#amelia benjamin (mentioned)

[pollyna]

Our love is six feet under and I can't help but wonder.

Penny is gorgeous and her perfume fills his nose most of the time when she is around. He likes that of her, too. He likes that she asks him out, after the fourth time they sleep together after the mission. They're eating breakfast and Amelia is complaining about school and Bradley is texting because he forgot his keys and now he can't get back home and he's a little sweaty so can I come over dad? Please, if I go out like this Nat will kill me, we have a brunch with Halo!

Penny passes him coffee and we should go out on a date and Pete smiles at her and kiss her cheek before leaving for work. Let's go to see a movie, maybe tonight? he proposes and Just if you can find a babysitter for Amelia! The kid screams the most indignant Mom!, but the rest of the conversation is lost in the rumble of his bike.

It takes a while, but than the realisation hits him in the chest, six months after they start going out. They're waiting for their order in a restaurant he doesn't remember the name but Penny loves and she is talking about Amelia, the bar, her boat and the trip they should take once Pete has leave. Than she says something funny about Pete learning to drive a boat and hoping he's going to treat it gentler than he does with jets and a younger version of Tom is sitting in front of him. It's a diner, not a fancy restaurant, and the place doesn't even have tablecloths, just napkins and menus. Tom is talking about Bradley, about his new work and the jet they're building. Pete is thirty five and he just proposed to see a movie after. And he's going to ask Ice to move for the weekend to help with Bradley and he will say yes, soft smiles and an hand on his shoulder. Mav is going to lie on the his bed, that night and every night after that, his heart lighter than it was before.

Then it never stops: he takes Penny out to do something and he realises he asked Tom to do that before and they weren't even dating. Pete never even considered dating Tom. Until he does and it's devastating because he can't stop thinking about it. He is in the office, in his house, at Penny's and at Bradley's and Tom is there and he's there too, younger, stupider, happier and they're together, hands almost touching and heads always searching the other. His heart aches for all the empty spaces Ice used to fill, with his laugh, his voice, his presence. Over a beer he realises he never took away Tom's dogtags from around his neck and before falling asleep, after a dinner with all the squadron, he realises that he was blind for so so long and now Tom is gone and he has all this love to give to him and he can't. He doesn't say it out loud the next morning but on a Saturday afternoon he falls on his knees in front of Tom's tombstone and whispers I love you and it's a choked sound, a desperate empty scream that won't leave his throat because they're empty world and no ears will catch them. I love you, he repeats, I loved you for so long and I will love you until I stop breathing. I'm sorry To-I'm so fucking sorry.

He stumbles over Tom's house and in his bedroom and probably Sarah helped him there but all around him is fuzzy and he wants just ti wake up back in the ninetees and hug Tom once more, wants to hear his voice and his heart beating under his ear. He wants him to be alive because life can't be that cruel, not again. He dreams of strong arms around his waist and sleepy talks before breakfast and of a promise no one of them respected.

I will always be on your wing, Mav. Until death does us apart and even after, Iceman.

[icanfixhimclub]

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 || 𝐽𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑛

Pairings: Jake Seresin x F!oc

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and SA, violence, swearing

Summary: Everyone joined the military for a reason, after a night that reminds her of why, Y/n explains he reason

A/n: honestly I just wrote this on a whim, it’s like 2 am right now and I just wanted to post something for you guys

Everyone joined the military for a reason. Whether it was for the benefits, for the experience, or just for fun. There was millions of reasons, and everyone joined for one of them. Unfortunately, yours wasn’t as ‘noble’ as some of the others.

The whole crew sat around in the Hard Deck, keeping themselves busy with anything. It was a pretty calm and empty Monday night, a few regulars, some other pilots and just some stragglers. Amelia was sitting at the bar doing her homework in a pretty hidden of area, you wouldn’t see her unless you were paying close attention. Slow nights like this, Penny would let Amelia kind of just sit around so she wasn’t home alone.

You were sat contently talking to Phoenix and admiring the great view of your boyfriends ass as he bent over the pool table to like up his shot. “Nice ass, Hangman!” You called playfully, whistling as Phoenix hit your shoulder.

“Good thing it’s all yours baby.” He called back, taking his shot with a thud as the 2 ball went in. He came over with a grin and gave you a short kiss on the lips that you happily accepted. As he walked away, Phoenix re-grabbed you attention,

“Y’know, sometimes I think you only joined the navy for the hot guys.” You swallowed, you hated talking about why you joined, it was a sore subject that only two people knew about, the two people, Bob and Rooster, glancing in your direction as she said that. Bob had knew because you grew up together, and you had told him why when you told him you signed up. Rooster knew because you had let it slip to him one night when you two were goofing off and drinking on the beach.

“Mhm, that’s exactly why. What about you?” You sarcasm was evident as you sipped your drink.

“Runs in the family.” She stated in matter-of-fact way. This sparked up everyone to go around and share their reasons. Family line, breaking the circle, lots of things. “Alright, now spill, what’s the real reason?” Phoenix asked as it circled back to you.

You hesitated, “I’m gonna grab another drink first.” You got up abruptly as Bob and Rooster shared a glance. You waited patiently at the bar as Penny made small talk with a friendly regular and let your eyes wander. You landed on Amelia looking very uncomfortable. Standing by her was a man, maybe mid 30’s, trying to talk to her and coax her to come with him.

Your eyes narrowed and you slowly got up. You made your way towards them, but the second he put his hands on her, you broke into a run. “Hey! Get your fucking hands off her!” Your yell sparked everyone’s attention as you grabbed the guys shoulder and yanked him backwards, landing a hard punch to his nose when he turned to face you. He fell back, hitting the wall,

“You just broke my fucking nose!”

“Good, now get the fuck out before I do worse.” He stood back up and puffed out his chest to make himself look bigger. By now, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix and Coyote were making their way towards you to help.

You matched his stance, challenging him to make a move. He did, stupidly, and threw his arm into a punch. You dodged it easily and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down to knee him in the chest. He let out a loud yell and fell back to the ground. Your pupils were blown out and your face was red. Nobody at the bar was used to you being this angry.

“Get. The fuck. Out.” Your words were laced with venom and hatred that shook everyone to their core. Coyote and Rooster grabbed the dudes arms and dragged him outside as Bob went to check on Amelia, Phoenix and Hangman immediately at your side.

“Y/c/s holy shit, are you ok?” Natasha asked as Hangman grabbed your knuckles to examine them and stop you digging you nails any further into your palm.

You tried to calm your breathing, “I’m ok Tash, is Amelia ok?”

“Bobs checking on her right now, she looks ok.” You eased up at that, your muscles relaxed and you let out a sigh of relief as Bob and Amelia came over. She wrapped you in a tighter hug and you hugged her just as hard.

You pulled back slightly to examine her, “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” You wiped the tears from her eyes as she shook her head no and pulled her in again. You looked up and met Bobs eyes.

“Y/n,” he started, “You need to tell them, they’re your closest friends.” Hangman and Phoenix gave Bob a strange look as you looked down, knowing he was right.

“You asked my why I joined the navy earlier,” you paused to look between them, “I joined to protect my sister. Our dad…our dad used to beat me and repeatedly sexually assault me. My sister was born when I was thirteen, and the idea that he would ever hurt her terrified me. When my mom finally left him, I was terrified he would come back for her, so at the first chance I could, I joined the military. We lived near the ocean, so I figured the Navy was my best bet.

I figured that if I knew how to protect myself, then if I ever had to, I could protect them too, and seeing that guy by Amelia, just set me off since she isn’t much younger than my sister. Although, the guy got it much better than I would’ve dished it to my dad. Everyday, I’m waiting for the horrible call from my mom or sister that my dad came back, and something happened to them. It haunts me every night.”

Amelia hugged you tighter after your confession and Hangman just stared at you in awe. He had had a small feeling in his heart lately, a feeling that made him think he loved you. Loved your witty comebacks, your need to protect everyone and how you always had a way to make him feel better, but this? This solidified it.

“Y/n, I…” Phoenix trailed off, “I’m so sorry.” She pulled you into a hug too and squeezed you tight. You hugged back, thankful for the comfort. Your gaze trailed to Jake, his eyes filled with an unrecognized emotion. When Natasha pulled away, Hangman stepped up, cradling your face in his hands, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll break you.

Your hands gripped his wrists as he stared into your eyes and whispered three little words, “I love you.”

Your heart stopped and your breathe hitched. Tears that were welling in your eyes were now falling and he wiped them away. “I love you too.” Your voice was so soft that he almost didn’t catch it. He smiled, a genuine smile, and leaned down to gently kiss your lips as if you were made of the most fragile glass. It spoke words that neither of you knew how to say. When you pulled away, his forehead was rested softly on yours.

You looked around to notice that Phoenix and Bob had moved to a different part of the bar to let you two share your intimate moment. “Can we just go home?”

“Of course Darlin’.” Hangman kissed your temple and you two began the walk to the doors. Penny waved you to and sent you a small and a pitiful smile as you left, holding Jakes hand like you depended on it. The ride home and into your shared house was in comfortable silence that Hangman could tell you need. You went through the motions of both your nightly routines until you both laid down in bed together.

Your head was rested in Jakes chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. “I love you Jake.” Hangman never thought that four little words would make him so happy, but finally hearing them leave you mouth, he felt like the happiest man alive.

“I love you more, Y/n.” He kissed you goodnight and you both were quickly washed over with well deserved sleep.

[thelunarbar]

I Wanna Know What It’s Like(On The Inside Of Love)

In which: they somehow happen to all be back in Miramar at the same time. And they’re not about to let the opportunity pass them by.

Word count: 2603

Playlist!

-/-/-/-

“I know it’s been less than a year, but it feels like it’s been so much longer than that.” Phoenix states, leaning back, hands in the sand. Murmurs of agreement mingle in the air. Beer bottles and soda cans are scattered around their little party, as well as the remains of the fixings for hotdogs and s’mores. The sun is starting to set, melting into the ocean and washing the sky in a brilliant blush. The fire is cracking and popping happily.

“Every time I have shore leave I kinda don’t wanna go back.” Payback says, slouching down more in his folding lawn chair. “But at the same time I need to be back in the air.”

“It’s an addiction.” Maverick replies. He watches the fire intently, a can of ginger ale held loosely in his hand. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to join them. He’d protested, making comments about how they wouldn’t want an old man bringing them down, and how he had to get up early. All bullshit. And when he’d been called on it, he really couldn’t come up with anymore arguments. So there he sits, in front of Rooster’s folding lawn chair, pant legs rolled up, bare feet buried in the sand. “Once you get a taste you can’t go back.”

“It’s a never ending internal battle.” Halo pipes up. “When you’re up there,” she gazes up at the sky. Stars are starting to become visible and the moon is almost full. “You’re always thinking about the things you’re missing down below. But when you’re down here all you can think about is getting back in a plane.” She sighs contentedly, still gazing upward. From his chair behind her, Omaha rests a hand on top of her head. She turns to look at him and smiles.

“Being free.” Omaha adds.

“Y’all are getting a bit too sentimental for my tastes.” Hangman stands and dusts the sand off his pants.

“So you’re leaving?” Rooster asks, “very mature response.”

“Actually,” Hangman drawls, leaning down so he’s nose to nose with Rooster and practically on top of Mav. “I’m going to grab something from my car.” And then he walks off.

“Hand me another beer?” Harvard asks, tipping his chair to side in an effort to reach the cooler sitting between Rooster and Bob’s chairs.

“Why didn’t we bring any water?” Bob asks as he hands Harvard another bottle. Harvard reaches a little too far and topples over onto Fanboy, kicking Yale in the process.

“Y’know I don’t think you really need another one.” Yale snarks while rubbing the spot Harvard had kicked. Harvard rights his chair and drops back into before sticking his tongue out at Yale.

“Alright.” Hangman drops back onto the sand beside Mav and in front of Coyote, a guitar held in his hands. A few cheers and whistles greet him. He plucks the strings, adjusts the tuning pegs and plucks again. He repeats this process several times before he’s satisfied. “What am I playing first?” He glances at Rooster, who shoots him a grin. “I already told you no.” Rooster just keeps grinning, undeterred by Hangman’s response. “Fine. But you owe me.” Rooster laughs and pushes his aviators up. Hangman plucks a couple strings and looks at Rooster. “One, two, three.” And he begins to play. Mav can’t help the snort when he realizes why Hangman said no to begin with. Rooster begins to sing.

“On a warm summers evening. On a train bound for nowhere.”

Rooster certainly has the voice for it though. Rich and resonant. Hangman grins despite himself. The songs ends and everyone cheers.

“Bradshaw, we should do Long Time Gone.” Phoenix says, sitting up straighter.

“I don’t think I know that one.” Hangman tells her while plucking idly at the strings.

“I do.” Rooster holds his hand out expectantly. Hangman squints at him for moment before handing the guitar over, nearly whacking Mav in the head. Rooster adjust the guitar in his lap and starts to play. He and Phoenix start to sing, voices overlapping perfectly. When the first verse ends Rooster let’s Phoenix go on alone for the next one. Joining her again when the chorus hits.

“I’ll be a long time gone.”

It’s a nice song, even if somewhat sad. Mav smiles as he listens, catches Phoenix grinning as she reaches up and lets Bob take her hand.

“Yes, when I leave. I’ll be a long time gone.”

They finish and cheers rise up around them. Bob kisses the back of Phoenix’s hand and Mav almost certain she blushes.

“Hey!” Amelia bounces over and drops down beside Maverick. “That sounded amazing, guys.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Rooster ruffles her hair and she scowls up at him. He just grins and pushes his aviators up.

“Wearing sunglasses at night isn’t cool.” Amelia informs him. “You just look stupid.” Rooster sticks his tongue out and pushes against Amelia’s head in a playful manner, but does remove his aviators.

“Ooh. Yes!” Hangman chuckles, “fuck Rooster! I love it.” He puts his fist out and Amelia bumps hers against it. Hangman takes the guitar back and plucks a tune. He struggles through the first few lines of the song before it starts to come naturally.

“Wherever we are is where I wanna be, and honey for once in our life let’s take our chances and roll the dice.”

Rooster sincerely hopes no one can tell he’s blushing. Hangman shoots him a smile and winks. Rooster smiles, downing the last of his beer. There’s a warm feeling in his chest and he can’t determine if it’s from the alcohol or Hangman practically serenading him.

Halo joins Hangman towards the end. While their voices don’t meld the way Phoenix and Rooster’s did they still sound nice. More applause when the song ends.

Bob offers Amelia a can of root beer, which she accepts and pops open, taking a drink. Then she looks over at Hangman.

“Play a song for me?” She asks in her sweetest voice.

“Depends on what you request?”

“Can you play something by Taylor Swift?” Her request is met by a couple of groans. Hangman smiles in a way reserved only for little sisters who make requests you don’t like, but that you’ll follow through anyway. Even though Amelia isn’t his sister she may as well have been. Hangman hums to himself and plucks at the strings trying to figure out the song. Amelia gasps, excitement evident in on her face.

“I love this song.” She starts to sing. She’s got a beautiful voice and Mav can’t help but smile as he watches her sway gently while she sings, eyes closed and smiling the whole time. God, he loves that kid like she’s his own.

By the time the chorus comes around both Halo and Fanboy are singing with her.

“On a Wednesday in cafe I watched it begin again.”

Towards the middle of the song Payback and Harvard pull their phones out and turn the flashlights so they can wave them in the air while Amelia, Halo and Fanboy keep singing.

The song ends and everyone cheers. Amelia goes pink in the face and smiles shyly. Mav pulls her into a one armed hug and presses a kiss to her temple.

“That was beautiful, kiddo.” She grins at him.

“Thanks.” She says softly. Mav doesn’t let her go, she doesn’t try to get away.

After that the guitar gets passed around to anyone who can and wants to play. There’s interesting assortment of songs played due to the diverse musical likes of their group.

Yale plays a couple songs Mav doesn’t recognize. He’s a surprisingly smooth tenor that’s very pleasant listen to. After that Payback requests a Willie Nelson song followed by Harvard requesting Patience by Guns ‘n’ Roses. Rooster plays a couple Tom Petty songs before playing Country Roads by John Denver at the request of Omaha. Everyone sings that one and Landslide when Fritz plays it a bit shakily. Coyote plays a somewhat sad song about loving someone much you’ll follow them even to death. Hangman takes it back and plays some older classics that Mava actually knows and he finds himself humming along.

“Hey!” Amelia says when Jake finishes I’ll Follow The Sun. “Mav hasn’t picked a song yet.” Mav groans internally as all eyes turn to him.

“She’s right. Make a request Mav.” Hangman says. “I’m sure someone here can play something for you.” Mav wants to protest, but Amelia gives him her best puppy dog eyes and Rooster nudges him with his toe and Mav can’t say no to his kids.

“D’you know Wild Horses by the Stones?” He asks. Hangman grins.

“You got it, Pops.” He begins to pluck at the strings. Mav takes a deep breath and hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels before he starts to sing. He’s never been the best singer, but if he knows the song well he’ll give it his all. All eyes are on him and he doesn’t know where to look. He settles his gaze on the fire, gaining more confidence in his voice when he reaches the chorus. He squeezes Amelia a little tighter and hopes she understands. Hopes Rooster knows.

The song ends and cheers erupt around him. If he wasn’t blushing before he definitely is now. Rooster gives his shoulder a squeeze and when Mav looks up he says, “that was great.” And Mav can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows. Knows everything Mav can never find the words to say.

The guitar gets passed around again. They all sing a laughter filled version of Sweet Caroline followed by a couple Elton John songs and more John Denver. They’re all at least suitably tipsy, with a select few having stayed sober enough to drive others home, and the fire is starting to die out, but no one wants to leave yet. Eventually the guitar ends up back in Rooster’s lap and he begins to play a country song Mav doesn’t recognize. When the chorus hits Phoenix joins him and Mav is in awe again at how beautiful the two sound together.

“You don’t wanna fall in love.”

Mav looks up to watch Rooster and doesn’t miss the longing look he’s giving Hangman. Hopefully one of them will stop being stupid and they’ll deal with whatever’s going on between them. And if they don’t do it soon Mav may have to bang their heads together and tell them to get their shit together. He doesn’t want it to come to that.

The last notes of the song get tugged away by the breeze and Mav becomes aware of how cool it’s gotten. Everyone cheers again, but in a somewhat more subdued manner now that they’re starting to get tired. They sit in comfortable silence, but with their eyes turned skyward. The stars are beautiful and the moon is full.

“It’s time like this I wish didn’t live in the city.” Phoenix says. “I forget how beautiful the stars are.”

“Makes me miss home.” Hangman admits. “Used to lay out on the trampoline with my sisters.” There’s longing laced through his words. “Slept out there a lot.” He’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Rooster reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Hangman rests his hand on top of Roosters, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stars.

“The moon is so pretty when it’s full.” Amelia says after a beat of silence.

“I always wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.” Fritz tells them.

“There’s still time.” Halo tells him. He smiles and nods.

“Stargazing always reminds me of going with Goose when he’d go back to Texas.” Mav says, voice cracking when he says Goose’s name. “The guest room at their house had a window that opened onto the roof and I’d climb out and lay there to look at the stars. Goose-Goose joined me a lot. Talk a lot about the future, being neighbors, sitting by a campfire in the evenings and watching the stars come out. Sitting somewhere more comfortable than the roof.” Mav chuckles a little at the memory and starts to get teary so focuses on the dying embers in front of him. Amelia squeezes him tight and he rests his head against hers. He wishes Goose was there. Could live that future they always talked about. Could see the incredible young man Bradley has become. Could get to know Penny and be Amelia’s weird Uncle Goose. He swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back his tears.

Over thirty five years later and he stills misses Goose. He thinks he always will. It hurts a little less as the years go by, but the pain of losing a brother stays with you forever.

They start picking up trash and leftovers. Chairs get folded up, sand is kicked over the remains of the fire and they all trek back to the parking lot. Mav’s watch tells him it’s almost midnight. Amelia is leaning heavily against them as they walk, but he doesn’t mind.

At the cars goodbyes are shared and confirmations of dinner at Mav and Penny’s the following night are given. Hugs are exchanged. Mostly given to Mav, who’s not expecting it and gets a bit emotional. Both Phoenix and Halo press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t cry, thank you very much, but maybe a gets little misty eyed. He watches his kids pair off and head toward different vehicles, laughing and talking and wonders how he lived so long without this. This wonderful familial kind of love. Rooster hugs him last and longest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tells Mav, searching his face for something, but Mav doesn’t know what. Mav smiles and nods. Rooster pulls him back into a hug. It took several hard conversations to get to this point, but Mav is so glad to have Rooster back in his life.

“Tomorrow, kid.” Rooster huffs a laugh against Mav’s neck and let’s him go, turning to pull Amelia into a hug.

“G’night, kiddo.” He mumbles and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Mav was admittedly very surprised by how quickly Rooster and Amelia grew attached to each other, but he’s glad they’re getting along. Whenever he asks what they got up to the day he took Penny up in his Mustang he only receives laughter in response so he’s given up asking. But something happened to have them form a bond like they now share.

Once he’s sure they’ll all be ok he and Amelia head back over to the Hard Deck. Penny is just finishing up her closing chores when they stumble in, laughing. Penny smiles. She loves watching the two of them. Amelia had been very dubious when she and Mav had first gotten back together, but Mav had been sincere when he said he wasn’t leaving again and Amelia let him in. And Mav clearly loves Amelia like she’s his own and while that still scares Penny a little she loves him and she’s so happy to him back in her life she’s willing to work past her lingering fears.

Amelia joins Penny behind the bar, offering to help finish up. Mav watches them and realizes not for the first time just how lucky he is. He realizes too that he’s been wondering for years what it really means to have a family and kids. And if this is what it’s like on the inside of love, well, it’s not a bad place to be.

[withahappyrefrain]

Somebody to Love

Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.

Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader

For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!

The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.  

He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit. 

In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played. 

You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.

You were mistaken. 

The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention? 

The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket. 

"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"

The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face. 

Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read. 

So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own. 

It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book. 

"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying. 

But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar. 

And simply shook your head. 

"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots. 

Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.

"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there." 

You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?" 

A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink. 

Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night. 

—------------------------

Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up. 

The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory. 

He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious. 

Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost. 

He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags. 

Why put someone through that? 

“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her. 

But he couldn't see them being true for himself. 

So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone. 

It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers. 

And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it. 

Consistent. 

Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat. 

Consistent. 

Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him. 

“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.” 

—-------------------------------

Bob saw her first. 

It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru. 

The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing. 

Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light. 

She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience. 

Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself. 

Reuben was the first one to speak to her. 

Or rather, his daughter was. 

Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground. 

It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her. 

Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies. 

He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before. 

“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand. 

“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.” 

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.” 

Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities. 

“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked. 

“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink. 

It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push. 

Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her. 

In a sea full of testosterone, it was  hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age. 

“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.

“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained. 

Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name. 

“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease. 

“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter. 

“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked. 

You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.” 

Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation. 

But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection. 

“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong. 

“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”

Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had  been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged. 

Your nickname. 

It hits Jake like a fucking freight train. 

“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen. 

Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting. 

“What is-” 

“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.” 

Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look. 

“Where is she?” 

Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house. 

After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married. 

So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love. 

“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-” 

“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.

“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!” 

Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game. 

Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her. 

“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”

A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him. 

Strange. 

Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more. 

“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”

Oh. 

So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife. 

It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids. 

“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts. 

“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable. 

“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him. 

You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen. 

Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled. 

“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler. 

“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava. 

“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.” 

“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes. 

“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you. 

You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face. 

“I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself. 

“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural. 

“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still. 

“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence. 

“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast. 

“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-” 

“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door. 

“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley. 

“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man. 

“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes. 

“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.

“Did he just… “

Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.” 

“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked. 

Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?” 

He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes. 

And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake. 

You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave. 

It was a nice change. 

“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?” 

You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.” 

“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise. 

“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,”  you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts. 

“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done. 

You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained. 

You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils. 

“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.” 

Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls. 

“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.” 

“You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

Oh. Okay. 

That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all. 

“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-” 

“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.” 

Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden. 

“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father. 

“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place. 

You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.” 

“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive. 

“Something helped you have that revelation?” 

“Moreso someone.” 

It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before. 

Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze. 

“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up. 

“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone. 

Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you. 

His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you. 

It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin. 

Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine. 

Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you. 

“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this  contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning. 

“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins. 

The only sound you can let out is a confused huh. 

“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face. 

“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded. 

Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.” 

Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek. 

His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours. 

You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body. 

“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks. 

What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you? 

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?” 

Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.” 

He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath? 

You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.

“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act. 

“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?” 

“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort. 

“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.” 

You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?” 

“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples. 

“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.” 

Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers? 

“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.” 

Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise. 

“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable. 

“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet. 

Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.” 

You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat. 

 “And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”

His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun. 

Almost. 

His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over. 

“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours. 

The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.

[sunlightmurdock]

When All Is Said and Done | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

In which Maverick’s best man and his daughter come together to plan a wedding, then celebrate the success of their endeavours.

Warnings: smut, porn w very little plot, unprotected pinv (use protection pls), oral (f receiving), choking, drinking

“I do.”

“I do.”

“And do you, Penny Benjamin —“

“I do.” Your mother beams, smiling at the love of her life from across the alter. She has been waiting for this day for a long time. Pete was her first real love. They had met when she was wild and he was even wilder. They’ve been on and off for decades, but this time, they’re making it official.

You were a result of one of their on times, followed by some pretty bumpy offs through your childhood. They did their best to keep you out of the ugliest parts of it, you know that they’ve loved each other for as long as you’ve been alive.

But, not always like this. There was Stu, your Mom’s second husband, Amelia’s dad. He was there through most of your adolescence. Not to mention the countless women that Mav has introduced you to.

Your parents reconciled about a year ago. It’s been a whirlwind, you’ve never seen them this in love. So, when they announced two months ago that they were engaged and wanted to be married as soon as possible — you had known that the pressure was on.

This was your seven year old dreams coming true, it had to be perfect. Unsurprisingly, you were chosen to be maid of honour. More surprisingly, Maverick chose Bradley Bradshaw to be his best man.

As kids, you saw Bradley frequently. Whenever you would stay with your dad, he would drop you over at Aunt Carole’s house often. Bradley was a couple of years older, he wasn’t ever really that interested in playing with you but Carole adored having you around.

