#callsign II | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaitaiga · 27 days

Text

Archie “Frost” Campbell Profile

》[Open Profile] Disclaimer: as I’m still working through the lore of Task Force Dagger, Archie’s biography is still quite bare. Everything else is finished :)

General

Name: Archibald (Archie) Charles Campbell

Callsign: Frost

Age: 29

Birthday: 16th November, 1995 - Newcastle, NSW, Australia.

Face Claim: Callum Turner

Occupation: Fast Jet Pilot (F-35A Lightning II)

Affiliation: Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF - 75th SQN)

Rank: Flight Lieutenant (FLTLT)

Height: 183cm (6ft)

Education: Bachelor’s Degree in Aviation

Languages: English, Spanish, German

Appearance

Hair: Dark brown, wavy hair. Short back and sides.

Eye Colour: Grey

Facial Hair: Pencil moustache

Marks: None

Tattoos: None

Family

Unnamed Mother and Father

Grandfather (Former RAAF 460 SQN)

Pet: Vader (Black cat with white markings on face)

Affiliates

Task Force Dagger

Captain Lachlan Jones (2CDO)

Sergeant Damien Whitlock (2CDO)

Sergeant Daniel Greenhill (2CDO)

Sergeant Joseph “Joey” Hernandez (CCT)

Talullah Jones (ASIS)

Personality

Myers-Briggs Type: ISTJ (Logistician)

Honest and Direct: Archie is a straightforward, no-bullshit kind of person. Will tell his peers how it is without holding back.

Observer: Not one to talk much unless needed, Archie prefers to observe and analyse his peers or situation.

Archie is a level-headed person. He is calm and is able to keep his cool under difficult situations.

Archie doesn’t let his emotions drive his thought process. He is a logical person who bases his thoughts and opinions based on research and experience, and can become stubborn when he doesn’t particularly agree with something.

Skills

As a fighter pilot, Archie has inherited a range of skills apart from simply flying a fighter jet. There include:

Mental Skills: quick and accurate decisions, situational awareness.

Technical Skills: navigation, avionics, flight system and weapon proficiency.

Social Skills: effective communication, cooperation and working as a team, leadership.

Air Combat Manoeuvring (ACM), Fighter tactics and manoeuvres, etc.

Mission Planning

Maths and Physics, as well as creativity in situations.

Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape (SERE)

Archie also likes to partake in electrical work, commonly seen tinkering with devices and studying mechanical/electrical engineering concepts in his spare time.

Behind the Callsign

At a glance, “Frost” derives from his frosty attitude towards his peers around him. Being one to keep to himself majority of the time and only speaking when necessary, his attitude was often perceived as cold to others, even when he didn't mean it.

Though if you were to ask his squadron and ground crew, they’d tell you that they call him “Frost” due to his impressive flying skills, often leaving onlookers and other pilots frozen in awe. Almost like an advantage over opponents.

Biography

Archie was born in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia on the 16th of November, 1995. Growing up, Archie would listen to his grandfather’s stories of being a pilot on an Avro Lancaster throughout the majority of WW2. Though a little incoherent at times, Archie still enjoyed them regardless as they shaped his childhood and future to come.

Throughout high school, Archie would spend a lot of time volunteering at an aviation museum alongside his grandfather as a technician assistant, working on maintaining planes on display whilst rambling bits of information of various planes to visitors. Archie would also frequent RAAF base Williamtown, where he would stand just outside the base and watch Super Hornets scream over his head. He wasn’t the type to stand out among his classmates, much preferring to stick his head in a book and soak up as much information as he could on various aviation and engineering topics. He graduated with a top ATAR score of 97.

Thanks to his constant exposure to the Air Force along with his grandfather’s stories, Archie knew he wanted to become a fighter pilot from an early age. In his later years of high school and after, he worked diligently preparing for multiple officer and screening boards during his application process. He managed to score one of five spots out of hundreds of applicants.

Archie then attended the Australian Defence Force Academy (ADFA), where he pursued a Bachelor’s degree in Aviation. He would be a maths tutor to a few of his peers in his spare time, but most commonly Joseph, his newly made friend who he bonded with over their love for Star Wars.

Upon graduating ADFA, Archie was sent to Perth to begin his initial specialist employment pilot training (ISET), where he spent a year flying the PC-21. He graduated from Number 2 Flying Training School and was recommended by his instructors to pilot the newly introduced and mighty F-35A.

Now part of 75th Squadron, Archie is posted to RAAF base Tindal in the Northern Territory to continue his training, also managing to deploy overseas to various locations such as the US and Japan.

