."

A hand brushed the back of your neck before grasping it. It was a natural reflex -- ten years old and still you melted into it like nothing had changed. The dull edges of her ring pressed into your skin like a hot brand.

"Natalie and I picked up our entire lives and moved down here," she confesses, ice coating the words she spoke, "after we gave you your fucking space and let you do whatever you needed to do. Did you really think you were truly ever out of our sights? That we let you go?"

Pinpricks of heat prodded at your eyes as she locked you in place, a hazy assault of unwelcome memories starting to rip apart scars that you had spent years treating and disguising.

"Why?"

Shauna pressed a lingering kiss behind your ear. "Because you have always been ours. Do you want to keep your career -- make sure the hard work put into this life-saving job of yours doesn't go away?"

You swallowed under her fingers. She felt it and laughed breathily. "I bet so. Be good for us. Your career isn't in our sights -- we just want the rest of you."

She released you just like that, backing away as the oven screamed out to alert it was heated up.

"Finish the salad and set the table," Shauna orders like she did not just blackmail you, "Then go sit with Nat."

Nat did not make you talk much until you were both called to the table to eat. Three portions of the meal were set out and as clanking of silverware dominated the silence next to the heavy panting of Nibbles begging at your feet, you could feel Nat and Shauna watching your movements.

"We've read some of your research," Nat commented as she drank from the glass of wine. The bottle Shauna had found was half opened in your fridge, cheap but she poured three glasses anyway. "You have a lot of passion for pediatrics."

You picked at your chicken. It was extremely tender and images of Shauna swinging the butcher's knife and delivering the fate through your meals every day for a year came back like a slap to the face.

Shauna was staring, fork struck into her slice of chicken as she waited for a response from you. "Yeah," you murmured. "Working with the kids is why I stayed in pediatrics. But that's why a lot of people in that branch stay."

"Isn't it sad?" Shauna asked, surprising you, "For the ones that don't make it?"

"Absolutely," you affirm. "But it is the ones that we lose that make me want to make sure that we save the ones we can while working endlessly to search for ways to try prevent losses like those."

Something ruminating crossed over the brunette's features and Nat nudged your foot with her own under the table. "That's great, sweetheart. You're doing so much good."

You hoped so, but you did not express it out loud. You did not want to give into them like this -- stalking you, barging into your home, sitting at the fucking table to share a meal with you like you were just old friends.

"So you moved to San Diego?" you asked awkwardly, avoiding wording that indicates you would encourage any actions they took being for you.

"A month ago," Nat confirmed. "We got a house in La Jolla that's about a fifteen minute walk to the beach. I think you'd love it."

"Mm, well good for you guys." You lifted your wine glass awkwardly and then took a sip.

Dinner was continued with conversation mostly brought up by Nat and Shauna -- both of them knowing full well you were likely receding in on yourself like you used to.

"Well," you started when the kitchen was cleaned and wine was finished, "it was nice catching up . . . but . . ."

Shauna smiled a little in such an unsettling way that you had to resist the urge to take a step back. She had her fingers lazily hooked into the pockets of her pants, regarding you like a fine piece of artwork.

"Nat."

Hands slithered under your shirt from behind, long fingers tapping along your stomach while Shauna circled the both of you with little hurry.

“Stop,” you instantly said as your hands flew up to snatch her hands away from your skin. You’ve had a compromised enjoyment of touch after the crash — this was no exception. This was the reason for it.

“No,” Shauna said simply in a drawl, familiarity coating it like a thick and angry thing.

You kept a tight, iron grip on Nat’s smooth, but calloused hands until Shauna stalked toward and lashed out.

It was so quick and the sting on your skin was there before your brain caught up to what had just occurred. Shauna had hit you, open-palmed, across the cheek with a force that promised worse.

She wasn’t done. She snatched your throat in cold fingers, pressing down just so on the points of pressure that would cut off your air way as she forces your face to lean up to gaze at her, smiling at whatever she found on your face.

“Be a good slut,” she started, nails digging grooves into your skin as she applied more pressure, “and do as we say. Nod if you understand, you fucking useless whore.”

You broke into tears but the nod followed behind quickly, your neck hardly moving under her piercing hold. She kept you there for a bit longer anyways, seeming to enjoy the way she made you cry.

“Shauna,” Nat cooed behind you as she managed to untangle her hands from yours, having noted the weakened grip. Her palms returned to rubbing up and down your chest and stomach almost soothingly. “Couldn’t you be nicer? It’s been a while.”

“Exactly,” Shauna said coldly, even as her fingers released some of the tension. A throbbing began to flow underneath the heat of her fingers where she had made her claim.