As teenagers, you barely saw him at all. He was always at sports, or in his room with friends, or out of the house. Then he and Maverick had had that huge argument. You hadn’t seen him since he was maybe seventeen.

Then he had come strolling back in to your life.

Taller than he was back then. Stronger. Broader. Tanned, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a neatly groomed moustache on his face, calling himself Rooster now. At first, you had thought he had shown up in costume.

You were quickly corrected by him. That had been an embarrassing mistake to make.

Your parents lasted through a week of wedding planning before they were butting heads and arguing about different shades of green for the chair covers. Sitting at the kitchen counter, looking between the two of them disapprovingly, you had known that you would have to intervene.

“Just relax, Rooster and I will take care of everything.” You had breathed, stepping between the two of them.

“We will?” Bradley frowned.

“Yes, we will.” You had insisted.

The two months that had followed had been hard. Planning the wedding that your parents had wanted in two months had proven to be damn near impossible. You had to take time off work, stay up late. The majority of your early summer had been spent arguing with venues and coordinators to make sure that the wedding went off without a hitch.

Bradley had been busy with work. Unable to take time off like you could. Too busy to help with decorations and suit rentals, even though that was what you had allocated. Somehow not too busy to plan your father’s bachelor party.

Things had changed at the end of May. You had cornered him and told him that things had needed to change. He insists that you had threatened his life — you aren’t so convinced that you did, but either way, it had worked.

Now, in the middle of June, your parents lean together and kiss softly. The church, filled with your closest family and friends, cheers for them. You clap, grinning at your parents.

“I want to start off by thanking everyone who helped out, and worked hard to make today special for my beautiful wife and I,” Mav begins, smiling softly. He turns his head and looks at you and Bradley individually, “Especially our incredible daughter, and my best man over here, Bradley.”

You lean back in your seat and extend your champagne glass behind Penny and Maverick’s chairs, towards Bradley. He smiles softly and takes his, leaning around them to clink his glass against yours.

“We did it.” You mouth across to him.

“Told you we would.” He whispers back. You grin, bringing your glass back and taking a sip from it.

You sit there politely, listening to your father’s speech, feeling Bradley’s eyes on you every couple of minutes.

After Maverick has thanked everyone for their part in the wedding, the band takes over for a while to give your parents some time to talk to each other and to their guests. You get up to stretch your legs, Bradley heads over to his friends to greet them for the first time since the reception.

You walk out onto the patio, the buzz from the champagne and the breeze from the dropping temperature hits you all at once, but it’s a pleasant feeling. The stress from the past few months fades as you walk down the steps and into the garden. The decorations from today’s ceremony are still up. You look around at them, proud of yourself for the work you did.

You walk up to the front, taking a seat on the bench closest to the arch. You sit down and take a drink from your champagne glass.

The peace and quiet is nice, you sit with your sense of accomplishment and mild buzz, listening to the wind in the trees.

“Hiding already, Mitchell? — Mav’s not even rapping yet.” Bradley teases, calling back to the Eminem incident at your father’s fifty-eighth birthday party, as he follows along the same path towards you. You cringe at the memory, unable to stop yourself from letting out a soft groan.

“Oh, don’t,” You complain, letting out a dry laugh. You shake your head as he steps around and sits down next to you. “He was so wasted that night.”

“So were you, if I remember right.” Bradley comments, taking a sip of his beer, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s handsome in his tux, especially under the twinkling lights strung above the garden. He turns his head to you, his expression a mixture of amusement and challenge.

“I was not!” You insist, shaking your head again as you sip at your champagne.

“So you dance like that when you’re sober, good to know.” Bradley comments, lips quirked up into a soft smirk. You scoff and drive your elbow into his ribs playfully. He laughs and shifts closer to you. He extends his arm along the back of the bench.

It’s not technically draped around your shoulder, but it’s also not not around your shoulder.

You turn your head to look at him. He bumps his beer bottle against your champagne flute gently, “You did good. Today was incredible.”

“We did.” You correct him, fully aware of how close you’re sitting. You’ve never noticed that he’s got soft brown freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose before today.

He shakes his head, lifting his hand from the back of the bench. His thumb strokes along your bare bicep and makes you shiver, “This was all you and we both know it. Your parents are so lucky to have you.”

“I can’t believe those words just left your mouth,” You scoff playfully, leaning your head back to look at the twinkling lights above both of you. There’s a soft breeze tonight, you can still hear the music playing inside. Bradley’s warmth radiates onto you. This is nice. “Aren’t you the one who called me a control freak a couple of months ago?”

Rooster smiles, caught.

“I didn’t think your Dad was going to snitch on me, in my defence.” Bradley replies, stroking his fingertips along your arm. “I don’t think that anymore, anyway. You’re just bossy.”

“I am not—“

He raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you to go ahead. You bite your cheeks to keep from smiling, staring him down. Rooster smirks. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

Oh. This is happening. He leans in, closing his eyes, tilting his head, pressing his lips to yours. You lean slightly into him, lips tenderly moving against his.

Rooster leans closer, resting his hand against your knee, trailing it along your skin. It slides along your thigh, trailing the slit in the side of your bridesmaid dress.

“Hey - woah, oh no - oh, ew!”

You pull apart sharply to look at your younger sister. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she looks between the two of you.

“Were you two…?”

“No!” You answer sharply, Rooster looks between her and you. “What do you want?”

“Can I use your ID to get a drink?”

“No.” You frown at her. She groans, rolling her eyes and walking away from the two of you. Bradley takes his hand away from your thigh and shifts back slightly.

He covers his mouth with his hand, brushing it over his jaw and sighing, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pull him forwards again, pressing your lips to his. He nips at your bottom lip, the taste of champagne on your tongue as it slides against his.

He slides his hand up your back, curling it around the nape of your neck and pulling you closer against him. Your chest presses into his as he caresses his tongue into your mouth.

You pull apart abruptly again at the sound of footsteps behind you.

“Not here.” Rooster mumbles. You slip your hand into his, leaving your drinks on the bench as you pull him up and guide him back into the building. Trailing your fingers along the wall, you push open a random door on the right of the hallway.

It’s a small room, someone’s office maybe. A desk in the middle that’ll work just fine for what’s about to happen. You round on him as the door closes behind him. Rooster’s hands find your waist as yours drape around his shoulders.

His hands wrap around your waist and trail down to cup your ass, causing you to let out a small gasp. Rooster presses himself into you, walking you back until you bump into the desk. You tense up as he grabs your hips and drops you onto the desk.

This has been a long time coming. All those bickering arguments, late-night phone calls, all those hours you’ve spent planning today. Deep down, you had known this was coming.

Rooster lips his tongue into your mouth once again, grabbing your knees and parting them, moving to stand between your thighs. His fingertips trail up along your legs, as far as the slit in your dress will allow him. Not far enough.

This time, not skipping a beat, he hikes up your dress. Thick thumb swiping over your cleft, eliciting a soft purr from your lips. The honeyed sound has him growling softly in anticipation, pressing his mouth hard against yours, picking up his movements.

You reach forwards, tugging at his bow tie, loosening it in one movement. Your hands fumble with the buttons on his white shirt. Rooster presses himself against you, nipping at your bottom lip as you tug his shirt out from under his belt to finish unbuttoning it.

Rushing to get him out of it, he works with you, shrugging his suit jacket and his unbuttoned shirt at once. He tugs hard at your knees, almost making you slip off of the desk as you’re pulled to the edge of it.

“Holy shit.”

Leaving him in just his trousers, you take a moment to marvel at his bare chest — god, he’s so much hotter now than he was when you were kids. He pushes your dress up further around your waist, grabbing the back of your knee with one hand, cupping your throat with the other.

“So wha— god,” Rooster breathes out as you pepper a dozen kisses over the length of his neck. “What are you into?”

Your brows furrow slightly, grabbing onto his bicep for leverage as he pushes the thin strap of your dress of your shoulder, attaching his mouth to the skin.

It’s hard to think when he’s nipping at your skin like this. Your head lulls back, a soft moan slipping your lips.

“Uh — I — I’m pretty into reading, and s-stuff— um —“

“In bed, Mitchell — I meant what are you into in bed?” Bradley interrupts, pulling back and giving a soft shake of his head. You stare at him, letting a moment of silence fall between the two of you.

“Choke me.”

“Huh?”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him in again, humming softly as he relaxes into you. The kisses grow more passionate, there’s a certainty between the two of you about what’s going to happen here.

Braldey’s hand found its home back between your legs, pulling your panties to the side this time. You’re dripping for him already and he has barely touched you.

Circling his digits around your sensitive clit, you mewl quietly. Dipping into your wetness, he pushed the tip of his finger into you and lifts his head to look you in the eye. Your head just about spins, met with soft honey coloured eyes and parted lips.

Pushing deeper until his entire middle finger is in you, Bradley groans out. He works the digit into you, stretching you open more and more. Dripping onto his palm, you gasp for breath. Rooster eagerly presses another finger into you, making you whimper out softly.

He picks up the pace, kissing your lips as his fingers massage that spot inside of you that makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open. His other hand brushes the other strap of your dress off of your shoulder.

His attention quickly focuses on your exposed breasts, nipples peaked from the cold air. He groans softly.

You lean back on your palms, lips parted as his mouth works its way along your bare chest. Open-mouthed kisses, leaving a warm trail along your collarbones and down your chest.

You gasp as he curls his fingers especially deep into you.

“Fuck, Rooster — like that.”

He palms at your breast softly with his free hand, rolling your nipple between his index finger and thumb. It hardens further under his touch as his mouth attaches to the other, flicking his tongue softly over the sensitive bud.

“Oh my god…” You lean your head back, sliding your fingers into his neatly styled hair as the knot in your stomach grows tighter.

Rooster lowers himself to his knees, parting your knees further. You gasp as his teeth graze the inside of your thigh, fingers curling into his hair. He sucks softly at the tender skin, his mustache scratches softly, in the best way.

He pulls back for just a moment and hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, you lift your hips, he slides them down your legs, trailing their path with his mouth. He kisses your ankle tenderly and guides it over his shoulder.

Bradley shoves them into his pocket and nestles himself between your legs, glancing up at you. You look so beautiful, staring down at him so eager, but he doesn’t have time for heartfelt proclamations. He wastes no time in tasting you. Licking a stripe over your folds, he groans softly against your core.

You jolt at the feeling, watching him between your legs. He continues lapping at your core, thick fingers curling into you. You spread your legs wider for him — he grabs your thighs and guides them around his shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer.

He takes one hand away from your legs and palms himself over his dress pants, uncomfortably hard against the already tight fabric.

The wet muscle of his tongue dips inside of you, his nose brushing against your clit as he drags it slowly up again to the swollen nub. He traces the tip of his tongue around it before sucking hard then soft and letting go.

Your fingers curl tighter into his hair, panting out. Bradley groans against you, repeating the movements again and again until you’re crying out.

He grins against your skin at the shattered cry that slips your lips, sucking harder. You tug hard at his hair as his teeth gently scrape over it, your thighs squeezing around his ears. Rooster sucks at it softly again, fingertips digging into your thighs.

“What’s my name, baby?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Rooster, fuck!”

Bob and Fanboy stop walking at once, turning their heads to look at the door and then to look at each other. Mickey grins as he slips the joint between his lips, both of them shake their heads as they walk by the door.

They both laugh as they continue outside.

Your toes curl, heels pressing into his shoulders as he draws your orgasm from you. You cum, shuddering against his mouth. Rooster doesn’t ease up, lapping up your release, giving hums of approval as he guides you through the aftershocks.

He pulls away, raking his nails along your thighs. His eyes seem darker as he looks up at you this time. You push yourself upright, breathless. Rooster’s hands go for his belt as he stands up, tugging at the leather.

The sound you make is almost a growl. You pull him closer to you by his belt. He sighs contentedly as you pull it open, lips pressing hungrily to his throat. You leave his belt open, yanking down his zipper, pushing his boxers down just enough to expose him.

He rests one of his palms down on the desk, the other wrapping around the base of his cock. You both gasp softly as he pushes into you. You look up, met with pretty brown eyes. You whine softly.

“Oh fuck,” Rooster shivers, cupping your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss. You groan softly against him as he presses forwards until he’s buried into you completely. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

He rocks back, pulling almost all of the way out. Rooster rests his forehead to yours, lips parted as he looks down between the two of you, watching as he slides slowly back in. You whine through bitten lips, brows knitted in focus as your body stretches to accommodate him.

Forehead to forehead, your eyes meet for just a second. He curls his fingers tighter by just a fraction, guiding you in by your throat until his mouth is on yours. He nips softly at your bottom lip and uses the surprised gasp that follows as an opportunity to slip his tongue in against yours.

You moan softly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply.

“Ah - oh my god.” You whimper out, breathless, your eyes focused solely on him. He squeezes slightly tighter, setting a pace that has your head lulling back in pleasure.

“Look so fucking pretty, Mitchell.” He murmurs affectionately, lips brushing your earlobe as he fucks into you, constricting the airflow just enough to dizzy you without it hurting.

You smile at him, taking your bottom lip just slightly between your teeth. Rooster’s lips part. He takes in the sight of you, grinning devilishly at him, his hand around your throat as he fucks you.

“So pretty.” He breathes out unsteadily. He releases his hold, wetting his lips with his tongue as you gasp for air.

“Bradley - R-Rooster - fuck, fuck - that’s so good.” You whimper, grabbing onto his bicep for leverage, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He leans forwards and presses his lips to your hair, snapping his hips forward and making you cry out.

He goes right to setting a brutal pace, ruthless as he fucks into you. Just how you need it. You’re gasping, moaning out for him as he grunts in your ear.

“You gonna cum again for me, honey?” Bradley teases, punctuating his question with a hard snap of his hips that draws a pleasured shriek from your lips. You nod eagerly as his hand wraps around your throat once more.

A strangled moan slips your lips, your heel pressing into the small of his back. Rooster growls softly into the curve of your jaw, tugging at your hair as he pounds into you.

Your nail drag sharply down his back, leaving scorching red marks in their wake. Rooster’s hips stutter slightly at the feeling, he squeezes his fingers tight at the sides of your throat as he rams himself into you, hard. You cry out into his shoulder as your vision goes blisteringly white.

“Bradshaw? You in there?” Three heavy knocks rattle the door. Rooster takes his hand from your throat and clamps it over your mouth. Jake bangs at the door again.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.” Bradley whispers. You squeak against his hand, the sensitivity making you tremble through the aftershocks of your second orgasm. You nod hurriedly, moaning against his palm.

You're vaguely aware of Rooster’s praises raining over you, telling you how good you feel — how good you’re doing for him, as you tremble under him. His hips stutter to a stop as he releases inside of you, pressing himself as close as he could possibly be.

He rocks his hips a little, riding out his high, groaning against the curve of your jaw.

“Bradshaw!” Jake pounds at the door again. “Maverick’s looking for you!”

Rooster blinks, looking down between your bodies and then back up at your face. You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“One second!” Bradley answers, curling his fingers around your hips. He rests his forehead against his shoulder, both of you whining just slightly as he pulls back and slips out of you.

“Oh my god.” You breathe, legs trembling. You push yourself up from the desk, hurrying the straps to your dress back up your shoulders to cover your chest.

“Rooster — you have a speech to give, man, you have to get out there!” Jake insists, knowing that Maverick is happy and smiling now but that things are likely to take a turn if the best man doesn’t show up soon.

“I’m-“ Rooster tucks himself back into his pants and rushes to buckle his belt. “I’m coming! — Just hold on.”

He looks to you and finds you smirking as you fix your hair. He’s not coming now, but he was a couple of seconds ago. Rooster grabs his shirt and jacket, slipping them on in one motion and fumbling to button up his shirt.

You turn around and look into the reflection of the candle holder, fixing up any smudged make up. You smooth your hair out once more, making sure there aren’t any indents from Rooster’s fingertips.

Rooster finishes buttoning his shirt and smooths out his hair, knowing it must be fucked up from how you were grabbing it when he was between your legs.

“I gotta go, I’ll - Just let me do this, I’ll come back-“

“Rooster, wait!”

He turns quickly.

“Rooster!” Jake calls again on the outside of the door, smacking his fist into it. Rooster’s eyes widen as you dip your hand into his pocket. You pull your underwear from it and hold it up.

“Oh, shit - sorry, honey. You look beautiful. I gotta go.” He leans in quickly and kisses your cheek. You step back, making sure Jake won’t spot you when the door opens.

Bradley opens it a fraction, slipping through the gap and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jake steps back and furrows his eyebrows, “Mav’s going to fucking kill you.”

“What? — Why? — I didn’t do anything.” Rooster rushes out, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide. All in all, looking fairly disheveled. He tucks his shirt into his pants.

“Because speeches started fifteen minutes ago and you were supposed to start. You’re going last now, but there’s only so long that Penny’s dad can stall for you, man — where’s your tie?” Jake frowns. Rooster looks down and realises his bow tie is still on the floor of the room he just exited. He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter. I have to pee, two seconds and I’ll be right there.”

“What? — I thought that was the bathroom, what were you? Oh. Oh, Bradshaw, you were not fucking one of the bridesmaids!”

“Shh!” Bradley hisses. He glares at Jake. “Go, stall for me, two seconds.”

Bradley rushes into the men’s room to clean up. You have the same plan. Jake’s handing Bradley the microphone when you step back into the room and cross to take your seat at the head table. Bradley’s on Mav’s left, you’re on Penny’s right.

“Where did you disappear to, honey?” Penny whispers as Bradley cracks jokes about Maverick’s wild, younger days.

You swallow, adjusting your dress slightly, lifting your head to look at Bradley. “Had to get some air.”

“Hm,” Penny hums, nodding her head softly. She smiles and pats your knee, “Amelia already told on you, sweetheart. Is that your lipstick on Bradley’s collar?”

You pick up the glass of champagne in front of you and take a long gulp.

…

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

The Nanny part 2

note: here's part two to the nanny! i'm hopefully going to try and start to get longer pieces out soon, i'm still trying to get back into the swing of writing fics again.

warnings: mentioned of parental death

trigger warning: one sentence in the fourth paragraph that talks about school shooting, but no violence actually occurs.

word count: 1.6k (sorry it's short, between yesterday and today i've had a headache that wouldn't go away :( )

no beta again, we die like men

inspired by: @roosterforme

previous part | next part

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You just moved to California, wanting a change from the cold Vermont air and where better to stay than with your aunt, Penny Benjamin. Penny was your mom’s sister, an unfortunate accident in 1999 took your mother and your father, you were 10 years old. Penny was more than willing to take in her only niece, even if it meant having you relocate to Virginia with her. 

Years had passed and Penny had done all but adopt you, she called you her daughter when people asked, made all your appointments for you until you were old enough to make your own, she helped you with boys, and then girls, when you came out to her. She held you while you cried over your first real heartbreak, she taught you all about your period and safe sex. She made you feel comfortable, like you could go to her with any problem that you had, and she would fix it for you.

Maybe it also helped that your grandfather was an admiral in the United States Navy, but that’s beside the point, Penny Benjamin took care of you when you had no one once, and she was more than happy to do it again. 

Being a teacher, especially in today’s world, is hard. You had to worry about whether or not your school was going to fall victim to the next mass shooting, if you could keep your kids safe in an environment where the legislators didn’t care. It was a hard choice to make, leaving the school system, because you knew that they were already understaffed, and that there were no qualified substitute teachers available to take over your position… but between the abuse from your principal, the students, and the entitled parents? You were done.

You at least waited until the end of the school year before packing it all up and moving west. It was a sad goodbye with all the students you had loved but for your sanity, it was what you needed to do.

Penny had an open bedroom, and Amelia was thrilled to be living with you again, mainly so you can help her on her homework, and of course you were happy to see Penny and Pete back together. You always loved having him around when you were a kid, and it really did feel like your relationship with him never waivered, even though you only texted each other for holidays and birthdays after the last time he and Penny “broke up”. 

You were laying on the couch scrolling through your phone, not paying attention to whatever it was Amelia had put on the tv when Penny walked in after her short shift at the bar; it was a slow weekend and Jimmy had it plenty under control.

“Hey, so I might have told one of the guys Pete works with that you’d be willing to nanny for him.” Penny says as soon as she walks in.

“Are you talking to me?” Amelia asks, not looking away from the tv and Penny laughs.

“No, your sister.” 

That catches your attention and you groan.

“I don’t want to nanny some old admiral’s bratty kids.” you say as you sit up and Penny sits next to you.

“He isn’t an old admiral with bratty kids, he’s 35, the same age as Bradley, and he literally just had an infant dropped off on his front porch today.” she tells you and you look over at her. “He needs a lot of help, and you would be perfect for the job. Aside from working at the bar you’re never doing anything.” she shrugs and steals some of the popcorn that was on the table and you look at her with your mouth open.

“Okay, first off. Rude. Secondly, I do plenty of stuff!”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Uh, I help Amelia with her homework.”

“And you can help her while also helping Jake out with his daughter.” Penny says and you sigh.

“Fine.” you grumble and head into the kitchen, “do you eat yet, Pen?”

“Yeah, Pete brought me food to the bar.”

“Don’t you… serve food at the bar too?” 

“Not sushi.” 

You spend the next three weeks waiting to meet this Jake guy. Sure you knew of him, but you didn’t want to be persuaded by the ‘Hangman’ persona that he had before becoming a dad. Sure people don’t just change overnight, so you’re sure he still has quite the mouth and attitude, especially if this baby is keeping him up at night. 

You opened the bar early and the members of the Dagger Squad slowly filtered in. Bob was sitting at the bar with you while you were getting bottles ready, he was telling you a story from when he was a kid on his family’s farm and he was chasing down pigs and slipped and fell in the mud when the bell above the door rang. 

Looking over, you see a man you don’t recognize carrying a little baby in the cutest little dress you’ve ever seen, a diaper bag slung over his other shoulder. You shoot him a smile as he walks up to the bar.

“Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.” you say as you wipe a rag over the bar top, cleaning up some of the iced tea that Bob spilled. “You must be Jake?” 

This new man smiles at you and nods, “Yes ma’am.” he says, setting the diaper bag on a barstool. 

You watch his muscles flex as he shifts his daughter from one side to the other to give his arm a break and he catches you staring at her. “This is Avery.” he turns so you can see the little girl’s face and you let out a gentle little coo.

“Oh look at you! Aren’t you just the cutest little girl.” you say, talking in a voice that has her laughing and reaching out for you. You take her from Jake without even hesitating and she plays with the fingerprint pendants of your parents that you have hanging around your neck. 

Since the bar is still technically closed for another hour and a half, you make your way out from behind the bar and take a seat on the stool next to Bob who smiles at the little girl, pulling away as she tries to reach for his glasses but isn’t quick enough as she rubs her chubby fingers over his lenses. 

You and Jake just laugh at her antics and at poor Bob who is left with baby drool covered glasses for the time being, but even he can’t stay mad at little Avery. She looks up at you, blue-green eyes bright as she smiles her little gummy smile and laughs along with the two of you. 

Jake can’t believe how comfortable Avery already is with you, it took days for her to warm up to anyone aside from Penny; she still doesn’t like Rooster but Jake believes it's a hundred percent because of his mustache. Normally he’s nervous when she’s around strangers of any kind, even her own doctor when she first saw the woman, but with you he’s oddly… comfortable. 

Begrudgingly you hand Avery back to Jake, you have to open the bar in 20 minutes and you’re already way behind but thankfully Bradley volunteers to help you get ready. You’re standing next to him slicing limes as he cuts up some oranges.

“You know, she’s never taken to someone that fast before.” he says, making sure the slices are relatively uniform.

“It’s because I’m a woman.” you tease and he rolls his eyes.

“No, seriously. Penny was a given because she’s just the best, but Phoenix? Bob? She only just started to get along with them, and those two are the best people in this entire squad. It even took her a bit to warm up to Hangman and he’s her dad.” Rooster says, stealing an orange slice that he cut too thin before taking a beer from the fridge under the counter and walking away.” 

“You have to pay for that!” 

“Put it on my tab, Rings!” he calls out, throwing a wink over his shoulder and you roll your eyes, opening a tab for him before going over to the window and flipping the ‘open’ sign on.

You’re about halfway through your shift when Jake walks up to you, Avery sleeping against him despite the volume of the bar. 

“Hey, headed home?” you ask, taking the top off of a few beers before handing them to the patron that was waiting. 

“Yeah, figured she would prefer to sleep in her bed tonight than on the pool table.” he jokes and you give a gentle laugh.

“Yeah, probably.”

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out this weekend? Talk about what Pen offered? If-if you still think you can help me out?” he chews his lip a little, nervous for you to say you’re not interested.

“Yeah! Definitely, uh… here,” you grab a napkin and write your number down with a little cartoon drawing of a circle with a ring around it, how you always signed your nickname. “I’m off on Saturday and Penny isn’t opening on Sunday since it’s going to be such a hot night, she wants us to be off so I’ll be free whenever on both days.” you tell him and he tucks the napkin in his pocket with his phone.

“I’ll text you on Saturday? I can pick you up? Or I mean-” you cut him off with a laugh.

“You can pick me up, I assume you know where Penny lives?” he nods and smiles.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Great, see you on Saturday, Dad-man.” you give him a wink before turning away to go help Jimmy out with the patrons that have gathered around the bar. Jake laughs and turns around to head out, Dad-man?

-----------

taglist: message me if you would like to be added! if your name is struck through, i wasn't able to tag you.

@mandylove1000 @zbeez-outlet @emma8895eb @buxkybarnez @classyunknownlover @caidi-paris @classycolorpeach @eugene-emt-roe @emorychase @missemrose @fighterpilothoe @crystal-lily-1011 @pookie-cleary @max-dalton @hisredheadedgoddess28 @elijahmikaelsonbitch @thegoddessc @yourfaveaquarius92 @blueoorchid @archaeologydigit

[seasonsbloom]

bad habit (hangman)

read part ii, read part iii

pairing ; hangman x female!reader

synopsis ; the moment you meet hangman, you know you hate him. and then suddenly, you're not so sure anymore.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

wc ; 15k

warnings ; angst, explicit language, mentions of previous character death (reader’s mother dies of cancer), mentions of sexual activity, (some) explicit sexual activity, horrible dirty talk, age gap, hangman is sort of an asshole but not really, inexperienced reader

note ; i cannot believe i am posting this, it is so LONG and i am so embarrassed... at first it was just supposed to be pwp and then it suddenly had a LOT of plot and backstory and then i was at 15k and hadn't even really gotten to the smut part yet and now... i'm thinking... part 2? maybe? let me know if you're interested lol. anyways... first fic... yay?