At some point, Archie was approached and recruited into Task Force Dagger on recommendation from Joseph. Working with TFD would show him his first set of real combat outside of simulations and practice exercises. To be continued…

*(Archie would have been 26 years old when the F-35A was first introduced into the 75th SQN, a few years after he graduated ISET (22-23 years old). For story purposes, assume the F-35 arrived earlier.)

Trivia/Preferences

His favourite music band is Daft Punk. His favourite song from them is ‘Face to Face’. Also likes Coldplay, Kenny Loggins, Phil Collins, Foo Fighters, Linkin Park, etc.

In his spare time, he also likes to build lego sets and model jets. He’s also a gamer, preferring to play games like Arma 3, League of Legends, Cyberpunk 2077, Helldivers 2, etc.

He likes to wear Rayban Aviators in the colourway black/black or gold/green.

He is a big fan of Star Wars. His favourite movie is ‘A New Hope’ and he also really enjoys ‘Star Wars: The Clone Wars’. His favourite characters are Wedge Antilles and Commander Wolffe.

He likes to spoil Vader rotten! Buys him all kinds of toys. Even has a Death Star cat house. He has a really big soft spot for Vader which Joseph likes to tease him about, quote: “he is the only one to knock down that icy wall he’s built around himself.”

When Archie chose his aircraft preference, he originally chose the F/A-18F Super Hornet.

If he didn’t become a pilot, he’d become a mechanical engineer.

After his grandfather passed, Archie carries his ID tags with him as a source of comfort and support.

Archie was inspired by the character ‘Viper’ from Titanfall 2 and the song “Dodge This”.

#woohooo finally!!#I was gonna post him and Joey together but nah #he’s just a guy #archie campbell #task force dagger #my oc #my art #military oc #pilot oc

97 notes · View notes

siilvan · 1 year

Text

bloodsport – II

prologue | part one | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: you never realized how boring captivity could be. you hate to admit it, but makarov is the only interesting thing around, and perhaps the closest thing you have to an ally in this place.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, inaccurate medical procedures, reader gets harassed :/, reader kills a dude, russian written by a non-russian speaker (please correct me if it's wrong!!)

word count: 3.7k

note: the temptation to write the filthiest makarov/reader/yuri fic is slowly taking over my brain. i'm begging activision to reveal my ex-war-criminal husband already bc i have two hands for a reason

true to his word, you don't see makarov for the rest of the day. after you're brought back to your cell and locked away, you take the time to rest and gather your thoughts. the lumpy bed provides little comfort as you try to sleep, but it's better than the cold floor. you manage to drift off eventually, even with every voice and sound in the corridor stirring you awake.

when you finally drag yourself out of bed the next morning, blinking away any lingering exhaustion and gently stretching your sore muscles, the sky is still dark. the storm that was raging all night had subsided for now, and through the single barred window on the back wall, you can see groups of soldiers outside. running drills, training in marksmanship, transporting supplies, patrolling the grounds - it reminds you of the bases you've visited with the team.

the team. you trudge over to the only other furniture in the room, the metal chair that you moved to sit near the window, and plop down onto the seat unceremoniously. with how muddled your mind has been since the conversation with makarov, you've hardly had time to think about them.

they're alive. you just need to keep telling yourself that. they'll come for you as soon as they can. all you can do until then is keep faith and survive.

as a pair of boots stomps down the hall towards your cell, you begin to ponder if taking matters into your own hands is the only way you'll escape. you're just as capable as the rest of your team, surely you can find a way out of this crumbling prison.

you turn your head at the sound of keys jingling. a guard is standing at your door, unlocking it, before looking at you. "let's go," he says, thick accent lacing every word. "you're on a schedule."

with a small wince, you rise from the chair and cross the room. the guard starts down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction that you went yesterday. you follow close behind, clammy palms wringing together. it almost feels like you're restrained again, with metal cuffs digging into your wrists and binding you, keeping you from struggling or defending yourself.

after descending a staircase and passing a few corners, you reach wherever the guard was taking you. he pushes a door open and ushers you inside, revealing a sizeable shower facility. you send him a cursory glance, confused as he motions for you to step further into the space.

"shower." he mutters, standing by the door. you wordlessly turn to the showers, then back to him.