She had ensured you would feel her fingers even when she released your neck, later.

“Remember your place, baby,” Shauna told you, jaw clenching. “You’re extremely smart so you and I both know it’s not been lost on you.”

Nat’s teeth began scraping softly down the backside of your collarbone, creating a shiver through your spine as her hands worked under your bra. “She can be so mean, can’t she?” Nat whispered conspiratorially, nipping at the edge of the bone before moving along your shoulder.

Shauna wasn’t looking at you now, but just a little to the side. Where Nat’s head rested as she sucked bruises into your skin. The sight of them like this — the disgusting, reviving part of you — jolted at it.

Your thighs twitched in effort to conceal your need to cross them. You were so fucking wet.

Shauna notices the movement despite looking zeroed in on her wife’s devoted attentions, her gaze flickering to how your legs trembled with effort. You were only being held up by Nat’s hold and Shauna’s barely-there position on your throat.

“You act as though you built a fortress around this . . .” She rolled her eyes, “new personified version of yourself. But I can see the weaknesses in the walls, baby. You’re still the same beast under the new name and new life. Just like us.”

It was a truth that you had denied so long — and Shauna speaking it aloud had you ripping your body away with such brute force that even Nat couldn’t stop it in time. You stumbled clumsily backward toward your bedroom, air conditioning hitting your raw cheeks and drying the tears.

“Get out,” you demand, voice shaking and near begging. “Please leave me alone. It’s too much.”

But they didn’t leave — they followed you deeper into your space, cornering you into the bedroom as Shauna bundled her fist into the front of your shirt and roughly pushed you toward the bed under the back of your knees gave way.

She climbed on top of you as Nat padded around, looking through your items and opening drawers. So many violations overwhelming you in one instance. You shoved at Shauna’s arms but her face twisted and she grasped them, pinning them above you as she used her knees to pry open your thighs as wide as your body would allow.

You cried out. “Stop! Stop it!”

“Shut up.” She spat, purposefully watching as droplets of saliva spread across your face. Her eyes glinted ferally, like this was some form of marking that seeped into your skin and your blood.

“Nat what the fuck are you looking for? Get the fuck over here,” Shauna snapped, frustrated at her wife’s shifting around through your belongings.

Natalie did not answer at first — which you thought was extremely bold of her when Shauna was in a mood like this — but then she popped out of your closet with your six inch dildo.

Your eyes widened and so did Shauna’s. Her grip then became shackles to your wrists. “Oh, my little slut,” she murmured, eyes drifting back to you as Nat came over.

The blonde looked too proud of herself for your liking. “Is it a strapless?” Shauna demanded, but not to you. You weren’t a who to them right now.

“Looks to be,” Nat said, inspecting it closely. She smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure she’s gentle.”

Shauna scoffed as Nat went to work undressing her wife so that you would have no chance of escaping. If Shauna had to lift a limb from you, Nat somehow found a way to use one of hers to keep you in place. It was a slow process and you were crawling out of your skin. No amount of effort worked in your favor.

“Your turn, precious,” Nat murmured as she watched from above your head as Shauna inserts one of the ends of the dildo into her self. Your mind blanks out as you beg for them to let you go.

Somehow you’re naked. How did you get naked?

Your clothes were ripped away, it seemed.

Natalie ran fingers through your hair, talking to you in what she hoped to have been a soothing tone. It grated against your ear drums as Shauna’s hands ran along your body as she lifted herself over you. Her eyes darkened, locked with yours.

Then she thrusted hard into you — she did not go gently, nor did she check how wet you were. Thankfully your body had betrayed you as it always had with them — and though you were unprepared for the size of the dildo [ it had been a gift from Clary as a gag, unused and collecting dust ], it slid in.

It was painful and you sobbed out as Shauna’s shackled embrace loosened enough for your hands to fly up and dig into her bare back. She did not allow adjustment — this was not going to be a sweet fucking.

“You’re a fucking slut, you know?” the brunette whispered, her voice shakier than you’ve ever heard her. She was starting at a punishing pace — and you feared what that meant for when she was close to her orgasm. “You claim to not want us, you fucking hate us, but here you are wet as can be and taking me like a goddamn whore.”

You choked on words that never came to fruition, sobs replacing them instead as pain and something close to pleasure intertwined as she fucked you, hips angling in a way that told you she was seeking both her pleasure and something else in the process.

Nat was watching, but her clothes stayed on as she did. “You’re doing so well, baby,” she told you gently, keeping your head in her lap as you took what Shauna gave, “You’re so pretty like this. Oh, your eyes. They’re turning fuzzy.”