Fightertown is all sand, suntan lotion, and contrails crisscrossing like latticework across the endless stretch of baby blue that is the Californian sky.

At first, you don’t know how to handle it. You’re from Seattle, which means an average of 156 rainy days a year, and here it feels like the only water you’re ever gonna feel again is the Pacific Ocean and the layers of sweat drying sticky on your skin when you wake up every day. You’re too stingy on your electrical bills to leave the fan spinning circles that herd stale air through your room all night, and it gives you a stuffy nose anyways, so you just suffer through it. Then, in the morning, you spend ten minutes standing under ice-cold water until your teeth chatter with enough force to hurt your jaw, only to forget once more what it feels like not to be hot minutes later.

Penny says you’ll get used to it eventually. But, two months in, you’re wondering if maybe she’s wrong.

“‘Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,/ Men were deceivers ever,-’” you read from the book in front of you. “‘One foot in sea and one on shore,/ To one thing constant never.’ Now, what does Shakespeare mean by that?” 

Amelia is starting to look like she’d rather be anywhere else. You’ve been at it for about 55 minutes, meaning you’ve got approximately 5 more left for today’s session. Usually, you’d call it quits by now and let her enjoy the remainder of her afternoon because she looks tired enough to fall asleep right here at the dinner table, but you don’t want to leave yet. You’d like to think it’s because you’re a sensible teacher. Most likely, though, it’s because the Benjamin residence is airconditioned, and Penny keeps that shit racked up to a moderate 71 degrees all day, and apparently, you’re a selfish bitch who will put her own need for heat relief before her student’s need for a reprieve from Shakespeare.

Which, like. Semantics.

“I don’t know,” Amelia says, chin resting in the open palm of her hand. She probably would know if she’d listened at all, but you’re pretty sure her mind is as much on the popsicles in the fridge as her eyes are on the clock on the wall.

“It means men are moody assholes who can’t stay faithful,” Penny says as she steps into the living room, ignoring her daughter’s scandalized Mom! “Pretty self-aware for the 16th century, don’t you think?”

You hum. “Pretty true, too.”

Penny laughs. “Don’t you know it? Take it as a life lesson, Amelia.” Then she extends something wrapped in colorful plastic in your direction. “Fudgesicle?”

Maybe some part of you should feel bad about exploiting the Benjamins for their aircon and free ice cream, but you’re sort of past that point.

“Thanks.” You take the fudgesicle and start unwrapping it without any further ado.

“Mom,” Amelia, her phone in one hand and her own ice cream in the other, asks as she gets up, “can I go upstairs now?”

“Ask your tutor,” Penny responds with a thumb pointed in your direction.

You shrug, preoccupied mainly with the flavor of chocolate and fudge melting on your tongue. Your bank account doesn’t really allow for luxuries like popsicles anymore, but, God, this must be heaven.

“Yeah, we’re pretty much done with Shakespeare today. Go over those pentameters again before the test, okay?”

“Sure.” Amelia smiles at you, already halfway to the door. “Thanks. See you next week.”

You wave at her turned back, and wait until she’s disappeared before you say, “She’s a good kid.”

Penny snorts. “A little glued to her phone, maybe.”

“I think that’s sorta par for the course.”

“Not very good with Shakespeare, either.”

“Now that’s definitely par for the course with a fifteen-year-old. Be glad they aren’t reading Hamlet.”

Penny laughs. She sinks into one of the unoccupied chairs at the dining table and stretches her legs out with a sigh. She’s already switched her usual cotton shorts for jeans which tells you she’s about to head over to her bar for the rest of the night.

“I guess I should count my blessings,” she says. “At her age, I’d already hijacked two planes with two different pilots.”

Penny’s stories about her teenage transgressions are always enough to make you feel stuck somewhere between awe and profound jealousy. Your own life is downright dull in comparison.

Then again, your life - and especially the romantic aspects of it - are downright dull compared to most things.

“You must have given your parents gray hairs,” you say, packing up your pencil and notebook in your tote bag. It’s not easy with only one free hand, but somehow you manage without leaving a trail of chocolate across Penny’s tabletop.

“I sure hope so.” 

You’re down to the part of your Fudgsicle where the wooden stick pokes out of the ice cream, and try to avoid licking at it accidentally. You hate the feeling of the wood against your tongue, but the whole thing is a bit difficult, as you’re also trying to eat at a pace you know will give you a stomach ache later.

You have to get out of here before Penny sinks her talons into you and…

“You should come by the Hard Deck today,” she says, and you bite back a groan.

Too late.

“I can’t,” you say semi-automatically, “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Roughly a month ago, you pinned a sheet of paper to the bulletin board at the gas station where you’ve been picking shifts up since you arrived in town, advertising Tutoring for English, Grades 1 to 12. Penny was the only person who answered. Since then, you’ve been coming to the house once a week to tutor Amelia and, unofficially, to be lectured by Penny on all the joys life has to offer.

Her words, not yours.

“No, you don’t. You never work Sundays,” Penny shoots back immediately. Then, at your frown, she just shrugs. “You can’t lie to me, sweetie. I used to do it professionally. It takes one to know one.”

You sigh. “I don’t know that I feel like going out tonight.”

“You’ll feel like it once you’re actually out.”

Having finished your fudgesicle, you place the stick carefully in the wrapper before getting up. You reach across the tabletop and heft up your complete edition of Shakespeare’s plays. The thing is thick enough that you like to keep it by your bedside, just in case you ever wake up to an intruder in your apartment. It definitely doubles as a defensive weapon.

Penny lets out the long-suffering sigh of someone over going through the interminable motions of this spiel the two of you have inadvertently established. “What are you going to do then, tonight?” she asks. “Eat Cup Noodles and read Shakespeare?”

You can feel your face heating up. That really had been the plan.

“Jane Austen, actually,” you mumble without looking at her, clutching the book to your chest like a shield.

“Just… come down tonight, yeah? It’ll do you good to see some people. You’re twenty-three, sweetie. You shouldn’t be sitting around all on your own,” she says gently. “Please?”

The thing about Penny is that beneath her cool-girl veneer, beneath the tough-as-steel attitude of a bar owner, beneath the badass single mom allures, she’s really, really kind. It lets her get away with stuff that would be unacceptable coming from anybody else, but it also means she’s coming from a place of love, most of the time. 

You know this. Which is why the next thing you ask is, “Does your bar have aircon?”

+

The dress was a mistake.

You know it the moment you step out of your Uber. It’s too short, so you just know you’ll be spending the rest of the night tugging at the hem every few minutes. It’s also low in the back where the tightly tied straps of the halter-neck slap against your shoulders, and that means everyone can probably see the patch of acne your dermatologist promised would subside after puberty. Turns out, all men really do is lie. So you’re also going to have to find a wall to perch against and maintain that position until it’s socially acceptable to leave without Penny being angry with you.

In short: you’re deeply uncomfortable.

You don’t even remember why you picked this out earlier, let alone why you bought it in the first place. A mixture of misplaced bravado and alcohol on a night of online shopping, probably. It’s just that there’s this thing you sometimes get, this peculiar tug in your stomach, this strange desire to be seen at the same time that you’re terrified. You want to be invisible, but sometimes you think you’ll die if you don’t get any attention.

Maybe you just want people to perceive you, but without any of the negative consequences that might come with it.

That’s not how the world works, though, a voice at the back of your head tells you that sounds so much like Penny it scares you.

You spend a good five minutes idling by the parked cars, turning your keys over and over and over in your hands. You have half a mind just to go back home.

The Hard Deck is spilling buttery yellow light into the darkness of the night, and people migrate to it like moths to a lamp. You can hear the music and the chattering of voices even from where you’re standing in the gravel parking lot. It’s the sort of thing that should probably make you excited, but instead, you feel the familiar swoop of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Ridiculous, you scold yourself. You can’t honestly be afraid of a night in a bar.

Even past ten o’clock, with the sun set beyond the horizon in a display of pinks and oranges and blues so ostentatious it bordered on smugness - like the sky was saying, hey, look what I can do! - it’s still too hot. You can feel pearls of sweat beading in the nape of your neck, the tops of your thighs, the peak of your hairline. If you don’t go in now, the make-up you spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting will melt down your face in a puddle of mascara and lipgloss.

I’ll just stay for a while, you think. I’ll let Penny make me a pink and fruity cocktail, and then I’m going home in an hour. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay.

You’re really trying to hype yourself up as you climb the few steps to the front porch. A few people are milling about here, nursing beers, a couple making out towards the railing where the light doesn’t reach.

Inside, the air smells like sweat and beer and good times. There really is air conditioning, but it doesn’t do too much to dispel the heat of too many people pressing into too little space. People crowd towards the bar, a throng of them, as they nudge and poke to beat each other to the next drink order. It’s mostly people from the Army base, you realize, a little taken aback. A sea of short hair and tan uniforms, beers in hands, and smiles on faces. The jukebox is playing a Springsteen tune.

You’re distracted enough that when somebody bumps into you, you let out an actual yelp and almost lose your footing.

Large hands come up to steady you by the elbows. “Sorry, sweetheart,” someone says from behind you.

You turn on your heel quickly. The guy is beautiful, because of course he is. The sort of beautiful you can recognize even when you get only a glimpse of his jaw and shoulders. Tall, tan, fit.

Your heart skips a beat.

He’s also not looking at you at all, hands already gone from you, neck craned to presumably look for someone in the sea of people.

“Didn’t see you there,” he says, and then he’s strutting away from you just as quickly as he’d come.

And, okay… ouch.

Now you regret wanting to be invisible earlier. Turns out the actual thing does not feel good. Not one bit.

A pit opens up in your stomach, and you need to swallow down whatever emotion is rising in your throat. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to cry.

Then somebody calls your name across the room. It’s Penny, waving at you from behind the bar with a massive grin on her face, and you could fall to your knees with relief.

You push your way through the crowd, fighting elbows and knees until, finally, your palms hit the wooden counter. It’s sticky beneath your fingers. You cringe.

“You made it!” Penny cheers. She draws a perfect glass of beer from the tap even as she talks to you.

You’re reluctantly impressed.

“Yay!” you agree, miming sad little jazz hands.

Penny laughs, never one to let even the most pitiful excuse of a joke pass her by. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“I did promise,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come out as defensive as it does.

Penny shakes her head, still smiling. She deposits the beers in the waiting hands of a Navy pilot, then turns to you. “I don’t doubt your integrity, sweetie. Just your commitment to having fun.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slowly letting your gaze wander over the overstuffed bar. “Fun.”

This time, Penny actually snorts. “Just have a drink, yeah? Relax.”

People have been telling you to relax for years now. You’re too tense, you’re too uptight, you gotta loosen up a little. They did it in high school. They did it when you were studying for an English degree in college you haven’t used even once in the year since your graduation. Hell, you’re pretty sure somebody did it when you were still showing up to kindergarten Halloween costume contests dressed up as a Math teacher while everybody else was a Power Ranger or a Princess.

It’s just a little difficult to relax when all you’ve got is childhood trauma, an apartment you can’t afford, friends you don’t talk to anymore, and student loans to pay off until the end of your life.

“I haven’t been relaxed a day in my life,” you say drily.

You can’t be sure because she’s turning to fill a row of shot glasses lined up neatly on the countertop, but you’re almost positive Penny is rolling her eyes.

“I could help you relax.” You know it’s the guy from earlier before you even turn to confirm your suspicion. He’s sidled up behind you, leaning half over your shoulder. This time, he glances down at you and has the audacity to send you a wink. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

Now that you know he’s a total sleaze, you feel better about how he ignored you earlier.

“Seriously?” you say. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

A grin spreads over his features. You realize he has an incredibly punchable face.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

You bristle. A remark you hope will be scathing builds up on the tip of your tongue, but you’re interrupted before you can let it loose.

“Hangman.” You’re seriously confused by the tone of genuine affection in Penny’s voice. What the hell is that about? “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a round of beers.” He lets his eyes drift down to you again, and his grin grows impossibly wider. “Plus whatever the little lady’s having. You can put it on my tab.”

Little lady. You’re about to vomit on the countertop. You’re definitely not feeling a strange tightening sensation in your stomach. Nope, no way.

“No, thank you,” you say pointedly. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Never mind you know for a fact you have about ten dollars left in your wallet.

“Come on,” the guy says, nudging you a little where he’s still hovering over you. He’s so goddamn close. You can feel the heat he radiates, can smell the scent of his aftershave, something spicy yet sweet. When he speaks, his chest rumbles with the sound inches behind you. “See it as an apology for knocking into you earlier.”

So he does remember. You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Penny is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle of something you can’t name in her eyes. It’s enough to inspire actual fear in you.

“Let me guess…” The guy pretends to think about it for a moment or two. “You want something pink and fruity, yeah?”

You can’t believe it’s that easy for him to read you, can’t believe the way it has instant, white-hot shame flashing through you. Now you really want to punch him.

Shoulders actually, genuinely shaking with all the anger piling up inside of you, you turn to face Penny. “Scotch,” you say. “Neat.”

Penny is staring at the two of you as if she’s watching a tennis match. Then, you become suddenly and uncomfortably aware of a bar full of people tailgating behind you, waiting their turn to order their drink.

While you’re starting to feel your skin itch with all the attention, the guy seems to have no qualms. His finger appears in your field of vision as he points at you. “You heard the little lady, Penny. One scotch. Neat.”

He over-pronounces the word, the t crisp and sharp, mocking you, and you grab the countertop hard enough your knuckles protrude white beneath the skin.

Penny shrugs and reaches beneath the bar to retrieve a glass and a bottle of scotch. Then, as if calling back to some inside joke, she says, “You got it, Hangman.”

That stuns you.

“Your name is Hangman?” you ask, and you can’t keep the genuine disbelief out of your voice. “What, did your parents hate you? What the fuck kinda name is that?”

He raises an eyebrow, but the smirk remains unrattled. “You got a pretty dirty mouth, huh, sweetheart?” 

“I can curse as much as I like, thank you very much.”

He hums, says, “We’ll see about that.” 

And when you look over your shoulder, you find him staring at your lips.

You whip back around, elbows squished between your body and the bar, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. Blindly, you stare straight ahead, through the open back doors, to where the moonlight reflects off ocean waves. Something is itching beneath your skin now. You have to calm down before you blow your fuse.

“Hangman,” he explains after a moment of silence, “is my callsign.”

That clarifies just about nothing to you. “Callsign?” you repeat. “What are you, a phone sex operator?”

It was supposed to be an insult, but he throws his head back, laughing like you made the funniest joke he’s ever heard. Then he leans forward, all the way into your personal space, chest pressing to your back, shoulders brushing yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he says, “If you want me to talk dirty to you, sweetheart, all you need to do is ask.”

It sort of wipes your mind clean. No thoughts, only your body reacting - stomach tightening, hairs standing on end, a shiver down your spine. Penny sets the scotch down in front of you, then breezes off to serve some other customers. You barely even see her. Your breaths are coming a little faster, your heart is beating a little harder.

Then he straightens up again, all points of contact suddenly gone. If you weren’t sandwiched between him and the bar with nowhere to go, you think you might tip over backward. It’s all so sudden it leaves you dizzy.

He chuckles, and you hold your ground. Refuse to look at him. If he has picked up on just how rattled he’s got you, you’d rather at least not know about it.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a phone sex operator,” Hangman says. “I’m a fighter pilot. More dangerous, just as sexy.”

You twist around to get a better look at him. Then, for the first time, you take note of the khaki uniform. Nobody, you think, absolutely nobody, should be able to make that color work for them. And yet somehow, it brings out the green in his eyes.

“Bigger environmental footprint.”

It’s pretty weak, admittedly, but this whole night has spiraled into a realm you didn’t plan for so quickly that you can’t come up with anything else. As a result, you’re uncharacteristically out of your depth.

“Bigger everything,” he shoots back, raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

You don’t know how to counter that, so you take a sip of your scotch and then have to concentrate way too hard not to spit it right back out. The first time you ever tasted alcohol, you snuck a gulp from your dad’s class of Whiskey on the rocks. This is almost as vile, if not worse. Years of consuming margaritas exclusively seem to have dialed your tolerance for straight, hard liquor down to a solid zero. 

“You still sure about that drink?” Hangman asks. The amusement is so evident in the upward turn of his mouth that it makes you want to kick his teeth in or hide behind the counter with Penny. One of the two, just as long as you don’t have to keep looking at him. “I’ll buy you something else. Maybe Penny serves juice boxes.”

Just to spite him, you down the whole thing in a single, long drink.

It burns a trail of fire down your esophagus, and you have to fight a coughing fit so violent you’re not sure you aren’t about to choke. Big mistake, definitely. Huge.

You try your best to keep your face neutral, but your muscles aren’t cooperating. At least if Hangman’s smirk is anything to go by, he’s definitely called your bluff.

“Well, you took that like a trooper,” he says drily. 

Anger lodges in your throat.

“You must be the most insufferable pilot in the whole Navy,” you tell him, hoping all the distaste you feel for Hangman translates into your voice.

Not that it matters. He seems to be one of those guys so infatuated with themselves that everything just rolls off their shoulders, like water off a duck’s back.

“I like to think so,” he says amicably. “I excel at most things I try. Always strive for excellence.”

You’ve never considered yourself a particularly violent person, but you’re pretty sure you would have broken his nose right then and there if it hadn’t been for Penny choosing that exact moment to swoop in.

“Here are your drinks, Hangman.” She places them on the countertop, then jabs a thumb towards the back of the bar. Her voice goes a little pointed as she says, “I think your friends miss you.”

He doesn’t look annoyed to be interrupted, and you can’t believe it, but it puts a little dent in your pride. 

Just how stupid am I? you ask yourself, making a point to face away from him again.

Hangman twists his upper body to reach around you, somehow balancing three bottles in each hand, clamped between his fingers like he’s the alcoholic version of Edward Scissorhands. For a moment, you’re completely enveloped by him, in his arms, and it’s too much, definitely too much, goes straight to your head. You can smell him again, the aftershave and the body spray and the sweat, and as his chest presses flush to your back, you swear you can feel the beat of his heart against all that bare skin exposed by the dress.

“You ever need some help relaxing,” he says into your ear, and for an instant, you feel the ghost of his lips tracing against your ear lobe, “you just ask, yeah, sweetheart?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you clutching at the bar desperately. Your legs feel like jello, ready to give out beneath the weight of your body.

What the fuck just happened? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is still completely, absolutely blank.

Penny pops up out of nowhere like a meerkat. Something on her face tells you you’d better run for cover right now unless you want to get wrapped up in one of her schemes, but you’re rooted to the spot.

“So…” she drawls, and the grin blooming on her face is downright devious. “Hangman, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, rummaging through your purse just to have something to steady the tremors in your hands.

“He was so coming onto you.”

“He was not.”

“Oh, yeah, he totally was. That was aggressive even for Hangman standards, and, lord, that’s saying something.”

“Can I get, like… a glass of water?”

Penny ignores you. “You should totally go for it.”

She nods her head in the direction he disappeared, and you can’t help but follow with your eyes. A group of Navy pilots is shooting pool in the back towards the opened doors. Even among all the uniforms, Hangman sticks out to you - blond hair, tan skin, smirk you want to slap right off his face. He’s laughing at something the only woman in the group said - a real, full-bellied laugh - and then, out of the blue, as if he can feel your gaze, looks right up at you. 

Across the chaos of the bar, across the scattered tables, across the people swaying to the ABBA song playing from the jukebox, across the raised beer bottles and lowering shot glasses, he sends you a wink.

Feeling caught, you turn away instantly. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“No way,” you say. It doesn’t come out as firm as you want it to, your voice wavering, and you have half a mind to ask for a bucket of ice to thrust your head into. Maybe that could clear the cobwebs.

Penny laughs. “You sure, honey? You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I’m sure I do,” you agree. “From anger. I’ve never met somebody that obnoxious.”

It’s pretty clear you’re grasping at straws here.

“I’ve known him since he was a student at Top Gun. He’s a good guy,” Penny says. “Deep down.”

“How deep are we talking? Like Mariana Trench? Center of the earth?”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Come on. Stop thinking so much. Go and have some fun.”

You point at the sign hanging above her bar, the one she’s so proud of she has mentioned it to you several times. “I thought you were supposed to help out when somebody disrespects a lady in here.”

It makes her laugh, a genuine laugh full of amusement and affection that bursts out from deep in her belly. She pets your hand gently.

“You can handle yourself. I know it for a fact.” The smile goes from genuine to mischievous. “Besides… you could stand to be disrespected a little. In the bedroom.”

You gape at her retreating back for a moment.

Then you drop your face into your hands and mutter to yourself, “Oh, God.”

Again… what the fuck just happened?

+

“Hangman asked me to give him your number.”

Penny doesn’t even wait until the end of the lesson this time.

You’re at the Benjamin dining table, watching over Amelia’s shoulder as she writes a short paragraph on misogynistic themes in Much Ado About Nothing. All the ice cubes in your water glass have melted, and the condensation leaves rings on the tabletop and damp against your palms.

When you glance up from Amelia’s work, her mother is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded in front of her chest. She’s grinning. You look back at the notebook and pretend your heart hasn’t just started racing.

Amelia, whose pen has stilled, asks, “What’s a hangman?”

“Who,” Penny corrects. “He’s a guy interested in your tutor.”

“There’s only one c in unnecessary,” you say. “A shirt has one collar, two sleeves.”

Amelia doesn’t seem to have heard you. “Oh my god,” she says. “Is he cute?”

“Very,” Penny answers at the same time that you grit out, “Not at all.”

“Is he a pilot, too?” Amelia asks, shooting her mother a look you don’t miss.

For all that she is just a teenager with all the eccentricities and dramatics that entails, Amelia has what some would call an old soul. She’s always looking out for her mother, always thinking things through to the bitter ends that Penny would rather look at through the lenses of her perpetual rose-colored glasses.

It reminds you of yourself, and sometimes you want to hug Amelia, hold her, tell her she doesn’t need to take on all these battles. That she deserves to be a child, should revel in it for as long as she can. You don’t want her to end up like you, all this baggage and no one to help you carry it.

“Of course.” Penny, unperturbed, pushes into the room and pulls out a chair for herself. “Nobody can resist those Military men.”

You hide your snort behind a coughing fit just so you don’t give Penny the satisfaction of thinking she’s actually funny. She doesn’t deserve that.

“When did you meet him?”

“Saturday, at your mom’s bar,” you explain, pulling her notebook towards you. “And we didn’t meet. He almost knocked me over and then proceeded to mock me for ten minutes. Not exactly romantic.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. He was flirting with her like crazy.”

You pretend to be busy scanning over Amelia’s writing, but you don’t register much past the words Hero and Claudio.

“Which one is Hangman again?” Amelia asks. She sounds much too invested in this for your liking.

“The blond one.”

“Oh, with the green eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wait, he’s so cute.”

You groan and drop your head onto the tabletop.

So yeah, maybe there are people out there with real problems. People that are starving or people that have lost their homes. Compare your situation to them, and your toil will seem like nothing. All that is true. But right now, at this moment, you can’t imagine a fate worse than having both Benjamin women pouncing on you like this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetie.” Penny pats the top of your head like you’re a small dog. A miniature poodle or something. “If anything, Hangman will be a good time.”

You turn your head so your cheek is pressed against the wood of the table and glare at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this in front of your teenage daughter.”

“This isn’t the worst conversation she’s had in front of me,” Amelia says. She’s doodling something in the top corner of her essay. At your skeptical look, she shrugs. “Mom gets chatty when she’s drunk.”

“What I’m saying,” Penny continues, voice rising just a little, “is that you won’t regret giving Hangman your number. You need to loosen up a little.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t notice that innuendo,” you mumble under your breath, then sit back up abruptly. “Absolutely no way. He’s not getting my number.”

“I think it would be cool if you had a boyfriend,” Amelia interjects.

“You and me both, baby,” Penny agrees, leaning across the table to take a sip of Amelia’s sugar-free Mountain Dew.

You are going to start screaming spontaneously any minute now.

“I’m perfectly fine being single.”

Amelia grimaces. “You literally know half of Much Ado About Nothing by heart.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Penny reassures quickly and gives her daughter a placating look. “Just that you might have a bit too much time on your hands.”

“That’s not true. I work six days a week.”

“Exactly!” Penny smiles from ear to ear. It’s almost angelic, that smile. You can’t believe there’s an actual demon hiding behind it. “Which is why I should give Hangman your number. You have to have some fun at least one day a week.”

“I agree,” Amelia says.

“Am I still getting paid for this?” you ask, glancing at your phone to get the time. “Does this stay on the clock?”

Penny doesn’t answer your question. “I just think anybody in Fightertown needs to go on at least one date with a Navy pilot. It’s a rite of passage, really.”

“Aren’t there any other eligible pilots around then? Somebody nice? Literally anybody else?”

Penny’s smile turns soft. “You’re not seriously trying to convince me you’d be content with a nice guy, are you?”

That gives you pause. “What’s wrong with nice guys?”

“Absolutely nothing. Just… I don’t think nice is what you need at all, sweetie.”

You exhale loudly and then sit up, shaking away the strands of hair plastered to your cheek. “I don’t think I could stand being around Hangman either.”

“I’m not saying you should get married to the guy,” Penny acquiesces, “just… go on one date.”

You think about it for a moment. Think about dressing up in your prettiest dress, waiting outside your shitty apartment complex for Hangman to pick you up. Would he wear his uniform again or civilian clothes? You imagine him in jeans and a t-shirt, a hoodie for when it gets colder, the way the fabric would hug his broad shoulders. Would he take you to a restaurant or to the movies? No, Hangman seems like the type of guy to take you somewhere he can show off, you decide, to go bowling or surfing or something equally embarrassing for you, gratifying for him. You think about sharing a bottle of beer on the beach, the ocean spreading far and wide and blue in front of you, waves cresting, the moon gleaming, his warm hand on your back, his voice so close to your ear. Think of drawing him closer, his breath on your mouth, his touch on your hips…

You shake your head to banish the thoughts.