"do you mind?" you ask, nodding towards the door. "i'd like a little privacy. it's not like i can tunnel my way out."

he shakes his head at first, refusing your request, until you decide to do the same, silently staring at him. a beat passes between you until he spins around, grumbling something along the lines of "hurry up," and exits the room. once the door slams shut behind him, you let out a relieved breath and walk over to one of the many stalls.

you scan the area before carefully undressing, paying close attention so as to not mess up your bandages or strain any of your healing injuries. you quickly dive past the thin curtain and toss your clothes over the curtain rod.

a string of curses fall from your lips when you twist the knob and cold water pours out of the shower head, prickling like ice against your skin. cleaning yourself up whilst protecting your bandages is a difficult task, but you manage to keep them relatively dry. you were in need of a fresh set, anyway. grains of sand and dust leftover from al-mazrah is washed down the drain, and as you start to adjust to the freezing temperature, some of your muscle aches follow suit.

a few minutes of relief pass by as you try to relax, though the bliss is short-lived when you remember your conversation from yesterday. you hate the thought of listening to makarov of all people, but did he have a point? are you truly just as bad as him, even with good intentions being your motivation?

you're well aware of what your job entails. as captain price so bluntly puts it: we get dirty, and the world stays clean. you know that some missions leave a sour taste in your mouth and a doubt in your mind. are you truly doing the right thing? can you do better? is there a way to save everyone?

as you shut off the water and attempt to dry off with a clean towel left on a small bench nearby, you realize that you're giving makarov exactly what he wants. he brought up the topic with the intent of messing with your head. he's trying to break you - for whatever reason, you're not sure. all you know is that you can't give up. you have to stay strong for the team.

you pull your clothes back on, nose scrunching at the uncomfortable feeling of damp gauze sticking to your skin. the guards seemed to bounce between civility and cruelty depending on the moment; perhaps you can catch someone in a good mood and request a replacement.

the door swings open and you jolt, spinning around to face the intruder. the man from earlier is standing in the doorway, a look of disinterest evident even through his balaclava. "you are done, yes?"

clearly he isn't the person to ask, you think, following him into the corridor. he leads you back down the same path as earlier, through winding halls and up a set of stairs, stopping once you arrive at the cell you call home. you keep an eye out for anyone along the way who looks to be doing well, searching for a person to seek help from.

no one catches your attention, leaving you only one option: the guard currently locking the door behind you.

"uh– can i ask you a question?" you turn around to look at him, wrapping your hands around the iron bars. he sends a small glare in your direction, but pauses nonetheless.

"what?" he murmurs, standing up straight.

you lift your arms, showing off the damp and gradually loosening bandages. "any chance i can get these changed?"

his eyes flit down to your arms, then back to your face. he sighs, heavy and deep, and grumbles out a reply. "i will get the doctor."

with that, he leaves your sight, lifting a hand to his radio and saying something that you can't understand. "should've agreed to those fucking russian lessons from price," you mumble, staggering across the room and sitting on the bed while picking at your loose gauze.

it feels like an hour passes by before you hear someone coming down the hall again. by this point, you were assuming that the guard had forgotten about you.

you sit up from your slumped position against the metal frame and are immediately greeted by a new person on the other side of the door. an older man, nicely dressed and carrying a heavy bag that you fear will topple him over, regarding you with a grin that feels out of place in this shithole.

"you must be petra," he starts, pushing the door open and letting himself inside. he keeps his distance, both hands visible and wrapped around the handle of the bag in front of his body. "doctor tarkovsky." he continues, introducing himself. you nod, watching closely as he approaches you and places his bag on the bed next to you. the chair is dragged over, much like the other day, and he sits.

"the work you did... you saved my life, doctor." you mutter, allowing him to take one of your arms into his gentle hold. he hums in reply, taking great care in undoing the dressings.

"спасибо, but it was not me that saved you." he chuckles softly, eyes briefly lifting from your arm to meet your gaze. "the commander was responsible for that. by the time you arrived here and into my care, he had managed to stabilize you."

he mumbles something to himself about "his military days" while dropping his gaze back down to your newly exposed skin. your eyes follow his, and you wince at the sight of burn marks and stitched lacerations. a cold breeze enters into the room through the window and stings as it sweeps over you, making you clench your hand into a tight fist.

"the commander? you mean makarov?" you ask, forcing yourself to look away and stare at the wall behind the doctor. the same man that put you here is the one that kept you alive. go figure. you glare holes into a random brick, trying to make sense of it. based on the few interactions that you've had with him, as well as the many things that price had to say, that kindness seems out of character.

the fact that he hasn't tortured you to the brink of insanity is odd enough.