“That’s what happens,” Shauna breathed out, a hand spearing out to press flat into the mattress next to your head. She paused her brutality, deep inside you, and adjusted.

Her chest was heaving and she looked nothing short of animalistic as she looked you in the eye. You tried to focus on her face, but so many sensations were overworking you. She was taking you apart piece by piece and throwing your crafted shield away.

“I’m going to wreck you,” she promised, and followed it up with a brutal thrust that landed perfectly into your g-spot as though —

She did remember your body. Too well. You sobbed as your nails ran deeply down her skin. Her other hand freed you, feeling confident that you no longer had the power to make an attempt to escape.

She lifted her body enough, body to reveal the space between your stomachs. With the diamond glinting along her hand, she twisted the ring further up her finger.

“Shauna,” Nat warned, tinged with concern. Your eyes lazily drifted to her face, and you saw her shaking her head.

Shauna ignored her wife and pressed the sharp edges of the diamond into your skin and began to cut. It wasn’t a slow process and you yelled out, now trying to escape her hold.

“H-hurts,” you sobbed as the dildo pressed deeper into you and had you seeing stars. Her thrusting was in tune with the way she cut deep marks into your skin, creating some design.

Warm blood trickled down your stomach as she pulled the reddened ring away. It was a a beautiful diamond — even soaked in your blood and she lifted her finger to her mouth to clean it as she used her other hand to reach down to your clit.

Holding herself up by the cock inside of you and the rolling of your hips, she pressed so deep and hard on your clit that your body didn’t have a chance to process before locking up.

Nat held you through the most intense orgasm of your life, and her hand came down to gently rest across your mouth and muffle the throat tearing screams that it encouraged.

Shauna’s orgasm was not far behind, her chest falling on top of you and her thrusts increasing tenfold. She did not allow you to recover for a second — and before she managed to reach her own peak, she sent you hurtling into three more.

Your brain emptied as your body tried to accept the mirrored pain and pleasure that became your life. Nothing else made sense in your world at the moment, but Nat was pressing soft kisses against wet skin, Shauna was gasping and running her cheek across yours as she shook through waves of her own high, and your entire being was becoming reborn.

The three of you remained like this for a while, aftershocks waving through you as your walls clenched the dildo in deeper. Shauna forced out a breath each time it happened, but otherwise made no comment.

You felt disgusting in the aftermath. Emotions that you never really faced were beginning to surface in Shauna and Natalie’s ultimate destruction of your coverup, and you had no way to defend yourself from them.

“It’s okay,” Nat whispered for the nth time that night, trying to encourage a belief in the statement. She had shifted her position so she was lying on her side behind your head. You could hear her heartbeat — calm and rhythmic.

It was a strange comfort in the upheaval of your carefully planted existence.

Shauna lifted her chin from your shoulder and moved her hand. She didn’t pause, even when you flinched at her movement, but she was surprisingly very gentle as her fingers wiped at the fresh tears.

“You did so well,” her low voice rasped, and she sounded honest. Pleased. Proud. “You took it all so beautifully.”

You didn’t know what to say. She didn’t seem to mind. She moved her body down, shifting the dildo inside of you and sending a shiver through your body.

“Hurts,” you whispered when she sent you a questioning brow raise.

Shauna nodded, “Okay, sweetheart. Let me pull out and check the cut. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a little brave?”

Did you have any other option?

Natalie ran her fingers across your sweat soaked arms. “I’ve got you,” she promises, “We both do.”

Taking that as your consent where it wasn’t, Shauna slowly began pulling out. You instinctively locked up, your knees curling in, but Shauna stopped them and kept slowly moving until it was completely out. It was soaked heavily with your juices.

She pulled the other end out of herself and tossed it to the floor.

“Nibbles will get it,” you whispered disapprovingly. “Not on the floor.”

Shauna rolled her eyes, hard, but detangled herself from your body and grabbed the dildo and took it off into the bathroom — where she stayed for a longer time than expected.

When she returned she had a damp, warm rag in hand and her hair was in a messy bun, flannel the only thing she wore. She kneeled down over you again and slowly began wiping you down, working her way up. She got to the cut in your skin and was slow in her care of it.

“Do you have any thing we can put on this?” she murmured to you.

“Cabinet,” you whispered.

As Shauna once more left to go in search for the cream, you lifted your head to peer down at the engraving she had carved into your skin with her ring:

S.S.+N.S.

#shaunanat x reader #shauna shipman x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #dark fic #the yellowjackets #yellowjackets #fanfiction

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