No way, you think, and something inside of you flutters with the sudden fear of it all, no way I can do this.

“I don’t think so, Penny,” you say. Your voice has gone quiet, dispassionate but firm, and you know Penny will know not to push further. “We should get finished with this lesson.”

Penny is quiet for so long that you know she’s swallowing down words. So you make it a point not to look at her. 

There’s a fear inside of you, a fear that stands in doorways and won’t let you pass. A fear that blocks the pathways of your life. You’ve been static for so long now that you don’t know how to shake it. Sometimes you don’t even know if you want to.

There’s something reassuring about not moving. It means you won’t get lost.

Finally, Penny sighs. “Alright,” she says, rapping her knuckles against the tabletop. “Be good, you two.”

You concentrate on the words blurring and sliding off the page in front of you and ignore the insistent, nagging voice at the back of your head chanting coward coward coward.

+

It’s Friday, but you’re not feeling at all inclined to thank God for it.

The gas station is deserted, which, in your humble opinion, is much worse than when it’s busy. Because no costumers mean nothing to do and nothing to do means nothing to occupy your mind with, and nothing to occupy your mind with means thinking, thinking, thinking.

You’re like a broken record - getting halfway through a thought before you circle back to the beginning, endless loops cartwheeling around and around.

It goes: Penny, Amelia, Hangman, Saturdays at the Hard Deck, Arizona Ice Tea spill in aisle four, Hangman, Hangman, Hangman… record scratch, pause, tape spooling, rewinding, replaying.

You’re so bored you’ve counted all the ceiling tiles four times. On the radio, they’re talking about the weather. The slushie machine is spinning cherry-colored ice with little, gurgling sounds.

The bell chimes, and you barely look up from your phone screen. A few lowered voices, the sound of laughter, and shuffling feet on linoleum floors as the group approaches the glass walls behind which row after row of drinks stands huddled can to can in the blessed cool. You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

And you must have done something really horrible in a past life - there’s no other explanation for why the universe keeps doing this to you.

Hangman is leaning against the counter, one elbow braced on the top, the other arm lifting to flick his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. He’s smirking, and the expression has become so familiar already that you think it might be melded with his face. You pretend not to notice the sleeve of his uniform straining against his bicep.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask.

“Definitely not.” Stepping away from the counter, he lifts a sixpack into the air. “I’m buying beer.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You got any ID?”

It punches a laugh out of him, and you don’t like it. You weren’t aiming to amuse him - you want to annoy him. You want to make his skin crawl the way he does to you. You want to slip inside his mind and burrow there, stay there, get lodged there. A splinter in his finger. A thorn in his side.

The intensity of it scares you, and when you reach for your water bottle, playing with the cap, your hands are shaking.

He reaches into his pocket and gets out his wallet. The picture on his driver’s license is old; He’s younger in it but no less handsome. His hair is just as blond, his eyes just as green. There's nothing ridiculous about it, unlike the botched photo you took at the DMV years ago.

You glance at his date of birth belatedly, almost like an afterthought, then do the mental math quickly. Not because you think he isn’t old enough to buy the beer. Just to find out how big the gap between him and you is.

Seven years. Seven years… you don’t know what that means. You don’t know why you care.

“Alright.” You move to ring up the sixpack, but he shakes his head.

“Waiting for my friends,” he explains with a thumb thrown over his shoulder.

“You have friends?”

He laughs again. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” you mutter and, resolved not to engage with him any further, pick your phone back up and settle in against the shelf of cigarettes behind you to ignore him.

He is having none of it, and you’re not even surprised.

“I liked the dress better, but those shorts aren’t half bad either.”

You look down at your work uniform of white denim shorts and a hideously orange vest with your name tag pinned to the chest. It is a downgrade from Saturday’s outfit, that’s for sure, but you haven’t settled on how you feel that he remembers it yet.

“I didn’t think you noticed my dress,” you say.

“Sweetheart, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice that dress.”

It has you lifting an eyebrow, seeing an in. “Oh, so you admit you’re an idiot then? Since you ran into me and all?”

His smirk goes just a fraction wider. “Maybe I did it on purpose.”

“You run into girls on purpose often?”

“Only the real pretty ones.”

It makes your head spin because… things like this just don’t happen to you. Not with guys like Hangman, at least. And it’s not even because you think you’re ugly or unappealing. Rationally you know you’re not. It’s just that he’s so… he’s so…

“What, am I so handsome you’re speechless?”

He’s so goddamn insufferable.

“You torturing this poor girl, Hang?” 

You recognize the woman from last Saturday, her sharp cheekbones, the glossy hair sleeked back into an army-mandated but nonetheless impressive coil at the back of her neck. She’s pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head, which already makes her less of a show-off than Hangman by a mile. The smile she gives you is genuine and warm, and you feel yourself relax.

Anything’s better than being alone with Hangman.

“Oh, hardly.” Hangman shuffles to the side to let the woman heave another six-pack onto the counter. “If anything, she’s the one torturing me.”

There’s a literal ball of fire in your stomach, radiating heat all the way up to your cheeks. You must be looking like a deer caught in headlights right now.

The woman purses her lips. There’s so much derision in this one minuscule expression that it has actual jealousy jolting through you. Man, if only you could look at Hangman like that, you might actually make some sort of impact on him.

“Stop lying, man.” The woman rolls her eyes and then shares a look with you, something conspiratorial, something long-suffering only women can share in the presence of a man severely overestimating his own desirability. “She’ll punch you before she lets you take her out.”

Hangman shrugs. “Fine with me. It’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“What the fuck,” you mumble and busy yourself with the register.

“Is he bothering ladies again?” Two other men in Navy uniforms step up. One, tall, dark-skinned, mustachioed, dumps a whole armful of snacks on the counter, then grins at you a little sheepishly. 

“Always,” the woman answers without missing a beat.

Hangman says, “I’m not bothering her if she enjoys it.”

You’re almost entirely positive that he winked at you again, but you make it a point not to look up and start scanning items instead. 

“You guys need any bags?”

“That’s alright,” the woman answers.

They chat among themselves as you ring them up, but you can feel Hangman’s eyes on you the whole time. It’s enough to make you feeble, clumsy, and try your best not to drop anything.

You don’t know what compels you to say something. By all means, you should stay quiet. Let him leave. Never think about it again.

Instead, you pick up a bag of flaming hot Cheetos and say, as casually as you can manage, “Are you having a party?”

“Bonfire,” Hangman corrects. His elbow is still balanced on the counter, all that tanned skin, and you let your eyes follow the trail of his arm, up to his chest where his name tag spells SERESIN, all in capital letters. You pause there, staring at the name. “On the beach.”

You think that’s going to be it, that you’re going to ring him up and send him home. You’ll bite your tongue bloody before you say another word.

But then he continues, “You should come.”

He hasn’t been exactly subtle in his flirting, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet somehow it does, enough to stun you. Maybe it’s just your lack of self-confidence, but such a blatant invitation to spend an evening not just with him but with all his friends, makes your brain short-circuit.

“I have to work,” you answer almost automatically, brain operating completely on auto-pilot.

He lifts his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “After work, then.”

You open your mouth but can’t come up with another excuse, so you just settle on, “Your total is 42,98.”

You think he will fight you on it like he’s been fighting you on everything since the first time you met. But he just smirks, only one side of his mouth lifting, and gets his card from his pocket.

“I’ll pay,” he says.

When you accept his card, you take painfully meticulous care not to let your fingers brush against his.

The woman watches the whole exchange, and as you glance at her, something unreadable, some tiny flicker of emotion crosses her face before a genuine, slight smile replaces it.

Hangman stores his wallet in his pocket and starts collecting snacks in both arms, as do the other two men. You watch it all with a strange feeling fluttering in your chest, something that grows in your throat, threatening to choke you.

You wonder what it would be like to live in the moment, to stop thinking of consequences, stop weighting every decision with scales, overthinking every issue until you’ve looked at it from every angle and still haven’t found a single solution. You wonder what it would be like to throw your hands up in the air, say fuck it, who cares, wait for the end of your shift and drive down to that beach, get drunk on the beer you sold to the most obnoxious pilot in the history of the Navy, to take him home later and then have him inevitably never call you or text you or even speak to you again.

You wonder what it would be like not to feel the weight of the world drag you down, down, down.

“See you around, sweetheart,” Hangman says, smirking, pushing his aviators back up the bridge of his nose until the green eyes disappear behind the dark shades, until he’s obstructed from view. Until he becomes once more just a guy you pass on shopping streets, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful to ever talk to you. He turns towards the door, the other two in tow.

If he looks back, you think, torn between wishing and dreading, if he looks back, I’ll go.

He doesn’t look back.

Only the woman hangs back, looking at you with the same expression you can’t make light of. Curiosity, maybe. Interest.

“He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” she asks after a moment.

Her voice is different now, less harsh somehow. Softer.

You can’t even imagine what it must be like to try and make it as a woman in a world that’s still as obviously run by men as the army. You suppose there’s some amount of adjustment involved, some posturing. A shell as thick as armor.

“It’s… it’s fine. He’s harmless.” You’re surprised at your own words but not as surprised as you are to find that you actually mean them.

No part of you feels threatened by Hangman; no part of you feels unsafe or intimidated. You’ve been hit on by enough sleazy men in bars to know that that’s a rarity.

“He can be a lot, sometimes.”

You snort. “I can tell. If anyone’s in danger here, though, it’s him.”

She raises an eyebrow, and her sunglasses, still pushed into her hair, climb with the movement. “How so?”

“If he keeps going as he has been, I’ll punch him in the face.”

She grins and says, “I don’t doubt it.”

It’s nice. Pleasant. Easy.

You can’t remember the last time you spoke to somebody close to your own age like this, almost like you’re friends. At the realization, your heart gives a painful pang.

“I’m Phoenix, by the way,” she says, offering you a hand across the counter.

You take it without hesitation and smile at her as you tell her your name.

She nods. “We usually hang around the Hard Deck on Saturdays if you ever want to come by.”

“Oh,” you say, “Thank you.”

It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. She doesn’t strike you as somebody who says things she doesn’t mean, and that’s why it’s special to you.

She nods again, says goodbye, and pushes off the counter.

By the door, she pauses suddenly. Then, with one hand already on the handle, she glances back at you.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Phoenix says, face gentle, and you don’t need to ask who she’s talking about. “He’s just… he’s just Hangman. He acts like an asshole, but he’s a softie on the inside.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, unsure how to answer.

Phoenix shrugs. “I just thought you should know,” she says.

The bell above the door rings as she steps outside. A gust of warm wind blows in. The aircon groans once and pumps more stale, cool air into the room. The radio is stuck on a Katy Perry song. You tap your fingers against the countertop in a rhythmless pattern, squeeze your eyes shut, and think of the long, long stretch of nothingness that extends before you.

+

Three months ago, you packed your life into a car.

It had never been part of the plan. Because that was a thing you used to have, once upon a time - a plan. You knew exactly what you wanted, from the job to the dog breed to the car. There was a house down the road from your parents, a house with a blue door and a white fence, and a tire swing dangling from the branches of an old, twisting willow tree, and you had known you’d buy it one day since you were five.

When you were eight, you used to run past that house every day to catch the school bus, thinking what it would be like to be up on that swing, kicking your legs and soaring higher, higher, higher, up into the blue of the sky. When you were fifteen, you wondered what it would be like to live in a house with two stories, a house where things wouldn’t be cramped, where you didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes waiting for the only bathroom to be free, where you didn’t hit your elbows and knees and shins and toes on all the nooks and crannies and rusting nails protruding from wood. Finally, when you were twenty, you wondered what it would be like to come home from work to a husband who loved you and kids who smiled at you.

So you used to have a plan. Go to college, get a job, grow up, get married, buy that house. You used to have things figured out.

And then your mother died.

You remember watching her as she began to fade, as she went translucent like the paper she used to wrap your sandwiches in. As cancer dissected her, flayed her open, ate away her edges, a little more each day. As she went from vibrant colors to shades of gray, film history reversing itself. You remember when it got so bad, you left college to go back home, to sit by her bedside every day, to feed her by the spoon as she had once fed you, to read to her from the books you had once studied in 8 am classes, from Bronte and Joyce and Fitzgerald.

One morning you walked into her room, expecting to see her awake, and found that she’d gone cold in the night instead. To this day, you’ll never forget how that felt - the grief of it, instant and cleaving you in two, the panic of practicality, of not knowing what to do or who to call. And then the relief, that horrible, warped thing that welled up inside of you, that you still can’t forgive yourself for, because at least it was finally over, all that suffering and all that waiting around for the inevitable.

It was a small funeral. Your parents divorced years ago, back in the cartoon and apple juice days of your life, and your father was clumsy as always, a stranger in the face of the familiarity you’d shared with your mother. Just a touch of his fingertips to your shoulder at an open grave, a downward twist to his mouth, whispering sorry, kiddo, before he disappeared back into the lovely townhouse with his new family and the younger, more agreeable versions of you, the children he’d actually wanted. Back to sending you a birthday card a week late or a month late or not at all and never calling and never visiting and scheduling Facetime calls he forgot about in favor of dance recitals or school plays.

So then you were alone. Resoundingly. Irrevocably.

You finished college in a daze, graduated just because you had gotten halfway there, and dropping out seemed like a bigger hassle than finishing. Found yourself with a degree you no longer remembered what you had wanted to do with in the first place and all those crippling student loans. 

That house with the blue door and the white fence and the tire swing on the willow tree had lost its meaning. Your plan had turned to dust and slipped through your fingers, had been buried right alongside your mother.

So you sold your mother’s place (because who wants a house full of ghosts anyway, a house where each room reminds you of something that will spend the rest of your life missing from you) and got in your car, and you drove. You drove along the coast, through the thick trees of Washington, past the streams of Oregon, through the deserts of California, and when your car finally broke down in Fightertown, you said, fuck it, whatever, might as well, other places suck too. And you stayed.

It has remained the only time in your life you have ever acted on impulse, ever let your heart decide instead of your head, and you’re still not sure if it was the right decision.

You spend your days now trying to scrape together enough money to pay for your electricity bills and your rent and your gas. Just enough to get a frozen yogurt every once in a while. Just enough money so you don’t have to think about money all the time, counting it, saving it, missing it.

It’s sad, you think, when you’re alone at night, spread-eagle on your bed, limbs dangling off the sides of the mattress, staring up at the water stain spreading like a plume of smoke across your ceiling. A sad, little life with no direction.

You’re wallowing, and you know you are. Your penchant for dramatics is getting the best of you.

Most days, it’s not so bad. You like Penny, and you like Amelia, and the other day you went to see a movie at the theater, and that was nice. You like your books and your music and the Reese’s peanut butter cups you buy with your employee discount at the gas station. You like the beach, the taste of salt on your lips, and how the sun feels on the tip of your nose.

So most days, it’s not so bad. And then sometimes, it is.

Then it settles around like a dark cloud, like a fear you just can’t shake. That nagging anxiety in the pit of your stomach that seems to have no cause and no solution gnaws at you, yaps around your ankles, sinks its fangs into you, and won’t let go.

That’s when you curl into bed (but not under the covers because it’s still California and still too hot and still too expensive to keep the fan spinning) and blink into the nothingness and don’t move. And that’s when you dream, or else the dread of it all will swallow you whole and never spit you out again.

So you tell yourself that’s why you’re here again, at the Hard Deck, for the second week in a row, choosing to spend your Saturday with a bunch of sweaty drunk people instead of a family-size pizza. It’s just because you want to avoid the maelstrom of your mind.

It’s definitely not because you couldn’t stand the echoing loneliness of your shitty apartment anymore. It’s definitely not because Phoenix invited you and just seemed so goddamn nice. And it’s most definitely, a 100 percent certainly, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die, not because of Hangman. 

You’ll go to your grave swearing that.

When you shuffle into the bar, Penny stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. It’s early enough that there’s still space to move.

“What the hell?” she says, abandoning her task completely in favor of turning to gawk at you. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug your shoulders, trying for nonchalance even as you feel like there are tiny bugs wriggling beneath your skin. Too many eyes on you. “I was craving a drink.”

Penny raises an eyebrow in what you recognize as the international sign of not convincing enough.

“Who the hell are you,” she asks, “and what have you done with my daughter’s tutor?”

Ducking your head, you clumsily climb onto one of the barstools and fold your arms on the counter. Then you try to look around the bar as inconspicuously as possible.

“He’s not here yet,” Penny says.

“Huh?” Feeling caught, you busy yourself with adjusting the hem of your skirt, so it covers as much thigh space as possible. “What?”

Penny doesn’t even pretend to buy it for your benefit. “Hangman,” she says. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

You stiffen, alarm bells going off in your head. If she can read you this easily…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“Oh, come on, sweetie.” She pats your hand in a gesture you can’t describe as anything but pacifying. “It’s alright.”

Your face feels hot. “It’s not like that,” you say, but even you can tell it’s a feeble attempt at an argument.

Penny chuckles. It’s not a mean sound, quite the opposite, actually, but it still makes your heart sink an inch or two.

“There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, you know?”

That has you bristling. “I’m not attracted to him,” you protest. “I hate him.”

Utterly unbothered by the note of distress that has snuck its way into your voice, Penny shakes her head, an affectionate smile playing about her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of hate-fucking either.”

The gasp her words elicit from you is downright scandalized. You throw a furtive look at the patrons around you to make sure nobody heard, but that just makes Penny’s smile grow.

At least one of you is having fun.

“I’m not going to hate fuck anybody,” you say and then immediately wish your voice had sounded more firm. Less squeaky.

Penny shrugs. “Alright. It’s a fine line between love and hate anyway.”

“Why does everybody keep telling me that?” you whisper.

Either Penny doesn’t think that worthy of an answer, or she didn’t hear you. Which is fine either way. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.

“So what do you want to drink, then?” Penny asks, finally seeming to decide to indulge you just a little.

Finally you perk up. “Can you make me a Mojito?”

You spend the better part of an hour sitting at the bar, telling yourself you’re definitely not waiting around for him. You’re only here to get drunk.

But the longer you sit alone, watching people around you enjoying themselves, watching as the chatter goes from quiet to deafening, as the place fills up with a steady stream of patrons, the worse of an idea the whole thing seems like. You can’t remember what provoked you to come in the first place for the life of you.

Suddenly, your bed, a gaping, looming lion’s mouth earlier, seems like the most inviting place in the world.

“Penny,” you call, leaning across the counter and waving your hand to get her attention. “Can I just pay, please?”

“You’re going home?”

“I… yeah. I think so.”

With the way Penny is frowning at you, you can tell she isn’t too pleased, but she doesn’t fight you on it.

“I’ll let you go home, but you’re not paying,” she says.

“Penny, you already pay me. You don’t need to let me drink here for free, too.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I’m not. Hangman said to put anything you drink on his tab if you ever show up again.”

That gives you pause, your stomach tightening. “I can’t accept that,” you say, and your voice comes out strangely choked.

“Oh, but you can.”

It’s Hangman, because of course it is. He seems to have an uncanny ability to show up whenever you do so much as think of him. Like he can sense any mention of his name even from miles away. His ego is certainly big enough.

Grinning, he claims the empty space at the bar next to you, leaning his back against it with both elbows braced on the wood. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let a girl as pretty as you pay for her own drinks, now would I?”

“Gentleman,” you repeat under your breath. “We’re just saying whatever now, huh?”

He ignores that, twisting around instead to chirp, “Penny, darling, light of my life, will you get her another… what is that, a virgin Mojito?”

You wish you could come up with something witty, but you’re distracted by the long, long stretch of his legs, and all that comes out is, “I drink them with alcohol, actually.”

“Really? Is it only scotch you have trouble with then?”

Now this reminds you just why you hate this guy. Who cares if he’s handsome? Who cares if your heart starts cartwheeling every time he smirks at you? He’s a certified, purebred bastard, and you’re seriously considering if the satisfaction of breaking his nose would be worth the inevitable lawsuit.

“I don’t need you to pay for my drink,” you say, voice firm this time.

“I know,” he counters, still smiling, “but I’m pretty sure the Navy pays me better than whatever you’re making at that gas station, so I don’t mind. Just stop being difficult and let me pay for whatever you order.” 

The anger settles in your throat, already familiar. It’s difficult to keep it down, to keep your head from exploding.

“Fine,” you grit out from between clenched teeth. Then you turn away. “Penny? One round for everybody. It’s on him.”

The smile slides off Hangman’s face, his expression morphing into something stunned. For a moment, he actually looks impressed.

Then he laughs and shakes his head. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was something like begrudging admiration flickering across the planes of his face.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll hand it to you, sweetheart. That was well played.”

He gives Penny the okay, smirk once more firmly in place. And you, triumph so short-lived that it dies inside you like a pathetic little candle snuffed out by a typhoon, consider letting loose a long, echoing screech. 

Is there anything that will break that steely resolve of arrogance he carries everywhere he goes?

Penny rings the bell, and the answering cheer almost pops your eardrums. You turn away from Hangman before you do resort to violence and drain the last of your cocktail in a single sip.

“I’m going home,” you say and hop off the barstool. It brings you inevitably closer to Hangman, your thighs brushing his, and you pretend not to notice.

“So soon?” he asks, and you don’t need to turn to know he has raised one eyebrow. “I only just got here.”

“Hence my leaving,” you counter drily.

“And here I was thinking you wore this dress for me.”

He doesn’t touch you, but for a moment his fingers hook into the soft pink fabric of your dress, where it flares out around your hips. It’s enough to send a shiver down your back.

The worst part of it all, you think, is that he isn’t wrong. You upended the contents of your wardrobe earlier tonight until every available surface in your room - from the bed to the chair to the floor - was covered in clothes you deemed just not right. This number - flimsy, tight, low in the chest but a little more modest where the hem hits almost halfway down your thighs - was buried at the back of your closet, practically forgotten and with the price tag still on. Even as you laughed at how ridiculous you were being, part of you hoped he might notice.

And now that he has, you’re wishing you could rewind time and exchange the infernal thing for sweatpants and an old flannel.

“You’re way too full of yourself,” you tell him.

“So I’ve been told.” He gives you another once over, and suddenly you feel as if you’re standing naked in the middle of this bar. “This one’s spectacular, too, sweetheart, but I still maintain that first dress was my favorite.”

Somewhere between flattered and fed-up, you shoulder your purse. “Goodbye, Hangman.”

“Oh, come on.” He steps to block your path but makes no further move to touch you. “Have another drink with me.”

You’re about to protest when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“You really need to learn how to take no for an answer, Bagman,” Phoenix says. “The lady’s not interested.”

You can feel the smile spreading on your face. Just in time, you think.

Ignoring Hangman completely, she turns to you. “You wanna shoot some pool with my friends and me?”

You glance at Hangman from the corner of your eye, unsure whether you hope she counts him among those friends or not. Then you nod because Phoenix is still nice, and you don’t actually want to go home to your empty apartment, and playing pool sounds fun just about now.

“Sure. Why not?”

As Phoenix leads you toward the tables in the back, you feel Hangman’s eyes on you like hot irons.

+

You’re five drinks in by the time you give up on pool.

“God,” you whine, lowering your cue. “I suck at this.”

“I’d disagree,” Payback says, staring down at the green felt of the table like he might be about to cry, “but I think you’re right.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be on the same team!”

He grins. “Sorry, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar.”

There’s a warmth flooding your chest, something liquid and light. It might be the alcohol or the unfamiliar levity of it all. You’re more used to intense fits of worrying and anxiety than laughter with people you met only about an hour ago but still almost feel like friends.

“Want me to teach you, sweetheart?” 

Hangman’s sitting on a barstool not far away, nursing his beer. He’s been staring at you since you started the game, and maybe it's part of the reason your cue stick kept going in directions you didn’t mean for it to. Now you can just hear the smirk in his voice.

If you were less drunk, you’d come up with a witty response. But, as it stands, you just say, “No.”

Hangman ignores you. You can feel him behind you even before he steps up, your fingers tensing around your cue, your whole body locking up as if in anticipation, as if in dread. And then he’s there, solid and warm behind you, fingers curling around your arm and moving it backward.

The place he touches you seems to tingle.

“Like this,” he says, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. He’s speaking right into your ear again, and suddenly it’s impossible to talk, to think, to breathe.

He brings you into position with one hand on your waist, and you can’t believe it, but he’s practically bending you over that pool table in the middle of that bar, and you’re just letting him. His hips press into your own, an insistent weight that makes your head spin, makes you feel like you’re about to slide right off the face of the earth. The table's edge cuts into your abdomen, but you barely even feel it. You can’t register anything past the feeling of his skin gliding against your own as he lets his free hand wander slowly, slowly, down the expanse of your arm.

“Now, just gently…” He guides your arm backward as he speaks, his voice right in your ear, right in your head, his breath against your cheek, the side of your mouth, and you’re dizzy, can’t even see the ball that’s right in front of you, have no idea what he wants you to shoot at. “... thrust.”

The ball lands in the pocket with a resounding thunk.

For a moment, you just blink at where it disappeared.

“Good girl,” Hangman says, so quietly that only you can hear, fingers squeezing just once where he still holds you by the hip, and then he steps away.

It sends a jolt of molten heat through you. Your knees, which felt wobbly before, threaten to buckle. You just stay there for a moment, frozen, bent over that table, feeling like the earth beneath your feet is rolling in waves. A sound escapes you, something from low in your throat that gets swallowed up in the bar's noise - all the chatter and the music and the sounds of the engines running in the parking lot.

And then it’s an ice-cold panic that has you scrambling, standing upright, stepping away from the table, turning towards the group of people around you, and pretending you’re not trembling all over, that your panties aren’t soaked through.

“I’m done, I think.” You raise your cue above your head like a sports trophy. Your voice is remarkably firm for how frail you feel. “Who wants to take over for me?”

There’s a shuffle as a few of the guys whose names you can’t remember start fighting each other for your spot on Payback’s team. You give up after a while and just drop the cue. Somebody catches it before it can clatter to the ground, and you turn your back on them.

Tugging at the folds of your skirt, you try desperately to regain control. The evening is slipping through your fingers like wet rope. You feel unmoored.

Phoenix, grinning from her perch against the jukebox, offers you a swig from her beer bottle. “I think you weren’t too bad.”