"yes, he demanded that i give you the best treatment. said he wanted you alive and in good condition." the doctor rummages through the bag next to you and begins to clean your wounds and apply new dressings, deft hands making quick work of the process. you remain silent as he wraps your arm in a new set of bandages, waiting for him to finish.

you finally speak once he's halfway through rewrapping your other arm. "is he always so... touchy?" you murmur, almost a whisper.

"touchy?" he repeats the word.

"i think i pissed him off yesterday," you say, tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips. "ended up slammed against a wall. is he always so quick to anger?"

after securing the bandages on your arm, the doctor leans back and shakes his head. "commander makarov is usually the calmest person in a conversation," he replies with a surprised huff. "whatever you said or did must have struck a nerve, made him lose his temper. even the soldiers working under him struggle to do such a thing."

you furrow your brow at him. he waves off your befuddlement and gets started on treating your other injuries - namely, the large gash on your side and the burns on your back. as he's loosely wrapping your back in gauze, he makes another comment.

"it could be that you angered him, rather than what you did."

"i angered him?" you parrot back to him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder. the doctor nudges you forward again and hums affirmatively.

yet another thing that doesn't make any sense, you think. besides your affiliation with the one-four-one, there's nothing about you that should stand out to a man like makarov. you don't possess any top secret intel or really hold any importance to anyone outside of your team; so, why is he treating you so strangely? is it a game he's playing, trying to mess with his real enemy, the captain?

are you merely a pawn, a bargaining chip between two forces much bigger than yourself? makarov is dangling your life like bait, hoping to catch a better prize. you squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath, considering your options.

makarov would only hold onto you for one reason. drawing out captain price. that means price is alive, at least to makarov. if you stay here, you might be able to confirm this plan for yourself. however, if you can escape and deliver all the intel you've collected so far, you could prevent the plan from advancing any further. no matter which option you choose, rotting away in this prison cell won't help.

as kind as the doctor is, he's still one of makarov's men. you can't trust him. you're on your own.

"so, is it going to scar?" you inquire with a smile, fixing your shirt after he pulls away. he moves to gather his things, reaching into his bag and handing you a dose of painkillers.

he sighs and sends you another smile of his own. "the burns aren't deep enough, thankfully, and the lacerations shouldn't scar so long as they're properly cared for. you are very lucky."

"guess i am. thank you, again."

you swallow down the pills - dry, much to your chagrin - and give him a small wave as he exits the room, the iron door closing behind him with a soft clunk. the guard from earlier reappears to lock it moments later, leaving you trapped in the cell once more.

⋆⋆⋆

another five days pass by, and you mentally curse whatever higher power put you here. your routine remains largely unchanged: at roughly seven o' clock, one of the guards stops by to take you to the showers. by seven-thirty, the doctor arrives to change your bandages. you're given your only meal around noon and left to your own devices until eight in the evening, when the doctor arrives to change your bandages again.

you are slowly beginning to heal, at least. the lack of nutrition was stunting the process, but according to the doctor, you were still on the mend. it won't be long until you can get the stitches taken out.

you've spent several of these past one-hundred-and-twenty hours wondering if that's what makarov is waiting for. he wants you alive to torture, to indulge in breaking something fixed by his own hand. maybe the doctor is in on the plan. you wouldn't be surprised to discover that he's reporting your healing process to makarov, giving him a countdown of sorts.

as you rest on the cold, hard stone floor, with your back propped up against the side of the bed, tossing a rubber ball that you pocketed at the wall, you question if your paranoia is getting the better of you.

the rubber ball rolls across the ground after you throw it at the wall. it starts to come back to you, before bouncing off the edge of your boot and heading towards the door. you lazily follow it with your eyes, until you notice a person standing at the other side of the bars, their gaze transfixed on you.

it's a man wearing an outfit similar to the doctor's, though you can easily tell that he's substantially younger. in his late thirties to early forties, you estimate. he carefully kicks the ball out of his way after entering the room. you watch him like a hawk, an uneasy feeling washing over you.

"i'll be handling your care today." he announces, plopping his similarly-designed supply bag on the mattress. you pull yourself up to stand and dust yourself off, taking a healthy step back from him.

"something happen with doctor tarkovsky?" you ask as the younger man rummages through his bag and slips on a pair of latex gloves. he shakes his head, not even bothering to look at you, and continues searching through his supplies.