“Well, I did keep forgetting if I was supposed to hit the stripes or the solids, so, like….” you admit, accepting the bottle and taking a tentative sip. Maybe this will help calm you. The taste hits your tongue, and you grimace. “Ew. I don’t get how you guys drink this.”

Phoenix laughs at you. “It takes practice.”

“I don’t wanna practice that,” you say. “I’ll just get another Mojito, I think.”

You’re not going to survive this night unless you have another drink. Hell, you might not survive this night even if you have another drink.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this confused. Your mind is a thicket of thorns that bite your skin at any move.

Hangman leans forward in his seat until he’s in your field of vision. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way you haven’t seen before, but beneath them, his eyes glint. It hits you suddenly that he knows exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you.

You consider getting that cue stick back and whacking him over the head with it.

“You sure you want another one, sweetheart?”

You frown and say, more forcefully than necessary, “Why? You don’t wanna pay for it?”

“Oh, I’ll pay for it,” he says. “I’m just thinking somebody will have to carry you home if you have another one.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love to carry her home,” Coyote chimes in, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. At least you think that’s Coyote. Things are starting to go a little blurry.

As you approach the bar, you say, a bite to your words, “I’ll make your dreams come true, then.” 

Penny is busy at the opposite end, so you order from a girl who seems a lot less interested in serving you than the group of aviators currently trying to get her attention. Which you can’t really blame her for.

From behind you, maybe-Coyote keeps going, “You should make some of his other dreams come true, too.”

Phoenix lands a well-placed elbow between his ribs. “Shut up, man. You’re being creepy.”

“I don’t sleep with drunk women,” Hangman says as the bartender deposits a dispassionately assembled Mojito in front of you. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

Your snort is decidedly unladylike, but you couldn’t care less. You’re so far gone. 

“You keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you act like one even once.” Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Also, I’m not drunk.”

You pull your drink towards you, the glass cold with the ice cubes swimming in it, and promptly spill a healthy stream across your own arm and the bartop.

“Sure you’re not,” Hangman agrees smoothly. He procures a stack of paper napkins from somewhere and starts dabbing at your elbow, soaking up the worst of it. You stare at his movement with your head spinning. Why is he being nice? “I’m not a gentleman in the bedroom, though, I’ll have you know.”

He winks at you, and that’s more like the nefarious Hangman you know. It lets you relax a little.

“Christ.” Phoenix looks like she might hurl. “You want to lay it on any thicker, Hang?”

He just shrugs, so casual about it all. You wonder if he’s ever been rattled by anything. If he’s ever felt as out of his depth as you do every time he enters a room. 

“Who doesn’t like it a little rough in the bedroom, Phoenix?”

You can’t believe he said that to her. Part of you expects Phoenix to roll her eyes and give him a piece of her mind, but she just grins, shaking her head.

“Me, actually,” she says. “Just leaves you sore. I prefer it slow.”

“Slow?” Hangman repeats. “You and Rooster would be a match made in heaven. Masters of the geriatric pace.”

“Who’s Rooster?” you ask, wondering if Hangman is trying to set Phoenix up with someone running a poultry farm.

Nobody answers your question.

“It’s been my experience,” Phoenix says, “that most guys only like it rough cause they have no idea how else to do it.”

Coyote laughs at that. It’s obviously meant to taunt Hangman, but he doesn’t react much beyond a tiny upward twitch of his mouth.

You’re left wondering if these are normal conversations people have with their friends. Are you just a prude? You feel like you’re going insane.

And then Bob, who has been quietly snacking on peanuts for most of the night, pipes up, “I think it just depends on your partner. You gotta listen to them.”

Hangman stares at him like he’s just revealed he likes to take his clothes off and perform an Irish jig on top of an aircraft every Sunday. “Am I just supposed to believe you’ve had sex with multiple partners?”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap Hangman’s chest. Admittedly, both the alcohol and the way your head is still reeling have the move lacking any real vigor, but it still leaves you a little stunned at yourself.

“Don’t be mean,” you say. His chest feels very firm beneath your palm, muscles hard and heartbeat steady. Then you realize you’re still touching him and withdraw your hand as if you’ve burned yourself.

Hangman is grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean.”

That almost makes you choke on your Mojito. 

“Right,” Coyote says. His teeth gleam white when he smirks at you. “So, how do you like it?”

You freeze. Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits.

“Oh, god, boys. Just leave her alone,” Phoenix sighs. She gets up to sling an arm over your shoulder. It’s a reassuring presence by your side, one that makes you feel a little less like you’re about to levitate off the face of the earth. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Hangman is staring right at you. He’s still smiling, but something in his eyes has shifted.

You can’t look away from him. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“I… I don’t…” you falter.

Across the distance between you, Hangman raises an eyebrow. “What are you, like a virgin?”

It hits you square in the chest.

You know you need to laugh it off, know you need to counter with another quip, another insult, another jab, but your mind is blank. Time seems to freeze for a moment. You can’t breathe.

Your eyes burn, and you realize with a sudden, horrible lurch that you’re going to cry, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Several emotions pass over Hangman’s face in quick succession. The glint is gone from his eyes now, replaced by something like genuine guilt. That’s how you know he was just joking around, but it doesn’t soften the blow at all.

Anger, humiliation, and, worst of all, the remnants of your earlier desire pump through your veins. You feel weak and tired and helpless. A snowglobe shattered on the floor. All of it hits you at once.

You’re painfully aware of all the eyes on you. You’re painfully aware you haven’t said a single thing in way too long.

Hangman says your name, his tone caught somewhere between concern and apology.

I can’t, you think. I just… can’t.

So you turn on your heel and all but sprint for the open doors.

Out back, the air has cooled down to a more bearable temperature, but it does nothing to calm you. Your skin feels several sizes too small, the world is tilting a little bit to the left, as if everything’s written in cursive. In your ears, your blood rushes like a roar.

You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life.

A few tiki torches light a path from the Hard Deck’s back entrance towards the sand of the beach. You follow almost blindly, stumbling down the two steps. The ocean stretches endless and dark blue in front of you. Your sandals fill with sand that scrapes against the soles of your feet.

You walk a few steps until you reach a weathered tool shed with the blue paint eroded by years of wind and salt spray. Only when you’ve found shelter behind it, when you know you’re hidden from view, do you allow yourself to cry.

They’re bitter tears. You’re embarrassed about your display earlier, about letting Hangman get to you, embarrassed because everybody saw. Embarrassed that you didn’t deny it when it isn’t even really true, not technically. Embarrassed that you’re twenty-three and practically a virgin, embarrassed that it matters to you. It shouldn’t matter.

Virginity is a social construct, you remind yourself, and then you just cry harder.

Most of all, you’re embarrassed because you want Hangman. 

It’s the first time you admit it, even to yourself, and the truth of it settles heavy in your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone as much as you want him, and you don’t even like the man. 

It’s ridiculous, humiliating, mortifying, and suddenly you wish you had stayed home tonight, had never come here in the first place.

And then he says your name.

The moonlight paints his hair a blueish shade of silver. He looks impossibly handsome, standing just a step or two away from you with his hands in his pockets, backlit by the flickering of the torches.

Immediately you straighten up and rub your cheeks to get rid of the tears. Your fingers come away stained black with the remnants of your mascara.

For a moment, you and Hangman just stare at each other. The distance between you gapes like an open wound, like a canyon, like an ocean.

Finally, he asks, “You okay?”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

He looks torn. His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t have to ask him to clarify. You know exactly what he means.

“I don’t know you,” you say quietly.

He makes a strange, strangled sound at the back of his throat, then buries his face in his hands for a second. When he re-emerges, he looks honestly distressed.

“If I had known,” he says softly, “I would have stopped being so aggressive.”

You don’t know how to tell him that that’s the opposite of what you want. You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t know what you want.

You don’t know how to tell him that you know exactly what you want.

Everything’s a mess.

Shrugging, you say, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” he repeats, disbelief in his voice. “Of course it matters. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

That makes you frown.

“I didn’t say you make me uncomfortable.”

Aggravated, sure. Annoyed, wound-up, frustrated. All of that. But uncomfortable? Never.

That gives him pause, but only for a moment. He goes on, “I shouldn’t have… it was too much. I’m sorry.”

You can’t explain any of this, but you want to. You wish you could just make him understand, but you can’t even make sense of yourself.

Your insides are all tangled.

“It’s not like… it’s not like I’ve never done anything,” you rush to explain. “I did sleep with someone when I was sixteen, but I just… and then there was always so much other stuff that I didn’t have time to date, and then other stuff happened, and I didn’t even want to date, so I just….”

At the look he gives you, you trail off.

“So you’re not a virgin, then?”

“Not… technically,” you confirm, then cringe at how ridiculous it all sounds.

He just stares at you.

“It… what does it even matter?” Suddenly, you’re angry. “Even if I was a virgin, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it. And it’s none of your business. Why do you even care?”

One of Hangman’s eyebrows raises. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin,” he says, voice perfectly calm. “I care that you’re comfortable.”

That staggers you. “I… why?”

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Because I happen to like you.”

Now you’re the one staring. 

That can’t be right. Hangman’s not supposed to like you, not when you’ve just established that you can’t stand him. Not when you’ve spent every night since you’ve met him listing all the reasons why you need to stay as far away from him as possible.

When you don’t answer, he starts talking again. “Why didn’t you just say you’re not a virgin in there?” he asks, jerking his head back in the general direction of the Hard Deck.

You shrug and look away. “I’m not… experienced.”

He waits for you to continue.

“It was just once, with my first boyfriend, and it wasn’t… I didn’t… well, after it was over, I never wanted to do it again.”

Hangman’s expression is unreadable. The breeze picks up, and you shiver, crossing your arms over your abdomen. 

“I’m not…” You swallow. “I’m not confident. I can’t talk about it the way you guys do. So easily.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard. “I’ll stop, then. This was too much. I’m sorry.”

But there’s something there, in the words. A challenge. He’s giving you a way out at the same time as he’s giving you an in.

The way he’s looking at you seems to say, Ball’s in your court now, sweetheart.

In your life, you’ve always taken the familiar path. You thought things through thoroughly, made decisions with your head and not your heart. You liked to be safe, too scared to step out of your comfort zone. And so the house with the blue door stayed a dream, one that eventually moved so far out of reach it lost any appeal it ever had.

But then you think of your life stuffed into a car. Arriving in an unfamiliar city and deciding to stay. Diving headfirst into the unknown.

If you have done it once, you tell yourself, there’s no reason you can’t do it again.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say, voice quiet, hands shaking. “I like it.”

It might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Being honest. Here in this moment, with him, bathed in moonlight that dips the worlds in shades of mercury.

It’s almost impossible to get the words out, and then they dangle awkwardly in the air between you. You feel exposed, stripped, flayed open in front of this man who is practically a stranger to you.

Over the beat of your heart hammering away in your chest, you can barely even hear the roar of the ocean.

And then Hangman steps closer to you, bridging that distance. His features are dipped in half-shadows, but you see his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“When I saw you for the first time,” he says, and his voice is husky, low, “in that little dress… I wanted to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there. With everyone watching.”

It knocks the air out of you. You let out a choked sound that might be the beginning of a gasp. A jolt goes through the core of you.

He comes even closer, and, instinctively, you stumble backward. He crowds you against the wall of the shed. The wood is rough and cold where it presses against your back.

The stupid nametag is right in front of you then, and it occurs to you suddenly that you don’t even know his first name.

“Look at me,” he says.

In spite of yourself, you listen immediately. There’s something in his voice, not just demanding but commandeering. You don’t think you could disobey him even if you wanted to.

And Hangman’s so close now. Close enough that you can see the specks of gold swimming in his eyes, close enough that you could probably see yourself reflected in them if it wasn’t so dark.

One of his hands is braced against the wood by your head, palm down, and the other goes to cup your cheek. Fingertips trace across the jut of your cheekbone, down, down, down over the planes of your face, avoiding your mouth to ghost toward your chin and then the line of your throat.

You don’t dare breathe.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly.

It’s such a stark contrast to his earlier words, so crude, that it leaves you light-headed.

You can smell him; over the lingering ashes of burnt-down bonfires, over the salt of the ocean, there’s the scent of his aftershave. Cinnamon and spice. You think you could get drunk on that smell.

“Hangman…” you whisper because you can’t think of something else to say for the life of you.

He shakes his head, tuts gently. “My name’s Jake.”

“Jake,” you repeat. It’s like you’re in a daze, dumb with the intensity of it all. If this night is giving you anything, it’s a severe case of whiplash.

He hums in response, eyelids going heavy. Lets his fingers trail from your throat, where your pulse is beating like a sledgehammer, down your chest, between your breasts, over the flimsy fabric of your dress. He pauses on your stomach, lets his fingers spread out like a starfish, and just watches for a moment as his hand moves with each breath you take.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, your thighs clench together, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, the skin just below the lines of your panties sticking together.

You don’t need to look at Hangman to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“It… no,” you admit hesitantly. You’re going to spontaneously combust, you just know it. “Just… myself.”

He grins at that, but it’s not a mean expression. “So you touch yourself?”

It’s so hard to swallow. Even harder to talk, to find words, even to form a coherent thought.

Jake leans closer still, so close his breath traces across your face. “Answer me.”

“Sometimes.” Your voice has gone so quiet you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t standing so close to you. Like he wants to climb into your skin.

You’re becoming painfully aware of all the points where he isn’t touching you. A minuscule but safe distance between your hips, your faces, your chests. That arm curving around you, braced against the wall. No point of contact except for the large hand on your abdomen.

You shudder.

“What do you think about? When you touch yourself, what do you think about?”

The muscles in his arm flex, straining against the fabric of his uniform, veins protruding blue through the skin, and it shouldn’t be this hot, but it is. You’re on fire and he isn’t even touching you, not really, but you’ve never been so turned on in your life, wound so tightly, a kite dancing higher and higher into the sky.

You shake your head quickly, unsure if it’s supposed to be an answer or just a way to get rid of the fog that’s descended on you.

Jake’s hand wanders a little lower, almost imperceptibly, just about half an inch, but you think your heart almost fails you.

“I…” you swallow again. Your mouth is dry, and your palms are sweating. Your core pulses with the sort of desire that’s impossible to ignore. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

God, if only you could be casual about this sort of thing. You wish you could say something sexy, something teasing, something that would make Jake feel even a fraction of what he’s making you feel. But you’re just you. Inexperienced, unsure even of what you want.

You choke up, and, to your mortification, tears pool in your eyes again.

“Shh,” Jake immediately shushes you, and his face is almost tender. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you something to think about.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, blinking up at him.

And then it’s back, that signature Hangman smirk, the same one you’ve wanted to slap off his face so many times, only it’s making you weak in the knees now, makes your lips part, makes you wish he would just touch you already.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight.”

It’s almost shameful how quickly you try to protest, really. If it hadn’t been for those five and a half Mojitos, you would have stuck your head into the sand right here.

Hangman laughs at you, the sound just a little mean. “You’re much too drunk, sweetheart.”

You suppose it doesn’t make much sense to argue. Now that you think about it, you really are drunk. The fuzzy, warm sort of drunk. Just on the right side of intoxicated, where everything feels packed in cotton, and nothing feels impossible.

Even that someone like Hangman might want to dirty talk to you behind the Hard Deck’s tool shed.

“Can you do something for me?” Jake asks.

You can just bite down on the anything that threatens to spill from your mouth the moment he’s uttered the question, and, god, what’s wrong with you? This is getting out of hand.

Dumbfounded, you nod silently.

He leans impossibly closer, his nose trailing along your jawline, and whispers, “The next time you touch yourself… When you’re alone, I want you to lie down on your bed. I want you to spread your legs, and I want you to touch your pretty little pussy for me.”

You clench your eyes shut, breath stuck somewhere in your throat, as Jake’s hand lifts from your stomach. He takes a fistful of your skirt and pulls it up, using his other hand to hold it away from your body. The cool breeze caresses your legs, but that’s not why you shiver.

His fingers slide along the inside of your thigh, from kneecap up to the very tops of them. You can’t breathe, can’t blink, can’t do anything but stand there and hope you won’t dissolve into a puddle.

“And when you fuck yourself,” he whispers, “I want you to think of me.” 

And then he touches his fingers to your core, over the lace of your panties.

If you weren’t so far gone, you think you’d never forgive yourself for your reaction. 

You all but squeak, back arching off the wall, pushing yourself into his palm, mouth dropping open as pure heat spreads through you, like an ache, like a tightening at your very center.

“Jesus,” Jake says, and his voice sounds breathless. “You’ve soaked these through, sweetheart.”

It’s the first indication that he’s affected by this, too, that you’re not the only one impacted, and somehow that’s enough to make you want him even more.

You wonder what it would be like to get him off. What he would look like, sound like. Taste like.

Your exhale is a tiny, shuddering thing. 

“Can you do that for me?” he wants to know. “Touch yourself for me like I asked?”

“I…” You think you would have agreed if he had asked you to lasso him down the moon.

Anything you say, Hangman. Anything you want. Just keep touching me. Please.

“Yes,” you agree. “Yeah, I… okay.”

“Good girl,” he says. His lips press to the side of your throat just once, right where your pulse is pumping at a rapid pace.

And then he steps away, fingers gone from your panties, mouth gone from your neck.

The loss of him leaves you reeling, dizzy, plastered to the wall like roadkill.

Even Hangman looks a little disheveled, but it's minimal comfort.

Again, you feel on the verge of tears.

Hangman clears his throat and asks, “Do you have a ride home?”

It takes an uncomfortable amount of time for the question to even register. You just stare at him at first, blinking owlishly. 

You barely even remember your own name. How are you supposed to answer this?

“I… Uber,” you say.

It’s not even a complete sentence, no verb at all, but it seems enough for Hangman. 

He nods once. Then he takes a moment just to watch you.

Finally, he says, “I changed my mind about the dress.” 

He takes a step back to admire you head to toe. As he looks at you, the torches reflect in his eyes until it looks like they’re gleaming. You’ve never felt so exposed in your life, and it makes you squirm.

You’re still so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been, and you’d do anything for him to touch you. Slide his fingers into you and fuck you right here, behind Penny’s bar, out on the beach where anyone might see. Think you might just die if he doesn’t.

Jake reaches once more for the skirt of your dress, but this time he doesn’t pull it up. Instead, he just lets his fingers dance through the folds once, the touch featherlight. Just a whisper of his digits across your thigh. You barely feel it.

You’re going to shake apart right here and now.

“I think this is my favorite after all,” he says, grins that Hangman grin, and then he’s gone.

You’re left leaning against the shed, breathless, panting, head and heart a mess. Alone, as you stare out at the white foam cresting on the waves, wondering what the fuck just happened.

read part ii

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[gryffindormarveltwilight]

All We Need - Part 6 - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: Here is part 6! It may be a while before part 7 but I will try my hardest to get it up as soon as possible. As usual any feedback or request please let me know x

Masterlist

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Naval inaccuracies, Medical inaccuracies, Mentions of Death, Mentions of the Mission from the Movie.

Jakes POV

I couldn’t believe I was sitting here again, next too a hospital bed but this time it was my best friend not my daughter. I look at her face as she lays there cuts on her face and eyes closed the past 3 hours running through my head like a horror movie.

“No, i didn’t see a shoot, send a rescue team control, Athena is down.”

I felt my heart plummet at Coyotes words, they hadn’t seen a shoot, Athena was gone, i was broken out of my trance by Rooster punching the wall and Fanboy dragging him out tears streaming down both there faces.

“Return to base, recovery team has been deployed.”  I feel frozen still staring at the radio Payback taps me on the shoulder and gets me to stand and we head to the locker room where Rooster Fanboy Phoenix Bob and Coyote are all sitting on the benches tears streaming down their faces. I nearly fall over as Phoenix jumps up and runs to give me a hug which i return. We all take a seat sitting in silence for what felt like an hour before Harvard crashes through the door.

“They found her.” He says out of breath and all our heads shoot up to stare at him. “Guys, shes alive!” 

We had never moved so quick across base to the hospital where we were greeted with Ice Sarah Penny Mav and Athenas parents all with tears. I stumble back into Rooster thinking she had taken a turn for the worst when Y/M/N came up and wrapped me in a hug.

“She is gonna be okay Jake, they said there is bruising but no breaks which is a miracle considering how late they think she open the parachute they just have to wait for her to wake up to test for a concussion.” I make the hug a little tighter at the news she is going to be okay. 

“She got her shoot open” I whisper slightly relieved it wouldnt be the first time a pilot has gone down and the other pilots just hadnt seen it i felt Athenas mum nod before looking me in the eyes. 

“Of course she did Jake but wouldnt be her if she hadnt scared us into thinking she hadnt”

“Family of Y/N Benjamin?” The doctor yells coming into the waiting room and we all turn to look at her.

“She has been moved to a room, and should be just fine, back up and flying I imagine with the next day or two. You can go and see her now.” Everyone nods following Athenas parents to the room where she was laying still unconscious. Once everyone saw her they started filing out most saying they would come back when she was awake to see her until it was just me and her parents.

“I will leave you two with her can you call me when she wakes up.” I didn’t let them respond before walking out of the room when I hear a voice behind me.

“Are you really going to leave?” I spin to see Y/M/N standing behind me.

“The doctor said only family was allowed to stay.”

“And what is it that you think you are Jake?”

“I didn’t want to intrude I know she must have scared both of you.”

She walks up to me placing a hand on my cheek.

“She did, but we didn’t listen to her go down, I really think she would like you to be there when she wakes up.”

“I can’t I need to pick up…”

“Daisy is fine she is with Amelia at the moment and Tom and Sarah are going to bring her here when she wakes up.”

“She nearly died.” I say in a whisper tears streaming down my face.

“But she didn’t Jake, she alright you heard the Doc she will be back flying in no time.”

“That is what scares me, it means she will still fly this mission, we might still lose her.” I lift my head to look at Y/M/N whose eyes are glistening with tears.

“I know sweetheart but we could lose any of you every time you get in those planes, its her job and she is stubborn like her father”

“How are you not scared that she might not come back.”

“I am terrified that she won’t, I always am and this mission has me more terrified than ever because I have 3 children who I love dearly flying it.” I tilt my head in confusion. I knew she was talking about Y/N and Rooster.

“I love you as a son as much as I love Bradley as a son. I am scared for you and him as well. Now go sit beside my daughter she will be a lot happier to see you when she wakes up than me and her dad.” I nod and head back to the room where Y/D/N is sitting and i move to the chair on the other side of the bed and grab her had squeezing it tightly.

I am broken out of my thoughts when I feel a squeeze in my hand and bolt upright to see Athenas eyes flutter open.

“Ouch” she whispers hoarsely and I let out a snort.

Y/N POV

“Trust you to be unconscious for 3 hours and wake up saying ouch.” Jake says with a small laugh under his breath

“Jake,” 

“How you feeling Peaches?”

“Like I just fell out of the sky.” There was a laugh that comes from door way and I look over Jake to see Y/D/N and Ice.

“Sweetheart, you did fall out of the sky.” Y/D/N spoke all moving further into the room. “Dad, Uncle Ice where are Mom and Aunt Sarah?”

“They are in the cafeteria with Daisy and Maverick, they will be up shortly.” I nod and look at Jake who is still staring at me tears welling up in his eyes by the second. I gave his hand a quick squeeze.

“So how close was it?” I whisper, I could have sworn I heard Jake mumble ‘too close’ under his breath but Ice spoke louder.

“The other pilots couldn’t see your shoot, we all thought you were gone. When they found you, you were unconscious but obviously alive. Gave us all one hell of a scare.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, we are all glad you are okay.” Dad says before I hear the sound of small footsteps enter the room.

“Mama!” Daisy yells and jumps onto the bed causing me to wince slightly as she wraps her arms around my ribs, confirming there was rising from the shoot.

“Daisy be careful.” Jake says as he goes to pull Daisy off.

“She is fine Jake,” He looks concerned so I grab his hand again, “Hey, I am okay, I promise.” He nods and squeezes my hand as Mum and Aunt Sarah walk further in the room also checking on how I am going. After about an hour the doctor came in and ran some final tests before telling me that I was going to be discharged. Everyone starts to file out of the room after giving me careful tight hugs until it is just myself, Jake and Daisy.

“Mama Thena, come home?” She says with a smile and eyes glistening with tears I bend down to meet her eye level Jake moving so his hand was in the missile of my shoulders .

“Yeah baby, we are going home.” Her smile becomes wider making me smile and pull her into a hug before releasing her and standing up.

“Come on Daisy, we need to get to the car so we can go home.” Jake says picking her up and placing his hand on the small of my back leading us towards the door of the room and to the reception desk I walk forward slightly to speak with the doctor.

“You are all clear to leave ma’am, all the paper work is finalised, just remember if you can try to stay out of the plane for a couple of days. Try your hardest to take it easy.”

“Thanks Doc, I will keep that in mind.” I say with a nod before walking to Jake explaining what the doctor had just said.

On the car ride home I sent a group text to the squad giving them an update on how I was going. Other than the occasional question from Daisy which we would both answer it was quiet, and I let out a small sigh as we pulled into the driveway. Jake gets out of the car and opens my door before moving to the back door to get Daisy who had fallen asleep not that long ago, as he picks her up and locks the car I move towards the house front door to unlock it. I open the door as Jake follows behind, tilting his head towards Daisy’s room, I follow them down the hallway stopping in front of my bedroom door as I watch Jake walk through Daisy’s door. I finally walk into my room and through to the bathroom and took of my shirt off, I turn to look in the mirror and look at the bruising around my ribs from the pull of the ejection I also inspect the bruising on my shoulder and cuts on my face. I hear a quiet knock on the door and grab one of Jakes old shirts that was hanging on the back of my door to cover up the bruising before opening the door to see Jake standing there. 

“I just wanted to check on you before we went to bed.”

“I’m okay Jake you heard the doctor, just a few cuts and bruises, I didn’t even have a concussion.” Jakes nods, “Do you want to stay in here tonight?” He nods again and moves to what has quickly become his side of the bed, so quickly I don’t see the tears in his eyes. I turn the light off and head over to the bed, Jake rolls over to pull me into his chest but stops out of fear of hurting me. Instead of saying anything I grab his hand that is hovering over my waist and move closer into his chest.

“I am not so breakable Jake, I promise.”

“You nearly were today.” I hear him say with a sniff I grab his hand and hold it tightly as we both drift off to sleep. I woke up a few times through the night when I would accidentally knock my bruises, however I was lucky to not startle Jake who still had hold of me. 

My alarm clock went off at 0530 as it does every morning and I felt Jake stir next to me as I sat up. 

“What are you doing?” “Going to have a shower and get ready for work.” That seemed to grab Jakes attention as he sat upright.

“You are NOT going into work.”

“Yes Jake, I am I need to be there, Doc said I cannot fly but I can still train you guys from the classroom.” Jake didn’t respond and just got up from the bed and walked out. After getting ready I walked out to find Jake, Daisy and my Mom at the kitchen table. Jake looked up quickly and then turned away as soon as I made eye contact. 

“Jake, I will meet you on base, I need to debrief with Cyclone and Warlock after yesterday.” I don’t give him time to answer as I walk out the door and too may car. As I arrive on base I head straight to Cyclones office where I see him Warlock and Mav waiting inside. I knock on the door and wait to hear cyclone telling me to come in.

“Athena, thank you for getting her early how are you after yesterday?”

“Fine, thank you sir, ready to be back in the air.” He nods.

“The mission has been moved up we are leaving tomorrow morning, you will need to select the teams once we are aboard.” I nod as I glance at Maverick who is also wearing a nervous look.

“Further, we are changing the mission parameters.”

“Sir, we can’t if we do our planes won’t stand a chance.”

“It is a risk.”

“Sir with all  due respect is it a risk you are willing to take you will loose 6 of your best pilots.”

“We are risking them if they cannot fly the mission with it’s current parameters.”

“Sir,,,”

“Athena, this is an order that is not up for debate. Dismissed.”

“Yes Sir.” I say as I turn to leave the room Mav following behind me. “Mav, they cannot change the parameters if they do no one will come home.”

“You heard them Athena, orders are orders.”

“Bullshit Mav when have you ever been one to follow orders.”

“I cannot disobey, if I do not even Ice would have the power to keep me from being discharged.”

“You may not be able to do anything Mav. But I sure as hell can.” I say with a smirk.

“I don’t like that look Athena.”

“Well Mav it is the only one I got.” With that I turn and walk away.

Jakes POV

We are all gathered in the class room waiting for Mav and Athena to arrive, chatting amongst ourselves, I know she thinks I am mad at her and partly I am her complete disregard for the fact that she nearly died yesterday has me on edge. Suddenly the class room doors open and Cyclone walks into the room all of us standing to attention as he does Warlock Mav and Hondo take a seat at the back of the class room. Cyclone nods for all of us to sit down and starts explaining that there are new mission parameters. We all look at each other nervously a few times butting in to ask why this was happening when suddenly the screens behind him started flashing that there was a plane in the air.

“Who the hell is that?” Cyclone says.

“Athena to Range Control, Entering point Alpha, confirm green range.” I look across at Rooster who is wearing the same shocked look as me then I look back at Mav who is wearing a grin of pride.

“Uhh Athena, Range Control, green range is confirmed, I don’t see you scheduled for an event today.”

“Well I am going anyway.” I look across at Coyote who is also smirking as I hear Phoenix whisper a quite nice under her breath. I look around and everyone except myself and Cyclone look happy about what she is doing. Then her voice breaks me out of my thoughts 

“Setting time to target 2 mins 15 seconds.”

“2:15, that is impossible.” I hear Payback say in disbelief.

“Not when you fly like Athena.” I say at the same time as Maverick.

“Athena is inbound.” Suddenly the room is dead silent as we watch the screen, keeping a close eye on the timer and on the picture of the jet, I can hear her breathing heavily through the radio and grunting every now and then on the sharp turns probably as a result of the belt against her bruises. As the timer hits 30 seconds and she goes to pop up we all start moving forward on our chairs. I see Bob and Phoenix stand as she gets target lock, I start to get more nervous as I see she is pulling over 9gs on the pop up. With 2 seconds left the clock stop confirming a direct hit, with that we all jump out of our chairs, and we hear a few holy shits, I spin to see Maverick smiling and even warlock does a small fist pump.

“Maverick.” Cyclone says in a stern voice making all of us go silent and look at him, “Continue with the old mission parameters. I need to speak to Lieutenant Commander Benjamin.” Maverick stands and walks to the front and nods as Cyclone leaves the room.

“That can’t be good.” Coyote says to me, then Maverick starts splitting us into pairs to fly the course on old parameters, stating we only have 24hrs to get this right.

Y/N’s POV

I smile as I land my plane and jump down onto the tarmac, when I hear footsteps behind me.

“You are damn lucky that worked Athena.”

“I know, but he was going to change the parameters and no one including me would have come home. How made do you think Cyclone will be.”

“Made until he sees that you did somewhat have permission for that.” I smile and finally face Uncle Ice who is wearing a huge grin. We suddenly turn as we here Cyclone call out behind us.

“Well Athena, you are lucky you are team leader or I would have you up on charges, actually I may still put you up on charges for stealing a plane.” He yells before stopping and stuttering slightly, “I-Iceman, I apologise I didn’t see you there sir.”

“It’s quite alright Cyclone, but Athena did have permission to do that flight test.”

“Sir, whose permission?”

“Mine.” 

“Yes sorry Sir, I didn’t know.” With that he turns to walk away.

“Thank you for having my back Uncle Ice.”

“You didn’t give me much choice sweetheart you stormed into my office and demanded a plane and that I told Cyclone I gave you permission, and I honestly think you are scaring then your mother and my wife combined.”

“Thank you anyway, the squad needed to see it, they need to be ready we leave tomorrow.”

“Do you know who you are selecting.”

“Yes sir I am going to tell them this afternoon, that way they have tonight to let it sink in.” Ice nods at my response.

We make our way into the classroom where we are greeted by Maverick wearing the biggest grin. “Don’t you smile Pete, I know damn well you gave her that idea.”

“I did no such thing, Sir.” Ice rolled his eyes at the response, “How did she get you to sign off?”

“Have you ever been on the end of her wrath?” Mav shakes his head “Well that is how, she is down right scary our girl.” Maverick. Hondo and I laugh at Ices response as Maverick begins to go into detail about how the pilots are going up in teams. 

By the end of the day, every single pilot had successfully completed the course. Apparently my motivation flight worked. As they all start to gather into the classroom most of them give me a pat on the back or a hug congratulating me on my flight, after all while I may have convinced Ice to let me fly once after that I was confined to the class room on ‘doctors orders.’

“Please everyone take a seat.” I start as everyone takes a seat, “As you know we leave tomorrow at 0600 sharp, because of that I have made the choice to select the teams today in order for them to prepare. The two foxtrot teams will be Phoenix and Bob, Payback and Fanboy.”

“And your wingman?” Mav asks as I take a breath.

“Rooster.” I see Jake and Jays face drop slightly and I can tell they are disappointed. “Everyone is dismissed for the day we will see you tomorrow.” With that everyone stands up and leaves the room nodding as they do. 2 hours later I am walking through the door of the house where I am greeted with Jake on the couch slumped forward.

“Jake you okay?”

“Why would you pick Rooster? I should be up there with you?”

“I couldn’t have you up there.”

“Why I am the best pilot there next to you.”

“I know, but what about Daisy if this mission were to fail with both of us on it. I can’t have you up there because I know that you will not leave me behind.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, but neither would any of the team.”

“Jake, if something goes wrong, Rooster will follow orders so will the others you wouldn’t and I cannot risk both of us not coming home to Daisy.”

“But you will risk you not coming home to her!” He yelled.

“YES JAKE!”

“WHY?!”

“…because I am replaceable to you and her.”

Taglist: @dory-98 @djs8891 @brooke-stinson

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Benjamin Effect - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!OC (Kate Benjamin-Mitchell)

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: (Childhood) Enemies to Lovers; Mentions of Goose and Carole; Angst; Feelings of Abandonment; Tension; Strained Relationships; Daddy Issues; Questionable Decisions; Age-Gap (about eight years), but Everyone is Very Much Adult; Female OC with Physical Description

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: With Maverick and Penny's wedding drawing closer, Rooster is called upon to convince Maverick and Penny's first daughter, Kate, to come around to the idea. Of course, Rooster and Kate have their own history to work through and Kate is definitely not going to make it easy for him.

Note: Amelia is Maverick's biological daughter in this too. Kate is about eight years younger than Rooster, but is very much an adult. She's in her late 20s and Rooster is in his mid/late 30s.

Part 2

Master List

Rooster should have known that Maverick had an ulterior motive for taking him out to dinner.

If Maverick wanted to just hang out and catch up without any additional bullshit, he would have simply set up the grill and they would have shared a few beers outside on the back porch. But buying him dinner at a restaurant was a move that Maverick played when Bradley was young and easily swayed by the promise of French fries and ice cream sundaes. And, apparently, now too.

“You want me to do what?” Rooster asked his godfather, staring over at Maverick incredulously.

“I need your help in getting Kate to talk to me again,” Maverick explained casually.

“Kate? Your daughter Kate?”

Kate, who went by Katie as a kid, was Maverick and Penny’s daughter from one of their previous will-they-won’t-they situations. She was a surprise addition to the family and a near-death sentence for Maverick when Admiral Benjamin, Penny’s dad, found out about her. But by the time that Kate was born, Penny and Maverick were both completely dedicated to co-parenting.

So, why did Maverick need his help with getting Kate to talk to him again? And why did Maverick think that Bradley of all people would be a good candidate for that job?

Bradley and Kate were never close.

There was several years difference between them—probably eight or so, if Bradley did the math right. And Bradley thought that she was a whiny brat whenever their paths crossed as kids. She was always upset whenever Maverick and Bradley did something together without her and she complained until she got her way, which Maverick always gave her in the end.

The last time that Bradley saw Kate, it was at his mom’s funeral. And he hadn’t heard from her since the paper pulling incident. That was eighteen, nearly nineteen, years ago now. For fuck’s sake, he just found out that she went by Kate now instead of Katie.

“Yeah, you remember her, right?” Maverick asked, folding his arms underneath him.

“I mean, yeah, but why do you need my help?” Rooster inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“She doesn’t . . .” Maverick started to explain but then he trailed off. Maverick sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, before turning back to Rooster. “I wasn’t the best dad for her. I wasn’t around and I didn’t make the right efforts when I needed to because I got caught up in my own demons and fears. And she—and I understand why—hasn’t forgiven me for any of it.”

“I’m still missing the part where I fit into this whole scheme,” Rooster replied honestly.

“I’m hoping that since the two of us started to reconcile and address what happened in the past with our relationship, that you could help me do the same with Kate. To at least help me show her that I’ve changed and I’m taking my personal relationships seriously.”

“So, you want me to help you steal an F-14 to patch things up with your daughter?” Rooster asked sarcastically, earning a sigh from Maverick.

“No, I just . . . maybe just talk with her about what we worked through. I’m prepared to do all of the talking and amending on my own, but I need help convincing her to talk to me in the first place,” Maverick explained softly to Rooster. “She just shuts down every time that I try to make amends or bring up the past.” 

“So, that’s why you took me out here?” Rooster asked, glancing down at his plate. “To try and bribe me to help your daughter talk to you again?”

“You love the French fries here,” Maverick pointed out, earning an incredulous look from Rooster.

“I did when I was nine,” Rooster corrected Maverick.

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, trying to get the conversation back on track, “will you help me? Or at least just try? If she doesn’t come around to you, then she doesn’t come around to you, and that’s fine. I just . . . I want to try to make things right with her. Before Penny and I get married.”

Rooster could hear the sincerity dripping from every word that Maverick spoke. And he recognized the borderline desperation in Maverick’s eyes. And as Maverick’s best man, this seemed to fit into his promise to help Maverick with wedding preparations.

And maybe Rooster did really like the fries here and the special sauce that they always came with.

“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” Rooster groaned, lowering his head for a moment. “But, sure. I’ll try and help you. I’ll be your wingman with this.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” Maverick stated sincerely, smiling softly. “It means the world to me, really. And Penny too.”

“Can it count as your wedding present then?”

~~~~~

Kate Benjamin wasn’t exactly the warmest or friendliest person by her own admission.

She took after her grandfather, retired Admiral John “Pike” Benjamin, more than her mom in that regard. Penny could talk and comfort any person off the street. And Penny gave people the benefit of the doubt, believing that people changed and second chances were only fair.

Kate did not share her mother’s forgiving disposition.

People could change. People did change. But that didn’t mean that Kate was willing to forgive, forget, and sing kumbaya with them afterwards. Second chances were earned, not given. And Pete Mitchell was on his seventh or so chance in Kate Benjamin’s book.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so suddenly interested in settling down,” Kate complained over the phone to Amelia as she sat in rush hour traffic.

“He’s retired now,” Amelia pointed out, sitting up in her bedroom.

“So, he’s bored? That’s why he wants to marry Mom?” Kate huffed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Bullshit, is what I say.”

“He seems really sincere this time,” Amelia replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Amelia didn’t respond for a moment and Kate could hear a background conversation between Amelia and their mom. Kate waited patiently, staring at the same blue Honda that she’d been stuck behind for what felt like hours when Amelia returned to the call.

“Mom wants to know how far you are from home.”

“Around forty-five minutes. Give or take. Are Grammie and Pop there?”

“Yeah, they flew in this morning. And Maverick and Rooster are joining us for dinner.”

“Rooster?” Kate repeated, clearly confused. “Who the hell is Rooster?”

“Bradley,” Amelia translated for her sister.  

“So, they’re talking again?” Kate muttered gruffly.

Kate remembered Bradley. She remembered how he called her a brat. And she remembered telling him that his name was stupid in retaliation. And Kate stood by that sentiment. ‘Bradley Bradshaw’ was one of the most ridiculous names that she had ever heard in her life. It wasn’t quite Philip Philips, but it was damn close.

“How in the hell did he get . . . never mind, because I don’t care,” Kate cut herself off.

“Mom also told me to tell you to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Ames,” Kate insisted innocently, though her smirk betrayed her words. “Tell Mom that everything’s going to be fine.”

“I will. See you soon, Kate.”

“Bye, Ames.”

Amelia hung up the phone and Kate switched back to the radio while she inched through traffic.

So much for a quiet family dinner with her mom, sister, and grandparents after a long week of work. But she knew that she was going to have to get used to Maverick —if he wanted the title ‘Dad,’ he was going to have to earn it—and Rooster too.

~~~~~

Rooster sat in Penny’s backyard with Amelia, Grammie Joan, and Pike, which is what everyone except for his immediate family called him, while Maverick and Penny went to pick up dinner.

“You’re a Lieutenant Commander?” Pike asked Rooster, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir. Got promoted after that mission with Mav.”

“A well-earned one then,” Pike mused grimly, glancing over at the Kawasaki. “Maverick told me what he could about the mission. You’re either really smart, or have a lot of dumb luck, kid.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Pike echoed, nodding along. “And you just transferred back to North Island then?”

“Yeah, I was stationed out at Oceana most recently, but after the mission, I thought that it was finally time to return to the West Coast, so I put in the request and it was approved. And now I’m working as an instructor out here.”

“How many years are left on your contract?”

“Two and a half,” Rooster replied, doing the math in his head.

“And do you think that you’ll stay on after that’s up?”

“Don’t know,” Rooster answered honestly. “I’ll have to see what life looks like then.”

“Smart. Focus on what’s right in front of you,” Pike agreed, nodding curtly.

“Kate’s home!” Amelia exclaimed when she spotted Kate’s car pull into the driveway.

Without another word, Amelia stood up from the table and hurried around the gate. Grammie Joan smiled when she heard the two sisters reunite from the other side of the fence and shuffled down to Rooster and Pike’s side of the table.

“Have you met our Kate?” Grammie Joan asked Rooster, sitting beside her husband.

“Back when we were both kids, but not for a long time,” Rooster answered honestly.

“She’s grown into quite the firecracker,” Pike chuckled, waiting patiently for his two granddaughters to return. “Her mother says that she takes after me. Maverick seemed to agree with Penny, though he didn’t say it to my face.”

“I think that he still gets flashbacks about the ass chewings you gave him in the eighties and nineties,” Rooster joked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Which time?” Pike asked, seemingly amused.

“Oh, be nice, John. You know that if Kate sees you giving Maverick a hard time, she’s going to give him an even worse time,” Grammie Joan replied knowingly, shooting her husband a look. “And I’m not sure that Maverick can survive the two of you at the same time.”

“Well, if he’s going to finally marry into this family, he’s going to have to learn,” Pike pointed out gruffly.

“Don’t hold onto the past, John. That flyover business was so long ago,” Joan dismissed with a wave of her hand. “It was before the girls were born. Let it go.”

“Rooster?” Pike asked, out to prove a point.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you ever done a high-speed pass over an air traffic control tower?”

“Never as the pilot, no.”

“What about a high-speed pass over an admiral’s daughter? You’ve ever done that, Rooster?”

“No, sir.”

“See?” Pike told his wife, who shook her head at him again. “Not normal conduct.”

“Oh, get over it, John.”

The back door opened, cutting off Pike and Joan’s back and forth. Amelia trotted down the stairs first with Kate Benjamin—or Katie Mitchell, which is what she went by the last time that Bradley was around her—close behind.

But the woman that stepped out of the house was not anything like Rooster expected.

Kate seemed to be a perfect mix of her parents. Her hair was dark, like Maverick’s, but wavy, like Penny’s. Her smile was far too mischievous to come from Penny, but Kate walked with Penny’s seemingly flawless grace. And when they locked eyes, Rooster realized that Kate seemed to have inherited her mom’s captivating gaze.

He subconsciously straightened his back a bit as Kate walked past him.

Kate greeted her grandmother first with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before greeting her grandfather in the same fashion. And when she straightened up, the breeze blew the scent of her shampoo—which was something sweet and flowery—in his direction and let the subtle natural highlights in her hair to catch the sunlight.

A sharp pinch in Rooster’s side caused him to whirl around to spot an annoyed Amelia.

“Stop staring at my sister like that,” Amelia stated quietly, looking disgusted. “We eat out here.” 

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Amelia replied, ending the argument.

“How was the drive?” Pike asked Kate, who missed all of Rooster and Amelia’s conversation.

“Not too bad. Traffic, but what else did I expect?” Kate joked, moving to take the seat across from Amelia. “How was your flight in?”

“Not too bad.”

“Maverick was a gentleman and picked us up from the airport,” Joan replied with a kind smile.

Joan was clearly trying to put in a good word for Maverick with Kate, probably under the direction of Penny. Rooster, however, didn’t miss the grimace on Kate’s face at the mention of Maverick. Joan simply smiled wider and gestured over to Rooster.

“And you remember Bradley, right, Kate?��

“Yes,” Kate replied, reluctantly turning to Bradley. “Though I hear that you go by Rooster now.”

“I do,” Rooster agreed, nodding along. “And I hear that you go by Kate now.”

“I do,” Kate returned, looking bored with him.

“You heading home to your apartment tonight?” Pike questioned his granddaughter, ending Kate and Rooster’s staring contest.

“No, I’ll stay the night. We’re supposed to do some errands tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

“Have you met any nice men recently, Kate?” Grammie Joan asked her eldest granddaughter.

Kate immediately grimaced at her grandmother’s question. Amelia snuck a giggle until Kate kicked her shin under the table.

“No, Grammie.”

“Don’t pressure her, Joan,” Pike grunted, leaning back in his chair. “Better that she’s single and working hard at a good paying job than wasting her time with some no-good dumbass freeloader.”

“Yes, but this wedding planning has me thinking about the girls’ weddings,” Joan replied wistfully.

“Here we go,” Amelia murmured under her breath.

“One wedding at a time, Grammie,” Kate reminded Joan gently. “How is the wedding planning going around here anyways?"

"It's not,” Amelia answered, sharing an amused look with Rooster. “Mom’s mostly busy with the bar and Maverick doesn’t want to make any decisions without her approval. And he’s still trying to move all of his stuff over here.”

“He’s living here now?” Kate asked, immediately on the defensive. “At the house?”

“No, he’s rooming with Rooster for now.”

“Oh.” Kate’s gaze flickered over to Rooster, causing him to subconsciously straighten up again. She seemed to study him for a moment before asking, “How’s that going then?”

“It’s going well,” Rooster replied, trying to keep Maverick in a good light.

“So, he’s living in Miramar full time then?” Kate asked, still analytical.

“Mostly. He has the hangar out in Nevada, but he’s here more.”

“Lovely,” Kate replied dryly.

“Speaking of Maverick, I believe that’s them,” Pike stated, glancing down the driveway.

Kate got up and headed inside and Amelia followed after her sister. Penny and Maverick stepped inside and Kate hurried into her mom’s waiting arms. Penny squeezed Kate to her chest while Maverick stood behind them, smiling at their interaction.

“Oh, I’m so happy that you’re back home,” Penny breathed out.

“I’m not that far away, Mom,” Kate reminded Penny softly. “But it’s nice to be home.”

“How was the drive?” Penny asked Kate, letting go of her eldest daughter.

“Not too bad.”

“Good.” Penny turned to Maverick, who was clearly waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from his daughter. “Aren’t you going to greet your dad, Kate?”

“Maverick,” Kate greeted him stiffly, unwilling to call him ‘Dad.’

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Maverick returned quietly, clearly subdued.

“Likewise.”

“Help him with the food, please, Kate,” Penny told her eldest daughter.

Kate took one of the bags from Maverick and quickly moved to put distance between them. Penny and Maverick shared a look before following Kate out into the backyard again. Amelia carried out some plates and utensils while Kate pulled out the takeout boxes.

“Amelia, can you grab the wooden spoons for the salad?” Penny questioned, glancing over the table.

“I’ll do it,” Rooster offered immediately, standing up. “You need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re all set. Thank you, Rooster,” Penny replied with a smile.

Rooster nodded, glanced over at Kate, before he headed inside. Maverick was in the kitchen, putting away some extra plates and pulling a few drinks out of the fridge.

“How did it go with Kate?” Rooster asked, opening drawers to look for wooden spoons. Maverick sighed, causing Rooster to pick his head up. “That bad, huh?”

“Could have been better,” Maverick sighed, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “But I suppose that it could have been much worse too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Rooster glanced out the window, watching as Kate talked with her sister and her mom. Catching himself staring at her again, Rooster turned back to Maverick, who seemed to be unaware of Rooster’s sudden staring problem.

And that was good. For Rooster’s personal safety.

“Did she at least acknowledge your existence?”

“Only when prompted.” Maverick shook his head at himself. “I guess I’ll have to just keep trying to make things right with her.”

“I don’t think that she’ll make it easy for you.”

“No, she won’t. But I’m not going to let that stop me.” Maverick turned around and squeezed Rooster’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “Thanks again for trying to help me out. With making amends with her. I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course, Mav,” Rooster replied quietly.

They walked outside together to join the Benjamin family for dinner. Rooster ended up seated next to Kate somehow but they didn’t really acknowledge each other. It wasn’t until the wedding got brought up by Joan that they even looked at each other.

Well, that Kate looked over at Rooster. He still seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

“So, you’re Maverick’s best man then, Rooster?” Joan asked kindly, causing Rooster to nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And Kate and Amelia are both the maid of honor?”

“Yeah, we’re sharing the position,” Kate agreed, sharing a glance with her sister.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to do to help because of school and everything,” Amelia replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“I can handle most of it,” Kate insisted, looking down at her plate. “The only big thing that I should need your physical presence for is the maid of honor dresses.”

“Either way, it seems that the five of you will be spending a lot of time together over the next few months,” Joan stated with a kind smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rooster spoke up, earning a sharp, curious look from Kate. “And to getting to know you guys more.”

Kate tilted her chin up a bit, challenging as she met Rooster’s gaze again. Amelia glanced between the two of them and stuck her tongue out. Penny and Maverick also shared a look, but Maverick signaled to Penny that it would be fine.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Kate replied dryly.

Part 2

[crazyk-imagine]

The Good, The Bad, and The Working on It Prequel

Pairing: (Future Stepdad) Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Mom!Reader  

Characters: (Future Stepdad) Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Mom!Reader, Penny Benjamin, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Javy “Coyote” Machado, Cody and Marty (bartenders)

Briefly mentioned: Amelia Benjamin, Maryanne and Edwin (the kiddos), Robert “Bob” Floyd

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of past issues with the other parent, brief thoughts of harm coming to a person, Edwin is a mama’s boy

Word Count: 3,080

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sigh, your social battery is running low. You feel like you’ve been at the hard deck for hours when it’s only been, maybe two. You don’t want to look at the clock and get annoyed when you see what time it is. 

It’s just one of those days when all you want to do is go home and take a nap with the kids (even though your girl, Maryanne probably wouldn’t stay still long enough to enjoy a nap). You know for a fact your boy, Edwin would want nothing more than to nap with you (oh, how you love your mama’s boy). 

The door slams shut; howls of laughter fill the nearest corner. 

You take a deep breath and put on your best customer service smile and make sure your voice doesn’t waver, not wanting anyone to know how tired you are. As you refill another customer's drink, you glance around the room not letting your smile fall. ‘The pilots are here. Great.’  

Penny stands beside you, also watching the group pilots. “You ready for the next rush?” she asks. 

“As ready as I can be, Penny my dear.” 

“Someone’s tired.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You only use that nickname when you’re tired. Do you want to take your break now?” 

You turn to her, “and leave you alone? No, I’d rather not have feeling bad checked off on what I feel today.” 

“It won’t be that bad. Plus, we have Marty and Cody working again which is why,” she leans closer to you, whispering, “we haven’t had to do any of the heavy lifting.” 

That gets you to crack a smile. “Okay, okay. After they get their drinks, I’ll head into the back and start doing inventory, yeah?” 

“That’s not a break.” 

“It could be considered a break to some.” 

“I’m not a part of that group.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Ladies.” You two turn to see Penny’s boy toy (you like to tease her from time to time), Pete sitting there with a smile stretching across his lips. 

“Pete.” “Pete.” The two of you say with two obvious tones. 

“Penny,” he nods before glancing over at you. “You doing, okay?” 

You sigh, throwing the rag on the bar top. “Why does everybody keep asking me that? I’m fine. I’m good. I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“Okay, okay. I won’t ask again. How are the-” 

“A round of beers and a soda.” 

“With beer nuts!” 

“And a thing of beer nuts, thanks,” the blond orders without looking up from his phone.

You tilt your head, not appreciating his tone and look over at Penny, nodding your head at him. 