"tarkovsky is busy," he responds, motioning for you to sit. you hesitate for a second, but ultimately decide to shake off the nerves and follow his orders. "i'm going to start with your back today." he adds. you nod, moving to face away from him and lift your shirt up.

he's silent while replacing the gauze, and you're not sure whether you prefer that or talking. his touch is slightly less gentle, which you chalk it up to less experience. eventually, he moves on to the gash on your side, settling in the normal chair with an expression that you find hard to decipher.

your unease is suddenly validated as he cleans the stitches. his unoccupied hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, catching your attention. your eyes fall from the wall to his hand, then to the open bag at your side. laying near the top of it is a scalpel - small, but lethal in the right hands. you clear your throat and shift, bouncing your knee under his hold, testing the waters.

instead of removing his hand, he slips it just barely higher. you squint, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, debating on acting now or waiting a little longer. maybe he doesn't realize it.

as his hand slides higher, though, gloved fingertips digging into the plush of your thigh, that notion goes out the window. you slowly lower your hand closest to the bag and place it on the mattress next to it. the younger doctor pulls back, examining his work, his thumb rubbing languid circles into your skin. you act while he's distracted.

with trained proficiency, you grab the scalpel from the top of the pile and shove the man forward, slicing across his neck in one swift motion. he stumbles backwards, reaching up to desperately grasp at his throat as he chokes on the blood pouring from the open wound.

"don't fucking touch me again," you seethe, fixing your shirt and holding the scalpel in a white-knuckled grip. the sounds of him tripping over the chair and falling to the ground alerts the guards stationed in the corridor, who immediately rush through the door with their guns drawn and pointed at you.

they're shouting at you, but you can't make out what they're saying over the blood pounding in your ears. you turn away from the dying man and stare them down, unmoving from your spot in the middle of the room.

after a brief standoff, the guards suddenly look over their shoulders and shuffle away from each other, revealing a familiar face. one you haven't seen in almost a week, and assumed you wouldn't see for a while longer.

makarov steps to the front of the small group as the ringing in your ears begins to subside. his eyes dart from you to the man lying on the ground, having choked to death shortly before he arrived at the scene. he chuckles, low and controlled, and turns to the guards.

"убрать этот беспорядок," he mutters, waving towards the corpse. the men holster their guns and move past him, lifting the body up and carrying it out. as the group disappears down the hall, you find yourself alone with makarov. the scalpel slips from your fingers and clatters against the floor, pulling his focus back to you.

"well? are you going to punish me for that?" you ask plainly, the pool of red still visible in your peripheral vision.

"should i?" he counters, casually sauntering across the room. his gaze flits from yours to your cheek, which you soon realize is wet with the man's blood.

you shrug, shoulders drooping. "i killed one of your men. most people would punish a prisoner for less."

he wipes the blood off your cheek with his forefinger and huffs softly, seemingly pleased with the situation. it's only now that you notice his slightly disheveled appearance; his white dress shirt is untucked and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms that are covered in a light layer of dirt. minor cuts and bruises bloom on his skin, resembling self-defense wounds.

"i could never expect a member of the one-four-one to accept capture quietly," makarov remarks, picking the chair up off the floor. "i'm surprised it took you this long, if anything. i was expecting to receive reports by the second day."

he raps his knuckles against the seat twice, urging you to sit. you end up mirroring your first interaction after he sits on the bed across from you, elbows resting on top of his knees.

you grab a set of cleaning wipes from the bag forgotten at the foot of the bed and offer them to him. "so, i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?" you tilt your head to the side, regarding him with a sarcastic smile.

"like i said in our prior conversation," he takes the pack from your outstretched hand and haphazardly wipes his arms clean, the lack of care enough to make you inwardly flinch at the potential pain. "once traitors are found, they are dealt with."

"seems like they got to you first," you snort.

besides a pointed glare, he doesn't dignify your comment with a response. instead, he takes your arm into his hold, removing the old bandages with almost the same level of indifference that he treated his own injuries with.

"ow." you grunt, a bit overdramatic. in truth, his touch isn’t any less gentle than the doctor you just killed.

"stop complaining." he responds bluntly.

"maybe be more careful, then." you snap, tugging your arm back. you're being intentionally difficult, pushing his buttons, but you deserve to be a little shitty to the man holding you hostage.

makarov grabs your elbow, one of the few relatively uninjured parts of your arm, and yanks you forward, until your free hand slams down onto the space next to him to catch yourself from falling. he leans in, your noses nearly touching, and sneers.