She gestures for you to take care of him as a customer calls her over by name. 

You pat the edge of the bar top, “I’ll get your drink in a second, Pete. I gotta take care of this real quick.” 

“Take your time, I’ve got all night.” 

You smile, grabbing the beers, setting them on the counter in front of the blond. “Date night, is it?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Don’t keep her out too late. You know, Penny will be off in Pete land that she forgets to actually text Amelia and I’m the go to information person when you two are out.” 

“Don’t worry, tonight will be movie night with my two girls.” 

You set the beer nuts beside the drinks and smile at Pete. “Aw, that’s too cute but how are you gonna pick a movie? You know Penny likes those action movies while Amelia prefers something with a little more comedy.” 

“That’s why I’ll be out getting dinner.” 

“Oh,” you chuckle through your nose, “so, you’re gonna let the two hash it out.” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.” 

“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” You turn back to the occupied pilot in front of you. “Excuse me?” 

He hums. 

“I’d prefer it if you actually looked at me when I'm talking to you.” 

He lifts his head and loses his breath (which you don’t know). “Well,” he smirks, preparing to lay his charm on you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Don’t try that, it won’t work. Is this going on a tab or am I taking your money now?” 

“Straight to the point.” He gulps, a nervous smile takes place, all confidence he had a second ago disappeared. “I- I’ll do a tab.” 

“Name?” 

“Jake.” 

“Hangman, hurry up man!” 

“Or Hangman, I take it?” You glance up at him through your lashes. 

He nods, “it’s a likely possibility.” 

“Better take your drinks and snacks over there before your friends get too rowdy.” 

“Right.” He grabs all the drinks and works and holding the beer nuts (for Bob). “Thanks again.” 

“Yep.” You serve a small group of people before pouring Pete his drink. “You got something you want to say Pete?” 

-

Jake glances over at the bar, not looking for anyone in particular (lie) and his gaze happens to fall on you. 

He watches as you and Pete talk, wondering how you know his former teacher. 

-

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, “no.” 

“Sure, you don’t.” 

“I- are you sure you’re, okay?” 

“Honestly?” 

“I’d prefer it and I think it would be good for you.” 

“It’s that time.” 

“Time for?” 

“The time he decided he didn’t want to be a part of our life anymore, when he walked out on us.” 

“Oh, why didn’t you say anything?” 

-

Jake may not know you, but he does want to, so he can make sure you don’t look this upset again (if only he knew what the future entailed). 

-

“I’m not going to make my pity party anybody’s business.” 

“It’s not a pity party, you know you have a right to be upset.” 

“I do but I also feel like I should have moved on from this. It’s been- what, six- almost seven years now?” 

“Grief and heartache don’t heal fast enough for everyone.” 

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think-” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I mean I still miss them, and our situations may be different but what we feel is the same. You just gotta take your time. No one will judge you for that.” 

You chuckle, wiping the corner of your eyes. “When did you get so wise?” 

“I didn’t. I just remember a lot of words.” 

“And Penny wonders why I worry about the two of you?” 

“Now that was uncalled for.” 

“But I’m not wrong.” You breathe out a deep sigh, “thank you, Pete.” 

He nods, lifting his drink to take a sip. 

You close your eyes, taking a few seconds to gather yourself enough to pass by the customers. You pat Cody’s arm, telling him to take over while you do inventory. 

-

“You can do this,” you whisper to yourself. “You can do this.” 

You grab the clipboard off the desk and start your new task. 

-

“Bars closing in an hour,” Marty informs you as he grabs a box of liquor. “Okay- wait- wait- how much of that do we have left?” 

“I think this is the last of it.” 

“Thank you!” 

“No problem.” 

You set the clipboard back onto Penny’s desk and exit the back room. 

-

“Hey, Peggy Sue.” 

Penny shakes her head, “you’re never going to give up with that nickname, are you?” She sets the clean glass back in its proper place. 

You shake your head, “never.” 

“Alright then.” 

“If you want to leave early, you can. I’ve got this.” 

“Are you sure?” She glances over at the clock. 

“It’s only gonna be roughly fourth five minutes before you need to leave. I can ever lock up.” 

“Are you sure? You’ll be completely alone.” 

You nod, “I got this.” 

“Thank you, my dear.” She comes around the bar, hugging you tightly. “Thank you.” 

You chuckle, awkwardly patting her arm, “go, go. You’ll have fun and that’s all that matters.” 

“You swear you don’t have to go home early? Mary and Eddie are doing alright?” 

“They’re fine. Maryanne is at a friend’s house for a sleepover, all set to be picked up in the morning and Edwin is at home with the babysitter.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“I’m going. I’m going.” 

-

You double check the doors, make sure the tables and bar are wiped down, the information for the next order is ready. 

“All set,” you whisper. “Time to lock up and hit the road.” You grab your purse and pull out your keys while you hum “hit the road jack”. 

There’s the click and you set the work keys back in your purse. 

The gravel crunching beneath the stranger’s shoes puts you on high alert. You place your keys between your fingers. “Whoever it is, you should know to turn around and go back where you came from before you get an ass kicking.” 

“Uh- shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you or anything.” 

You turn around to find the cocky pilot. 

“I just- I felt I should apologize for the way I acted earlier. I shouldn’t have done that. Lord knows I was taught better than that.” 

“And you thought waiting until it was late at night, waiting for who knows how long to apologize.” 

“Who’s to say I didn’t want to wait until her next shift to talk to a pretty lady?” 

Your brows rise slightly, “oh?” 

“Could I- would it be alright if I asked for your number?” 

“You sure move fast, don’t you?” 

He straightens his posture. “I didn’t hear a no.” 

“I guess you didn’t but, how do I know you won’t send me graphic and inappropriate pictures?” 

“I won’t send you anything you wouldn’t enjoy.” 

You gasp, throwing your head break as you chuckle. 

He finds himself smiling, feeling better now than he did before. 

“If I give you my number, do you promise not to stalk me?” 

“I was gonna ask the same thing.” 

“Okay, jokester. Give me your phone.” You hold your hand out for him to set his phone in your hand. 

“Woah, hey now.” 

“What?”

“We’ve just met. How do I know you won’t run off with my phone the second you get it?” 

“Do I look like the kind of person to do that?” 

He shrugs, “no, but you never know.” 

“Okay,” you pull your phone out of your pocket, “we trade on the count of three. We say one, two, three then we trade. Got it?” 

“Got it.” 

“One. Two. Three.” 

You return the others phone almost as fast as you got them. 

“Jake?” 

“Yep.” 

The corners of your mouth twitch slightly, tugging upwards hard enough for someone to tell if you’re smiling unless they were looking at you (which he was). “Cute but I don’t think it fits with your whole “cocky, I could careless” attitude.” 

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, “you caught that.” 

“Mm-hmm, kind of hard not to.” 

“Right,” he mutters, averting his gaze from yours. 

You’ve seen him around the bar, honestly all the pilots but more so him but he usually has some random woman around his arm, and it’s never been the same one. 

“Are you okay?” You ask with a concerned tone. 

“What?” Your question catches him off guard. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I,” he pauses, trying to come up with an answer maybe the same answer he’s been giving everyone, but he doesn’t want to lie to you. “Why do you ask?” 

“You seemed distracted today and there was no young thing hanging off your arm, giggling at everything you say.” 

One corner of his lips tugs upwards. “Didn’t realize you noticed about me.” 

You tilt your head, staring at him with a raised brow (giving him the “mom” look like Maryanne says), “that’s not an answer.” 

“Is pass an option?” 

You sigh, “if you don’t want to answer the question that’s fine but I need to-” 

“No, no. I’m sorry. I- I did have a “date”,” he says with a grimaced expression. “But they had to cancel which felt like a huge relief and I’ve never felt that way. Ever. I just- I also haven’t felt like this...” 

“Let me guess, ever?” 

He nods, chuckling, “yep.” 

“Can I ask you something without you getting upset?” 

“Fire away.” The nickname sweetheart sits on the tip of his tongue. 

“How do you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Go out with a bunch of different women whenever you’re back here. I mean- I thought- wouldn't you want to be with one person who could support you and be there for you whenever. You know you would have someone who knows who well enough to help you after you come home from a- a mission whether it was a good one or a bad one. You wouldn’t have to ask because you’d already have that support. I- uh- I just realized I'm rambling about something that is not my business. I’m sorry.” 

Jake shakes his head, “no, no. It’s okay. Honestly, it’s kind of refreshing. No one’s asked me before. I- sometimes I do think about that, but I don’t think it’s going to happen for me.” 

You furrow your brows, “why?” 

“Have you met me? All people see is the asshole Hangman who leaves his teammates behind. Why would that guy find someone to be by his side?” 

“Has anyone else seen the other parts of you or are you so programmed to be an asshole that you can’t?” 

He says nothing. 

Your phone buzzes, you turn it on to find that Maryanne asking if you’re home yet because Edwin stole the babysitter’s phone to call her asking the same question. He’s not going to sleep until your home. 

“I’m gonna take it that your silence means you’re so programmed to be an asshole which sucks but if you try to be less of that “Hangman asshole” maybe you’d find something unexpected. I also have to go. Keep this conversation in mind, alright? Later, Jake.” 

He nods, watching as you run to your car, hair swaying side to side. 

After your car exits the parking lot, he realizes he’s alone... again and heads to his own car, making his way home. 

-

Therapist Bartender 

Ik you didn’t ask but I made it home 2:46am Sent Read 

You throw your head back against the pillows, finding yourself cringing at your text until the dimming light becomes bright again. 

Jake (From the Bar) 

I was going to ask but looks like you beat me to it 2:46am Sent Read 

You don’t realize it but you’re smiling as you text him, the same goes for Jake. 

Therapist Bartender 

Guess I’m in your head… oh and there are the provocative pictures 2:48am Sent Read 

Jake (From the Bar) 

You think you’re funny, don’t you? 2:49am Sent Read 

Therapist Bartender 

*Shrug woman emoji* I try 2:49am Sent Read  

Therapist Bartender 

Am I making your night better with my terrible humor? 2:50am Sent Read  

Jake (From the Bar) 

You have no idea 2:51am Sent Read 

You cover your mouth when you yawn, you’re so tired but you don’t want to stop talking to him. You can’t fight it anymore. 

Therapist Bartender 

I’m gonna have to put this on pause or else you’ll be talking to a sleeping person lol 2:55am Sent Read  

Jake (From the Bar) 

If we must 2:55am Sent Read 

Jake (From the Bar) 

Goodnight sweetheart 2:57am Sent Read 

-

The next night Jake and the others come into the hard deck for some fun, none of them have a mission coming up soon so they figured why not actually enjoy the night and drink until they can’t anymore at their favorite bar. 

-

“How was the sleepover?” asks Penny. 

“Maryanne had a blast,” you answer with a smile. 

No one quite knows what’s happened to you, but no one is certainly going to question it. 

“That’s good to hear. I know you were a little out of it and were worried how she was going to be. Believe it or not, I was the same way with Amelia.” 

“I’m gonna with or not.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that.” 

You laugh as you move towards the end of the bar, serving a customer. 

-

Jake offers to get the first round of drinks. 

-

He starts walking towards the bar, spotting you almost immediately. 

You offer a wave with a small smile. 

He waves back and almost bumps into someone right after. 

You cover your mouth, not wanting him to see. 

He shakes his head; you know he sees you “trying” not to laugh at him but neither of you care. “Hey,” you greet, leaning on the bar top. 

“Hey back to you.” 

“You gonna order something?” 

“Is staring at the therapist bartender not on the menu tonight?” 

You scoff, “flirting will get you nowhere.” 

-

Natasha smacks Javy’s arm. 

“What?” He asks, rubbing his arm. 

“When did he get close with the bartender?” 

“I- oh. Oh,” Javy starts chuckling. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know they got close, but it looks like he’s got a crush.” 

“Are you serious?” She asks with a smirk stretching across her lips. 

“Big time.” 

“How much you wanna bet?” 

“Not now,” he shakes his head. 

She tilts her head and furrows her brows, “why not now?” 

“He won’t make a move for a long time.” 

She shakes her head, lining up her shot. “I may not be betting on Bagman, but I just made fifty off your dumbass.” 

“That’s cheating!” 

“It’s not cheating if I play by the rules.” 

Javy narrows his eyes at her. “Double or nothing.” 

“You’re on.” 

-

“I think flirting is giving me all that I want.” 

“And what’s that, Jake from the bar?” 

“A few more seconds to talk to you.” 

You click your tongue, “you’re good I’ll give you that. A round of beers plus a soda and beer nuts, right?” 

“You remembered. Does this mean I’m your favorite?” 

You shake your head, “no.” 

He grabs the order, “you’re breakin’ my heart, sweetheart.” 

“Have fun, Jake.” 

He walks away with a satisfied smile on his face. 

Penny stands beside you with her hands on her hips, “what was that?” 

“That was nothing.” 

“That was not nothing.” 

“I work to do. Bye Penny!” You move to the end of the bar as quick as you can, catching Jake’s eye. 

He raises his beer to you; you nod and resume with your previous activities. 

-

“When’s the wedding?” Bradley asks. 

“I’m not listening to you, Chicken.” 

The pilots chuckle, knowing full well that Jake “Hangman” Seresin is completely smitten with you.

-

Next

TGTBATWOI Master List

-

Taglist: @abaker74​ @ebonyhogan24 @shanimallina87 @starkleila​ @kurtkunkle17

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel by the Wing - SEVEN

Chapter Warnings: drunk idiot at the bar grabs the reader once but that’s it, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: I have two more finals to go and they’re both essays. It’s the end of the semester/seasonal/clinical sad girl hours. This fic is consuming my brain. I will get to other requests soon but for now, enjoy our three sluts.

Series Masterlist

“Polynomials suck,” Amelia Benjamin declared as she slapped down her pencil on the counter. You chuckled at her declaration and pushed a bottle of Coke towards her. You were counting inventory at the bar while Penny and Gary worked in the back organizing the kitchen.

“When am I ever going to use this stuff?!” she moaned and buried her head in her hands. Rolling your eyes at her melodramatic display, you patted her hand and then ruffled her hair.

“If it makes you feel any better, I had to learn that stuff too. And look, I never use it.”

She let out a triumphant battle cry and dove back into her work, leaving you to grab the two chipped glasses you found. You pushed your way into the kitchen and deposited them in a trash can before leaning up against the counter next to where a very flustered, very stressed Chelsea stood staring at a mixology cheat sheet.

“Are you nervous?” She jumped at your question and swore under her breath before shooting you a dirty look.

“What if I accidentally poison someone?” she blurted out, nervously playing with one of her braids. That elicited a laugh out of you and you shook your head in amusement.

“Chels, there’s no way you will be able to accidentally poison someone unless you go and get the Raid in the supply closet and serve it as beer. You’re going to be fine.”

You pulled her into a side hug, rubbing her arm as she rested her head against your shoulder. It was Chelsea’s first night behind the bar after a few weeks of memorizing drinks and practicing on you and Penny. The two of you had to stumble home to Penny’s place one night after a few of Chelsea’s cocktail tests and you woke up on the couch to Theo lathering your face with kisses. At least Amelia was kind enough to make the two of you breakfast while you combated your hangovers together.

“Listen. I’m going to be with you the whole night.” Penny had to get her boat serviced so it was your night to open and close. You were going to be glued to Chelsea’s side.

“Any difficult orders or questions or anyone giving you problems gets sent straight to me, okay? If you feel uncomfortable or annoyed for any reason, you come get me. And don’t be afraid to use the bell. Twice for a round. Four times to alert the officers. Okay?”

“Okay.” Chelsea inhaled a deep breath and then let it slowly leak out of her. “I’ve got this.”

When the doors to the bar were opened and the sign shone brightly onto the street, beckoning in tourists and sailors alike, you were confident in Chelsea’s abilities. She was a quick study and a bubbly personality. Even if she took a bit longer to get drinks out, the bar was usually packed with regulars who would understand.

Under the banner you had hung up earlier that day, the one Penny had gleefully approved and helped you mount, you mixed drinks, chatted up customers, and started tabs. The words emblazoned across the fabric stated “home of the worst old fashioned that one guy on yelp had” and damn, if you weren’t proud of your investment in that sign.

“Can I get an old fashioned? Or will I keel over and have to be carried out?” A familiar voice quipped. You glanced up to find two grinning faces and you practically threw yourself over the counter to wrap your arms around the woman’s shoulders. Phoenix laughed from behind her wife’s back as you practically pulled Sofia into a stranglehold.

“You bitch! You didn’t tell me you were back home!” Sofia had been gone for the past month visiting her parents in Monterrey. That meant Natasha had been moping for the past four fucking weeks.

“I wanted to surprise my best friend. Is that a crime?” Sofia gasped against your tight hug.

“Ugh, I missed you so much!”

“Yeah, not as much as I did. Let go of my wife before you suffocate her,” Phoenix joked. You released Sofia and settled back behind the bar.

“Okay, we need to get brunch and catch up soon, but I gotta get back to work. It’s Chelsea’s first night behind the bar and I want to make sure she knows I’m always available. Go order a drink from her, please? And make the others order too. It’ll help that it’s a friendly face.”

“You got it. Now, c’mon! I wanna go torture Jake!” Sofia declared as she grabbed her wife’s hand and tugged her towards the pool tables. You smiled at the sight of the pair. They were truly a couple that you admired, having toughed it out through thick and thin.

The bar started to get busier as people got off work. Chelsea maintained a cool composure and you bumped your hip against hers as you passed her on your way to grab a bottle from the top shelf for a customer.

“You’re doing great!” you shouted over the music. ABBA blasted over the speakers and you bobbed your head to the music. Glancing up, you saw Hangman leaning against the wall across the bar and chatting animatedly with Javy. He wasn’t standing with the others like usual and you wondered if something was wrong, but you didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

Looking over at the pool table, Rooster was playing with Bob against Phoenix and Sofia. That poor man. Those two women were pool sharks.

“Hey.” A soft touch on your arm pulled your attention away and you met Chelsea’s wide brown eyes. Instantly, you were on alert.

“What’s up?”

She jerked her chin towards two guys leaning up against the bar. Tourists, by the looks of it. Tourists who had already pregamed before coming here.

“He’s saying that his mojito isn’t right. I’ve made it for him three times now.”

The guy’s eyes were firmly fixed on the back of Chelsea’s jean shorts and you quickly turned, placing her on the other side of you. She relaxed just a fraction when she saw your reaction and offered you a silent thanks. You nodded her towards the kitchen.

“Go take your break. You’re doing amazing and I’m super proud of you.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed your hand in one more thanks and then disappeared behind the swinging door of the kitchen. You sauntered up to the counter where the guy and his friend sat. He offered you a leering smirk that you assumed was supposed to be charming. Instead of swooning, you merely wiped your hands on a towel and tossed it over your shoulder.

“Can I help you boys with something?” You planted your palms on the counter, ignoring the sticky sensation that came with the inevitable spills of liquor and tears in a bar. His eyes drifted down to the front of your shirt, but you made no move to cover up.

“I ordered a mojito and that sweet little thing you got working here doesn’t know how to make one. I was just giving her an opportunity to learn.”

You spied one of the discarded drinks on the counter and picked it up. Studying the contents, you deemed it acceptable and took a sip.

“Tastes perfect. I don’t understand what the complaint is here.”

He leaned his forearms on the counter and let his gaze linger on the name tag affixed to the front of your shirt. A slow grin crawled up his flushed cheeks and you scoffed.

“The problem is that you girls are too pretty to be working back here.”

An elated laugh escaped you and he brightened, but you merely stepped back and grabbed the rope attached to the bell. Swinging it twice, the ring of the bell clanged through the bar and cheers erupted. You offered him a brilliant smile and tapped the sign twice.

His face fell. Oh, if there was a favorite part of your job, this might be it.

“If you didn’t like paying for one drink, how about paying for a whole round?”

His palm struck the counter with a sharp crack and you didn’t even flinch. If he wanted to throw a tantrum, he could go ahead and try it. Your hand itched to ring the bell again, but you gave him a chance to redeem himself, even in the slightest.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. Nope. No redemption here. “Bring me your fucking manager.”

“You got her, sweetheart. Hi, I’m the manager. What seems to be the problem today?”

Based on the coil of his muscles and the rage in his eyes, you knew what was coming before it happened. He lunged over the bar just as you grabbed the faucet spout and blasted him in the face with a jet of lukewarm water. He spluttered and fell back against his friend, giving you a chance to grab the rope again.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

Four.

You snatched his card off of his tab sheet, wrote down his name to ensure he was entered on the removed list, and waved his card in his face.

“You might be needing this!” You tossed the card at his buddy, but this asshole just wouldn’t let up. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your forward, your diaphragm colliding against the wood of the bar, knocking the breath out of you. Grabbing the discarded mojito, you threw the liquid in his face and stumbled back as he released you.

“You have gotta be a special brand of fucking stupid,” you snarled.

Any retort was silenced by the two hands clapping down on his shoulders. Bradley and Jake stood on either side of the motherfucker, a silent, tight rage emblazoned on their handsome faces.

“You really shouldn’t fuck around at a Navy bar,” Bradley commented. Although he sounded casual, his voice was deeper than normal.

“Want him gone, sweetheart?” Jake asked. His burning gaze was fixed on you. You nodded in response and the two men lifted the guy like he weighed nothing and hauled him out of the bar. The sea of people parted at the sight of a guy being thrown overboard. Coyote and Fanboy followed behind with the guy’s buddy in between them.

You exhaled deeply and pressed your fists against the counter, taking a moment to compose yourself. Pushing off of the counter, you plastered a grin on your face and moved on to take the next customer’s order.

Although you tried to relax, your hands trembled throughout the rest of the night. Any chance you had a moment to breathe, the memory of him grabbing you clenched around your thoughts like a vice. You pushed on, intent on just getting through the night. When the patrons filtered out and the jukebox fell silent, you found yourself enveloped in the aching loneliness and fear that lingered on the vestiges of your mind.

“Go home, Chels,” you said softly. You passed her the tips she had made for the night. “You did good.”

“Thank you.” You knew she was talking about more than just guiding her through tonight. She pulled you into a quick hug and then darted to the back room to grab her purse. You waited until you heard the door shut behind her before you let your head fall onto your forearm.

You couldn’t go home tonight. You couldn’t let yourself be alone.

Making your mind up, you finished closing and then drove home with the local rock station playing low in the background. Just as a way to quiet some of the noise in your head. Pulling into the familiar parking lot, you locked your car and then fingered the key that rested on your keychain. He had given it to you a few months back to water his plants while he was gone and you had used it once before for this very reason, but something still made you hesitate.

There. That cold, creeping sensation up your neck and down your spine. Fear. It drove you to push on. Your feet led you to the front door of his apartment and you slid the key into the lock, feeling it give and turn and then suddenly you were there, in his place.

The light at the end of the hall flipped on and Jake appeared in the hall, sleep mussed and tired. He took one look at you and frowned.

“Hey.” Sleep coated his voice and it made the all too present ache in your chest intensify. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you murmured. “My, uh, my AC is broken so I figured I would crash on your couch.”

The lie came easy, but his ability to see right through you came easier. Jake eased the door shut behind you and locked it before he twined his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. His lips met the crown of your head and your eyes fell shut in relief as all the tension leaked out of you.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Thank you.” His hand ran down your arm and then encircled your wrist. The same wrist that had been grabbed and yanked around. Jake lifted it up, inspecting your skin for any sign of lasting damage. You waited with bated breath as he lowered his head to the inside of your wrist and laid a gentle kiss along your veins.

“I got some clothes you can wear.” He led you into his room and laid out one of his old Naval Academy shirts and some sweats that would definitely be too big on you. Jake left his room to let you get dressed, something that made you smile when you thought about how often he had seen you naked and writhing under him, yet he was always a gentleman when he wasn’t fucking you within an inch of your life.

“Jake?” you called when you were done. He reappeared in the hall with a mug of steaming tea in his hands. You accepted it gratefully, cradling it between your hands and letting the warmth seep into your soul.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “You have work in a few hours and I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” One of his hands came up to cup your chin and he raised your head so your eyes met his. “Nothing to apologize for. I gave you that key for a reason. Okay? You’re not bothering me. Truth is, I wasn’t sleeping much anyway.”

“Okay.” You took a sip of the tea and inhaled the soft, flowery touch of chamomile and honey. His hands settled on your hips as he studied you. You lowered the mug and blinked up at him.

“I figure you don’t want to talk about it,” he murmured. You nodded and a small, sad smile lifted at the edges of his lips.

“I should have beat the shit out of him,” he finally said. “My dad was like that. In public, he was this great army guy and then he’d get home, drunk off his ass, and he’d hit my mom and…shit, I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this.”

“I do.” You didn’t mean to sound so urgent, but this was the first time Jake had ever told you about his family aside from the basics. Warmth suffused his blue eyes and then he leaned forwards, nuzzling his nose against your temple.

“She left the bastard. Eventually. Did a damn find job raising me and my sister, if I do say so myself. Lives in Minnesota now with two dogs and three cats. I should get her to come down here one day. Enjoy the warm weather.”

“Bring her by the bar,” you suggested. “I’d love to meet the woman who somehow raised the most arrogant man in the world.”

He chuckled, his breath washing over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your arms.

“That’d be nice. I’d like for you to meet her.”

“Yeah?” You tried to keep the hopeful tone out of your voice, but the surprise on your face betrayed you. Jake grinned and ducked his head, stealing a kiss from you. Minty toothpaste collided with the chamomile resting on your tongue and you savored the touch of him.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered once he broke away. “Now, c’mon. Bed time for you, ma’am.”

That night, with Jake curled around you, his large frame guarding you from any of the evils of the world, you should feel content. You should feel at peace. But there was something itching under the surface of your skin. There was some piece of your mind that was elsewhere, savoring the last rays of the setting sun with the taste of ice cream and sea salt on your lips and a warm body next to you.

You were so fucked.

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​

[pollyna]

Nobody really ever let Mav drive because, even after 20 and plus years of having his drive licence, he's still shit. Not like I just started to drive shit, but I get bored after the first five minutes. Why does this thing go so slowly? kinda of shit. But the day has been long, and Mav is the least tired of the four, with Amelia and Penny sleeping in the backseats and Rooster barely keeping his eyes open. A day by the sea always has this effect on you, eh kid? He asks, ruffling his hair, and receives an uhuh as an answer. C'mon twenty minutes tops, and we'll be home, he murmurs a little to himself and a little to everybody else.

Twenty minutes later, Mav parks in front of his home, and he already has a foot on the concrete when a hand stops him. Mav? Where are we? Penny asks, and Pete smiles, she has to be still sleeping if she doesn't realise they are home. Home! he answers, already thinking about if he should take Amelia or let Bradley do the job because his back kinda hurts now an-

Dad Bradley calls his attention back to him Dad, we aren't there yet. This isn't Penny's home. He continues, his voice soft and his eyes a little wet.

I- he tries to say something, but the house in front of him speaks louder than any words. Yes, yes, I'm sorry. Just tired. We will be there in a minute, Pen'.

No problem, Pete, it happens sometimes she answers, a soft smile on her face and Bradley's hands still around his arm.

He smiles at her and at Bradley, starting the car again, trying his hardest not to look in the rearview mirror while the place he still calls home gets farther and farther away.

(Thirty-two, blonde hair tips, and I think this is the last one, Mav he said. Now I can officially say, welcome home, love he added, picking him up in the middle of an empty living room with just a couch and a coffee table to occupy the space. Welcome home, my dear, he rebuffed, laughing and spinning around, kissing the man he was soon to marry.) 

[bluepastels29]

Skye (Numbuh 7) Ref sheet

Name

Skye Dickson

Nickname(s)

Sky Queen (Numbuh 2), Wingnut (Numbuh 86), Robo-expert (herself)

Age

(Gen 1) 11

(Gen 2) 14

(Gen 3) 27

Gender

Female

Sexuality

Bisexual

Personality

Humorous, carefree, and sarcastic, Skye likes to crack jokes at any given moment to keep the mood lightened (much to her most of her sector's annoyance). She loves messing around with the adults and teenagers when fighting them, watching them fall for her tricks and small traps she leaves behind. Having an IQ of 140, Skye is quick to thinking up plans both for fighting and inventing. She can be cocky at times to where it gets the best of her and can easily catch her off guard. Whenever she feels down or stressed, she quickly masks it with her usual joking self and bottles up her feelings rather than talk to someone. She can be very protective of her friends and family, immediately jumping in to defend them of any danger.

Strengths

Very sneaky when leaving traps such as mini paint bombs, trip wires, and marbles behind during a battle A quick thinker for being in tight time situations Is talented for inventing weapons and uses them to fight and help her teamIs very optimistic and it's hard to wipe off her smile. She knows how to motivate her team after a failed mission to get then in higher spiritsHer main combat style is air battles and can be a huge advantage for those who don't have any 2x4 air tech on themHer weredog form makes her weigh 180lbs more so it's easier to pin someone down or throw a powerful hit

Weaknesses

Skye sometimes has trouble controlling her anger which can end to really hurting someone or herselfSkye tends to bottle up her emotions and mask it with her usual happy attitude until she eventually breaks down.Can get too cocky when competing or just showing off and can be blind to everything around her from focusing too hard on her goalHer anxiety causes her to easily get overwhelmed and get in the way of finishing thingsSkye works best at night so she most likely stays up til dawn or up to a few days working on projects and making her act loopy and clumsy from tiredness

KND OPERATIVE INFO

Numbuh

Numbuh 7

Occupation

2x4 tech officer

Global Pilot

Weapon

Mostly anything she invents

Sector

Sector V (formerly)

Moonbase

Combat(1-10)

7-10

Intelligence(1-10)

10-10

Bravery(1-10)

8-10

Communication(1-10)

9-10

Other abilities

When going into her weredog form, she is more agile and quick and has big paws to strike and pin someone down Is talented at air battles but gets a bit carried away with ariel stuntsVery agile in the air and uses her J.E.T.A.B.O.O.T.S to her advantage Uses her surroundings to help with her hand-to-hand combat and to plan getaways

-RELATIONSHIPS-

Family

Amelia Dickson/Mega Mom- She doesn't remember much of her mom during her time at the orphanage but heard from Chad and Brynlee that she can go a bit overboard when giving her kids affection and can be downright embarrassing when attending school plays,sports games, or around their friends. She found her to be pretty strict when it comes to school grades and keeping the house clean but overtime she started to step back a little when the sibs are in their mid teens.

Arthur Dickson/Destructo Dad- Her Dad is known as the fun parent who cracks a lot of Dad jokes, which Skye loves to join in on. She secretly gets along more with him than her mom and finds out they both act almost alike. Skye loves that she has a parent to talk to and be herself around (and to have a test subject for a few inventions)

Benjamin Beaumont- Its still a mystery for Skye never hearing about her uncle and only knows that he's mom's twin brother. Whenever Skye mentions him, Amelia instantly changes the subject or starts to get angry but either way it was weird. She asked her dad about it and he hesitantly mentions that Benjamin is a hermited inventor and that Ben and Amelia got into a huge fight when they were teens during their parents divorce and haven't spoke since. Nobody knows his whereabouts but assumes he still lives in France where he was born.

Chad Dickson- During when her memory of him was wiped, Skye saw Chad as an enemy and a traitor like everyone else in the KND. She would pull as many pranks on him when she got the chance, especially during the times she visited Brynlee. When getting her memories back, she instantly felt horrible and guilty for the way she treated her older brother and tried to find ways to make it up to him until he instantly forgave her. Their the type of siblings to constantly mess with each other and try to annoy the other (which Skye doesn't most of). They can count on each other whenever one of them gets into trouble and not to rat each other out to their parents. Chad is known to get overworked so Skye is the one to pry him away from studies or missions and make him take care of himself, same with Skye and staying up working on projects.

•Brynlee Dickson- Even when losing her memories, the two instantly got along when reuniting in cadet training. Skye always begged Numbuh 1 to arrange both sectors to go on missions together, but unfortunately that's only for emergencies. When regaining their memories, they became even more inseparable and started taking back the time they were apart and filling it with more positive memories. Out of the two, Skye seems to be the most protective and sometimes even turning into a mother hen whenever Bryn gets injured during a mission or dealing with jerks. Like most twins, they know what the other is feeling and is in danger, also can unintentionally speak in unison.

Jet Dickson- Skye and Jet have been through a lot together and sadly know more about each other than their siblings. They can also be the type of siblings to bicker and get on each other's nerves but almost instantly make up like nothing happened. They both have ptsd from the orphanage with Jet having severe paranoia, so when something is triggered, they know how to calm the other down. They can sometimes get into dramatic arguments over the smallest things, but its mostly fake and do it just to be funny.

Friends/Allies

Numbuh 1/Nigel- Skye respects him as a leader and a sectormate. She admires his loyalty to the KND and his team, and knows to always count on him. Whenever they are the only two at the tree house or on a mission together, they usually go to the moonbase to hang out especially on meatball sub wensday. Sometimes people assume that their dating at first sight, but unfortunately Skye has feelings for Numbuh 2 and Nigel being with Lizzy (before the series ends)

Numbuh 3- Despite the two having opposite personalities, they still got along really well. Skye doesn't mind playing tea parties with her but will only fill in if someone else won't to not hurt her feelings. Unlike Numbuh 4, Skye never acts rude around her or call her interests "cruddy" or "stupid" and instead tries to like things she likes to give them a chance and vice versa.

Numbuh 4- Skye is basically his partner in crime right next to Numbuh 2. They like causing trouble together and plan pranks on adults and teenagers. They work very well together in missions despite they usually attack first before planning. She usually forgets to think before acting when around him and becomes reckless and a lot more rowdy.

Numbuh 5- Skye knows to come to her when she wants to chill out. She enjoys going on candy hunts and bringing back truck loads of candy for the team. At times they can get competitive with each other and have friendly challenges such as finding out who can eat more candy under a minute or a soda chugging challenge. They also share a similar incident involving weredogs have been bitten by one.

Numbuh 60- Skye respects him as a higher rank than she is but also wants him to lighten up a little and drags him to have fun with either her siblings or with her sector. They are opposites between strict and workaholic to fun and laid-back which is why Skye usually gets on his nerves. Patton use to be awkward on dates with Brynlee and had Skye as a secret wing-girl until he got more confident with dating.

Numbuh 362- Highly looks up to her as the soopreme leader and greatly admires her leadership. When Rachel also started dating Brynlee, Skye was shocked at first but was really happy and supportive about the news.

Numbuh 86- Skye has a record for the times Fanny screamed her ears off for damaging global airships or crashing them into the moonbase. Skye gets on her bad side without meaning to, so she's one of the very few girls Numbuh 86 yells at. However, they got a chance to bond at Fanny's slumber party and officially became friends.

Antonio Fizzuras/ Ace the kid- Skye was a bit standoffish towards him from hearing about shooting down Numbuh 2's aircraft and disliked it whenever he was flirting with Numbuh 3. They became huge rivals and Ace seems to get Skye furious enough to want to challenge him to air battles. It takes a while for Skye to eventually start to warm up to him but they still remain extremely competitive with each other.

Dustin Rosewood- She became fond of Dustin when Chad introduced him as his boyfriend and thinks him and her brother make a good match. She loves how his cheerfulness is contagious and knows it makes Chad the happiest out of them. Skye also loves to make jokes about them followed by a few mature ones to annoy the hell out of Chad while Dustin hides his face in his hoodie.

Justin Cavallero- Use to see him as an enemy for being a teen ninja and despised him after finding out he was using Chad while they were dating. When he and Chad got back together and now in a poly relationship with Dustin, it took Skye a couple of months to fully trust him.

Enemies

Madame Rouge- Skye will forever hate her for separating her family and leaving scars on her and Jet. She sees Rouge as nothing but a heartless monster for her time at the orphanage, having severe ptsd whenever going near the place despite it now being abandoned.

•Natalie Keller- Skye saw her as a big nuisance during cadet training and picked a fight whenever Brynlee was being bullied by her. Was determined to score a higher rank than her to prove herself.

•Jacob/Numbuh 211- Skye always gets furious whenever she sees him, wanting to wipe the smug look on his face when bullying her sister and Sector V. She feels the need to defend those who ever interact with him, feeling a bit on edge.

Love Interest(s)

Numbuh 2- Due to her huge crush on the flyboy, Skye is usually more loving towards him and will occasionally flirt by using pick up lines when no one else is around. The two share a love for jokes and aircraft, and usually go out for chilidogs. She loves his charming and kind nature and the fact that he easily makes her laugh. Although he tries to charm up other girls, She can thank Numbuh 5 for literally smacking him out of it. They love collaborating with each other when working on machines to test them out.

BIO

On the night of her and her sister's 5th birthday, Skye along with her 3 year old brother, Jet, were taken from their house and woke up in what they were told was an orphanage, which was named Forever Home, with no memories of their family or even their last names. The lady who was running the place was named Rouge Adderson but strictly wanted to be addressed as Madame Rouge and lied to the two siblings informing that their parents were reported to have died and will now be residing at Forever Home until the age of 18. When Skye asked about her last name, Jet blurted out "Rocket" while pointing to a space rocket drawing on the wall, giving them their new names: Skye and Jet Rocket.

The next eight years were like a living hell for Skye, having to deal with Madame Rouge's abuse and intense study sessions. Her arms and face were marked by scratches and tiny scars for having to receive discipline after standing up for her brother or making a small mistake. She also had a fresh injury on her left side going up a bit towards her rib after making the mistake of lashing out of anger towards Madame Rouge for striking Jet and got the feeling of claw like nails scrape across her side, which was intended to cross her face but missed when Skye tried to dodge. One night, Skye overheard her roommates planning an escape and took the opportunity for her and her brother to be apart of it, swearing not to tell anyone else along with agreeing to sneak them candy until they're free.

On the night of the escape, 8 year old Skye snuck out of the room with a now 6 year old Jet and sent him with the others while she checked if Madame Rouge was asleep. Madame Rouge was asleep and all looked according to plan until she remembered the box of necklaces inside Rouge's nightstand on the day Skye snooped inside to find more information about her parents and accidentally found the box instead. Quickly, Skye grabbed the box and left to meet up with the kids while hiding it underneath her pajama shirt. The leader of the escapist was a girl named Sarah and led them down into the basement to escape through a small window which was surrounded by kids Skye never seen before and wearing cooking pots, baking sheets, sand pales and other stuff to look like armor with numbers and the letters KND painted on their "helmets" and "chestplates".

Despite meeting these strangers, Skye knew they were sent to help them escape. Before anyone could get away, the door slammed open and out flowed a number of security and women who Skye recognized a few who are her study tutors and lastly Madame Rouge, making the kids hearts stop while frozen in place while shielded by the KND operatives aiming their weapons. After Rouge furiously yelled out an order, a fight broke out, and most of the operatives were taken down from being outnumbered. Soon enough, some of the escapists were captured as well, leaving Sarah, Skye, and Jet the only kids to fend for themselves. Sarah grabbed hold of both their hands and made a run for the open window with Rouge closing in. Jet was the first to go out, and Skye followed behind, only to look back and witness Sarah being captured. A KND air ship was waiting outside for them and were taken to the moonbase to be checked and treated for any injuries for their first moments of freedom.

2 years later, Skye, age 10, is now a member of Sector V with her codename, Numbuh 7, and worked alongside Numbuh 2 as a 2x4 tech officer and pilot. Jet, age 8½, wasn't assigned a Sector and is instead a floating operative as a detective and journalist and is sent to sectors when on detective duty. During the night they sleep in Skye's room at the treehouse ever since their escape and were well taken care of for staying 2 years in a treehouse. Skye also has a best friend, Brynlee Dickson/Numbuh 205, when in cadet training while still blocked by the truth of who she truly is. One summer, Numbuh 1-love was hosting a summer party at Sector J with every sector being invited. The summer party was only the beginning for them, being the most eventful summer of their lives.

It wasn't until Madame Rouge started helping the adults make a mind control device that'll take down the entire kids next door, that all sectors were ordered by Numbuh 362 to station at Forever Home for a war between kids and adults. Chad tagged along with Skye, Bryn, and Jet to help them in the fight while secretly calling some TND operatives to help on the sidelines. During the last days of summer, Madame Rouge was finally defeated, and her body retreated into one of the necklaces, trapping her inside. Once she was contained, the necklace began to glow and got brighter by the second until releasing a red flash causing Skye,Jet,Brynlee, and Chad's eyes to flash between blue and red until finally ending at a bright blue before going back to normal. Slowly, their memories start coming back, revealing the truth about them being long-lost siblings to each other. After that, the family catches up on lost time, slowly turning whole again.

Voice Claims

Young- Hayley Tju (voice of Marcy Wu from Amphibia)

Teen/Adult- Linda Cardellini (voice of Wendy from Gravity Falls)

(Brynlee, Jacob, and Natalie belong to emtem.xox on instagram 💙)

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Dagger Squad Thanksgiving

 Warnings: Cheesy, predictable, cheesy, mentions of marriage, oh, and uh, cheesy.

Pairing:  Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Penny Benjamin

Characters: All of Dagger Squad, Penny Benjamin and mentions of Amelia Benjamin

Word Count: 1422

A/N: To those that celebrate – Happy Thanksgiving! I’m incredibly thankful to be a part of the TGM fandom and for all the love, support, and encouragement I have received from each of you. With that said, this is honestly mostly dialogue. Sorry I’m advance. Still, I hope you enjoy the precious moment play out.

“It smells good in here,” Maverick called out, leading a train of boys into the house.

“Don’t you dare,” Phoenix jokingly smacked Coyote’s hand away from the plate of deviled eggs.

“Hey,” Rooster stopped when he made it to Phoenix, he bent down and kissed her.

“Did you have a good game?” She asked him.

“Yes, did you enjoy losing?” Jake joked before Rooster could speak up.

You laughed, “You’re a sore winner.”

Jake bent down to kiss you, “Hey baby, you surviving in here?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Penny let me turn the thermostat way down to help my mood.” You laughed.

“How cold is it normally on Thanksgiving where you’re from?” Coyote asked

“Usually in the high 30’s, maybe the low 40’s.”

“Nope, too cold” He laughed.

“The thermostat is only at 62.” Penny pointed out.

“Tolerable,” Maverick shrugged. “When do we eat?”

“20ish minutes?” You spoke, “The bird is resting; it needs to be carved still.”

“Oh!” Jake raised his hand, “That’s an actual job for me.”

Everyone laughed.

“Maybe it should be the man from Montana, not Texas?” Payback piped up.

“Oh no,” Bob threw his hands up in defense. “I can assure you Texas has meat carving over Montana.”

“Who knows, maybe this is that one thing that Hangman is bad at?” Rooster joked.

Jake laughed, “I still haven’t found that one thing I’m bad at.”

“Y/N, is he bad at anything?” Penny winked at you.

You blushed and shook your head, “Not a thing,”

“You know there isn’t much of a difference between being bad at something and not good at something.” Rooster explained, “So if he’s not good at something, that could qualify as being bad at something.”

“You are grasping for anything, aren’t you?” Jake laughed.

“Give the girl a chance to answer,” Rooster chided.

“My answer remains unchanged,” You smirked, leaning into Jake’s chest. Your cheeks were so hot from blushing they nearly hurt.

“You’re embarrassing the poor girl,” Phoenix softly smacked Rooster.

“Alright, everyone out.” Penny clapped her hands. “Except you, you and you,” She pointed to you, Jake, and Rooster.

The group filed out of the room one by one. You knew why you and Jake were staying behind but were unsure what Rooster had to do. Penny slid the pocket door closed and immediately got a giddy look on her face.

“Do you have it?” She asked Rooster.

“Huh?” You looked at Jake, confused. He laughed and kissed your temple.

“Here,” Rooster pulled a small box out of his pocket.

Penny opened the box, smiling as she examined the content.

“See, you wouldn’t have won if I didn’t have this precious cargo in my pocket.” Rooster joked.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Jake rolled his eyes.

“Look!” Penny turned the box to you.

Your jaw dropped. Inside the box was a beautiful gold engagement band with six small diamonds split around one larger. It was a dainty but elegant ring.

“It’s beautiful, Rooster,” You smiled at him, Natasha was your best friend, and you knew she would love this. “Babe, is this why you were asking me all these weird cryptic questions the last few weeks?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, smirking, “I couldn’t exactly tell you what he was planning.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I can keep a secret.” You pouted.

Jake set the knife down and looked at you with a serious expression. “Baby, what are the exceptions for who you can share secrets with?”

“Your husband and your, oh,” You stopped for a second, “your best friend.” You trailed off.

“Wait, he’s not your husband.” Rooster pointed out.

“Yet,” Jake mumbled.

“What do you mean, yet?” Penny directed at Jake.

“It’s not a secret. It’s just a matter of when, where, and how.” Jake shrugged.

He wasn’t lying. There had been many conversations, some joking but some serious. You both knew from the moment you met that that was it. You were staring at your forever. You didn’t want it rushed or in some cliché way.

“Thank god I didn’t lose that bet.” Penny laughed.

“What bet?” Jake asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Her and Mave bet that your trip to Vegas a few weeks ago was to get married.”

“Why would we go to Vegas to get married?” Jake was confused.

“We would do it with all of you and our families.” You added.

“Well, y’all have been going at it like rabbits, so we assumed you were probably pregnant at this point.” Rooster laughed.

Penny smacked him in the arm.

“You and Mave aren’t married, and you tell each other everything.” You pointed out.

There was a knock on the pocket door, “I’m withering away out here,” Coyote joked.

Rooster quickly closed the box and slipped it back into his pocket. Penny opened the pocket door and started handing dishes out to be placed on the table. You rushed around, ensuring everyone had full drinks, and nobody was taking liberties with the seating arrangements. Once Jake was done cutting the turkey and carrying it into the dining room, everyone sat around the table.

“I’m not going to give some lengthy speech,” Mave spoke as everyone sat down. “I do, however, want to thank all of you for everything over the last few months. We’ve had our growing pains, learning, and adjusting as a squad. But most importantly, growing as a family. Each of you means more to me than I can ever express.”

“Here, here,” The group cheered, raising their glasses.

Dinner flew by in a delicate blurt of laughter, love, and gratitude. Once you were full, you picked up your wine glass and leaned back in your chair, silently observing your new-found family. Their banter and laughs brought a smile to your own face.

Jake positioned himself closer to you, sitting back in a similar fashion with his arm stretching out across the back of your chair. You laid your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for this,” You spoke softly.

“You did most of the cooking,”

“Not that; I mean all of them and for letting me be a part of this family.”

“I should be the one thanking you for putting up with all of us, especially me.”

You turned your head to look up at him, “yeah, you’re pretty hard to deal with.” You smirked.

“I love you,” He smiled back.

“And I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head.

Rooster cleared his throat, “Before Mr. and Mrs. Bagman gets all wrapped up in each other,” he pointed at you and Jake, “I wanted to take a moment while we are all here to say a few things.”

“Ooohhh,” Mickey cheered.

“Speech time,” Ruben beamed.

“I wanted to echo some of the things Mave said and say thank you to the team. We’ve been through a lot in the last few months with missions and finding a new normal with balancing inter-team, relationships, friendships, and family.” He looked over at Natasha and interlaced their fingers. “I want to thank you for all your acceptance and encouragement with this relationship. The uranium mission really reminded me of how fragile life is.”

Phoenix smiled back at him. She had a way of getting lost in his gaze like he was the only one in the room.

“Nat, my love, my best friend. I have to say that I am incredibly thankful for you. Your patience is an art form that I’ll never comprehend. You love me unconditionally and far more than I deserve some days.” Rooster choked up, his voice thick with emotion as he fished the small box from his pocket. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Would you allow me the honor of being your husband?”

He set the open box in front of her, and she covered her mouth in awe. Natasha was usually good at being able to reign in her emotions, but not at this moment. Happy tears filled her eyes, and she nodded.

“Yes, a thousand times yes.” She agreed, throwing her arms around his neck.

The room erupted in cheers and clapping as Rooster slid the ring over her ringer. You had managed to get her actual ring size, so there would be no need to resize it. Rooster had really relied on Jake to get the details from you, and it seemed to pay off. Silent, happy tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked at your best friend and her fiancé. Thankful that you got to be a part of that moment and all of their lives.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3  

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Sweet Home Alabama

Series Pairing: Linley Floyd (Mitchell) x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Linley Floyd (Mitchell)

Series Warnings: Infidelity, Mentioned Miscarriage, Lying

Series Masterlist

INTRODUCING: AMELIA BENJAMIN

Amelia's well aware that her relationship with her big brother is a bit different. Jake was already fourteen when she was born and well, she idolized him when she was little. She still does, too. He's her hero. Jake's the one person who'd drop anything to help her out, even if it's only to puzzle out the solution to an algebra problem. She can still remember how excited she was when her big brother, her Jake got married, if only because she loved her lacey princess dress as flower girl for the wedding. Linley was the best big sister a girl could hope for - for one year, that is. When she left Pigeon Creek, she took the best parts of Jake with her. When she comes waltzing back, Amelia's ready to fight for her brother's happiness - no matter what.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell @beccaanne814 @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @thedroneranger

[burningvelvet]

"since his wife Mary tried hard to acquire all the portraits of him"

how many portraits are there of him? What are they? :0 The only one I know of that was made of him when he was alive, all the rest I've seen seem to just be attempts to make Currant's painting look nicer lmao

On Percy Shelley's appearance: portraits and descriptions

Existing portraits include: sketches by Edward Ellerker Williams, some reprinted in Newman Ivey White's Shelley biography, a drawing by Mary Shelley (sometimes said to be by Williams), some portraits of him as a child, some missing or unidentified portraits mentioned in Mary Shelley's letters, portraits by Marianne Hunt (Leigh Hunt's wife), the sketches and painting by Amelia Curran and their many copies you've seen.

Williams' sketches, from White's book:

Marianne Hunt's portraits (sculpture from the Eton College library, shadow silhouette portrait from I don't remember where, but these shadow silhouettes were made from tracing the subject's shadow, so it is the most accurate likeness):

Mary's supposed drawing (screenshot of a prior post of mine, source incl.), child Percy from the Morgan library:

child Percy by Antoine Philippe, duc de Montpensier (Bodleian library), a sketch by the same artist at the National Portrait Gallery, and a portrait of him by an unknown artist from the National Portrait Gallery - there are possibly other portraits of him as a child considering his family was rich:

Many of the portraits don't resemble each other, which as an artist myself I can only assume is a reflection of the skill of the varying artists, some of which were only beginners. Curran was a practicing art student and apparently threw her Shelley painting into her fireplace and nearly destroyed it at one point lmao. I personally struggle to capture likeness myself and if I made a portrait of Shelley it would probably look nothing like him.

Then there are some extended descriptions and anecdotes on him, his personality, and his appearance. The best ones are given in the memoirs of his friends Medwin, Hogg, Trelawny, Hunt, Hazlitt's essay "On Paradox and Common Place," the 1863 essay by Thornton Leigh Hunt (Hunt's son) titled "Shelley: By One Who Knew Him" (a favorite of mine), Claire Clairmont's letters and journals, a description from "the life and letters of Joseph Severn," Horace Smith in his 1847 essay series "A Graybeard's Gossip About His Literary Acquaintances" (essays No. 8 and 9), Benjamin Haydon's autobiography, Sophia Stacey's diary excerpts published in "Shelley and his Friends in Italy" (another favorite of mine), and letters by his sister Hellen Shelley published in Hogg's Shelley biography (some of the most interesting anecdotes).

Then there are miscellaneous reports mostly colleced in the Shelley biographies by Richard Holmes, Newman Ivey White, and James Bieri (these are the best and most comprehensive Shelley biographies with Holmes "Pursuit" in first place and Bieri a close second).

Mary Shelley's letters and journals are filled with memories of him, and she wrote about him in the editions of his works she edited: Posthumous Poems (1824), The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (1839), Essays, Letters from Abroad, Translations and Fragments (1840). It's so fascinating to read her intelligent analysis of his work knowing she was there when he wrote most of it, and to see her share some of her anecdotes about their life and things that inspired specific works of his. She always focuses on his writing and philosophies more than his personal life because of how much slander they had received due to their scandals, etc. (adultery, radical politics, atheism, the custody battle with his first wife's parents, etc.) -- I can't recall if she ever wrote an extended account of his appearance. She saw him as a soulmate and exalted his powerful inner spirit above all else, and described his physical frame as being a weak sort of chain which had bound him to the world, reflected in his poor health and restlessness.