"this is the extent of my kindness, petra." he tightens his hold when you try to create some distance, locking you in place. "do not tempt me to withdraw it." he whispers, dark eyes boring into yours.

you swallow back a whimper as his grip tightens again, blunt nails digging into healing skin, nodding in reply. he releases you a moment later and resumes his previous actions, quickly yet effectively rewrapping your arm. you grudgingly decide to cooperate for the other set, making it go by much faster than the last.

"tarkovsky said you're usually pretty calm," you mumble as he secures the bandages in place. "is it the one-four-one that frustrates you so easily? or, am i just a special case, hm?"

makarov, clearly interested in continuing the running theme since your first meeting, does not respond. you really should get used to it. you say nothing more as he stands up and grabs the discarded supply bag, walking towards the door. he pauses, holding the door open, and you nearly miss the words said to you over his shoulder.

"anyone else would be dead already."

translations:

спасибо (spasibo) - thank you

убрать этот беспорядок (ubrat' etot besporyadok) - clean up this mess

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <;3)

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

323 notes · View notes

sunnysidevans · 1 year

Text

Red Carnations - J.Seresin

Summary: A Red Carnation signafies your heart aches for that person.

Jake left red carnations at your headstone every year, until he wasn't and you were staring back at him, alive.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Pilot!Reader - Callsign: Hela.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of death, mentions of accidents/injury. Mentions of nightmares, fluff and some angst.

This is part II to "Middle Of A Memory" which you can find here.

a/n: woah. I didn't expect the two of these to get so much love but I am so happy it has! the long anticipated part two.. it's here! I hope this lives up to what everyone was hoping for. Thank you for sticking with me and having patience with me. <;3

happy reading!!

Year: One.

The summer sun was hot on his skin as Jake sat on the now green grass. The headstone stared back at him, “Y/N, “Hela” Y/L/N” he reads softly to himself as he reaches over, wiping some dirt out of the letters. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year Hels” he watches the way the leaves flow with the wind, as if you were listening to him.

“I still can’t even listen to Foreigner without thinking about you,” he chuckles, running a hand along his face. He had stubble on his cheeks, choosing to take his leave to come to New York and see you. “I need to go home and see mom but she knows how much this means to me” he whispers, smiling slightly to himself. “I miss you so much beautiful” he stands and brushes some grass from his jeans as he sets down the small bouquet of red carnations.

His mother always saying that a red carnation means you were aching for that person. He smiles sadly as they sit perfectly on your headstone. He takes a deep breath and looks to the sky to prevent more tears from rolling down his cheeks. There was a knowing smirk on his face as he knew you’d be teasing him, all in good fun. He kisses his fingertips, laying them atop the stone, walking towards his hotel.

“How’d it go?” His mom’s voice is soft on the other line, understanding. “It was nice, I felt her with me” he admits, pushing the hair out of his face as he walked the busy sidewalk. “Are you gonna come home?” she asks tentatively, “I think so mama, I-” he chokes up then, biting back the tears.

“You need your mama, you can admit it” she smirks but she knows her son. “My flight leaves in a few hours” he whispers, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans to pull out the keycard to his room.

“What flowers did you leave for her?” she asks as he shuts the door behind him, “red carnations”. She smiles sadly, nodding, “okay baby, I will see you soon then? Gracie is home too” he smiles at the mention of his sister.

"Of course, how is she holding up?” he asks as she sighs, she looks back at the younger Seresin who sat curled up on the couch with her father like she was six again. “She could really use her big brother right now” he nods.

“I will be home soon” she nods, knowing he can’t see her. “I love you” he smiles, “I love you mama” he hangs the phone up then, looking down at the text staring back at him.

Raven: Thinking of you today. I found this and thought it might make you smile.. *1 attachment *

The tears he tried so hard to prevent started to fall freely. A photo of you and Jake, it was from when you first met him in Tennessee. He stood behind you, his arm across your chest as the two of you looked at the other, your smile was wide and Jake's eyes were dripping with love.

He sobs, his head falling forward as he sits on the edge of the bed. The two people in the photo were not ones he recognized. “It’s bullshit Hela '' he mumbles to himself, tossing the phone aside as he brushes the tears off his cheeks, taking a deep breath.

Jake landed in Austin almost two hours later. His sister's grin meets him in the airport. She covered her tears with a smile as he made his way to her, his own smile hiding his own tears. “Jakey” she whimpers as her brother approaches.

“It’s okay Gracie, c’mere” he’s dropping his bag and wrapping her in his arms, her head nuzzling into his chest. He can feel her sniffle against the tshirt he wore, kissing the top of her head, he squeezes her body. “I got you, let’s go home yeah?” he asks softly as she nods, wrapping her arm around his waist and walking to the parked car.

The car ride was silent, the radio played softly and the silence was almost deafening as the Foreigner song picked up on the radio. “Shit” she quickly reaches for the seek button or anything to turn the song off. “No” he stops her, looking at her with a wide smile.

“I want to hear it"

He admits as he turns the song up louder, looking out the window with his sunglasses perched on his nose. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Kelly Hansen’s voice filling his ears.

He can’t help but sing along softly. Gypsy smiles from her seat, looking at her older brother from her peripheral, he looked at peace for one of the rare moments in the last year.

Year: Three

The red circle stared back at him. Red and screaming as he stood in front of the calendar.

Three years to the date he’s been without you.

He couldn’t take leave this year and was stuck on base training. He shuts the locker with a slam and walks out of the locker room. The murmuring of the other pilots stops at his outburst, watching as he walks out of the room.

He puts the sunglasses on his face and walks past the squad room where the dagger squad sat. Gypsy looks up as her brother's boots walk along the linoleum floor. “What’s his problem?” Payback asks as she looks down at her phone. The date stared back at her. “It’s today” she looks at Raven who nods sadly. “I’ll go talk to him” Bradley stands, leaning down to kiss the top of Raven’s head, following the older Seresin.

Jake tosses his bag into the passenger seat of his truck, going to get in when Rooster's voice stops him. “Hangman!” he jogs up to the Chevy, looking at Jake. “Hey” Bradley looked at him, Jake's face was stone, he hid his emotions better especially in front of anyone on the squad. “I know what today is,” Rooster whispers, moving closer to him. “I expect you too” Hangman mumbles, looking at Rooster.

“You know I understand don’t you? I grieve my parents everyday” Rooster says, watching as Jake shuts the door to his truck gently. “I know you do Rooster and thank you” he nods to him in thanks, “I-I just need to be alone okay?” taking the aviators off, Rooster nods at the sadness in his eye. “Of course, I’m just a phone call away okay?” Jake nods, sending him a sad smile and climbing behind the wheel of his truck.

The living room was silent. Jake couldn’t bring himself to even turn the television on. He can hear the soft tick of the clock as the minutes go. He takes a deep breath before he’s grabbing his phone, pulling up the group chat with the Dagger Squad.

Coyote: Hard Deck?

Fanboy: I'm in!

Phoenix: Same!

Gypsy: Bob and I are gonna stay in, I’m not up to it.

He stops reading the texts, standing and shoving the phone in his pocket as he grabs his jacket and leaves the house. The house still had so much of you even after three years, he took over your lease of the beachfront home. He couldn’t bear it going to anyone else.

He drove to the flower shop down the street, he knew what he was there for. The sweet woman smiled at him as the bell above the door dings. “Can I help you?” she asks as he smiles, looking around at all the flowers and plants lining the walls.

“Yes actually, do you have any red carnations?”

She smiles a wide smile, holding a finger to him and makes her way back to the back of the store.

The breeze was cold on his skin as he stood on the sand. The carnations were held securely in his hands as he took a deep breath, taking in the saltiness of the sea. Rooster notices him as he stands in the Hard Deck, grabbing his own jacket, he makes his way outside.

“Hangman?” Jake turns and for one of the first times in their friendship, Rooster can see the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Hey Rooster '' Jake is wiping his cheeks, turning back to the water. Rooster moves beside him, holding his hand out to him. Jake furrows his brows as Bradley motions to the flowers. “Let me have one” he mumbles as Jake takes the small bouquet and gives one to the man beside him.

“Red Carnation?” he asks as Jake nods slowly, “they mean you ache for that person, I’ve been leaving them for Hela for years” he whispers, voice breaking slightly. Bradley nods, smiling sadly at Hangman. “I can’t even look at the ocean the same now that she’s gone” Bradley is surprised at the confession as he nods. “I couldn’t go to the beach for a long time once my dad died” he replies as Jake looks at him with a sad smile.

“I know you didn’t know Hela but she was… so fun and she loved all things in life” he smiles sadly as he turns back to the water. “She’d want to be with the sea, even though that’s where she died,” he chuckles softly. Bradley nods, “tell me more about her'' he asks as Jake looks over at him. “Raven probably tells you enough” he chuckles, wiping his cheeks. “The basics'' he admits as Jake nods.

“She was very fun, always had a joke about something” he smiles as he chuckles, “I pulled her off the bar once, dancing to a scorpion’s song in Tennessee '' he smiles as Bradley nods. “I bet she was fun” Jake chuckles, nodding “she was”'. Jake turns towards Bradley with a sad smile, “Thanks alot for this Bradshaw '' Bradley nods, reaching over and slapping his shoulder with a squeeze. “Of course,” he smiles.

Jake makes his way to the shoreline with Bradley, crouching down to let the Carnation flow with the water, watching as Bradley lets the one in his hands go. “Another year without you Hells Bell” he stands watching as the flowers float into the ocean. “It never gets easier, does it?” he asks as Bradley stands beside him. "No, no it doesn’t but you have an army behind you” Bradley looks over at him as he chuckles, “you mean navy?” the two of them laugh.

“Let’s go get a drink, what was her favorite drink?” Bradley asks as they make their way up the sand. Jake laughs, looking at Bradley,

“A sex on the beach” .

Present day.

Cyclone and Warlock watch the way the two of you look between each other. Jake takes in your state, the way your bruises are so fresh and how the split in your lip looked as it almost stung as you smiled at him.

“What-” he’s panting, looking around the room as it starts to feel small, he was not one to get claustrophobic but he was almost suffocated by the walls. “Can we have a minute?” he can’t believe he’s even hearing your voice outside of a Voicemail. Cyclone and Warlock nod, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind them.

He doesn’t notice as you make your way to him, hands moving from the pockets of your jacket. Jake could sob at the bruises on your knuckles as your still soft hands reached out for him. “Jake” you are whispering, reaching out to him slowly, his eyes meeting your bruised one. “How-” he’s shaking his head, pacing the room. You stand there, shoving your hands back into the jacket pockets.

The room is silent. The only sound is Jake’s boots along the concrete floors. “Say something” you say, standing in front of him as his boots stop and he turns to you. His heart aches as he looks you over. “How are you even alive right now Hela?” he asks, watching as you take a deep breath, watching over his face.

“I survived the crash Jake '' he nods slowly, his brows furrowed.

“Doesn’t answer how I buried you almost five years ago,mourned you for almost five years!” he looks at you, breathing heavily as his voice raises. “i-I was on the search team looking for you! We looked for you!” he yells, watching the way you almost folded up onto yourself. “They found me before you did” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’ve been held up in an enemy camp since the accident” you can see his boots are in your vision.

“They finally realized they were getting nowhere” His hands are soft as they reach out for your cheek, you flinch against his hand. “Sweet girl” he whispers, thumb tilting your chin up to face him. He sobs at the look on your face, fear and pain. “I didn’t mean for you to mourn me Jake” you move away from him, you begin to pace. “Any of you, Gypsy, Raven” pushing the hair out of your face, wincing at the pain as you brush a cut on your eyebrow.

“Hela” he's reaching for you and soon his arms are around your body as the two of you fall to the floor.

He’s cradling you in his lap as the two of you sob, his chin resting on your head as he holds you closer. “My poor girl,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as the sobs shake your body against his chest. “I’m so sorry” you sob harder, gripping his arm tightly as he shakes his head,

“You are here and alive baby” he whispers.

It felt like hours as the two of you sat on the office floor, held up together. “I missed you so much” you whisper, gripping his arm as he rocked the two of you. “I missed you even more baby” he whispers, kissing the top of your head. The knock on the door pulls the two of you to stand, Warlock and Cyclone make their way back in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, just wanting to check in” Warlock smiles sadly at you , you nod sending them a smile. “You can have Lieutenant Seresin back, thank you for bringing him to me Cy” Cyclone nods with his own smile, looking between the two of you.

Turning to Jake who is also wiping his cheeks, you smile and reach up to cup his cheeks. “I want you to go out there and fly, I know this is going to be hard to process but, we will tell the girls later okay?” he nods, kissing your palm.

You smile, leaning up to kiss the lips you waited years to kiss again. He pulls you closer to him by the waist as he chases your lips once the two of you part. “Promise?” you nod, smiling wider, “I promise”. He smiles, kissing your forehead as your eyes close.

“Fly fast” he smirks against your hairline, “Fly safe” he whispers back.

“Jakey!” he stops at his sister's voice, turning to face her. “Gyps” he smiles at her behind his aviators. “Are you okay? You were in Cyclones office for a while” she’s panting, her helmet in her hands as he nods. “I’m alright Gyps' ' he walks past her with nothing more, walking past the rest of the squad to his own jet. You made your way through the halls of Top Gun, listening over the comms at what was happening in the sky.

“Don’t worry Phoenix, Hangman’s coming” you smile, hugging the jacket tighter to your body. Walking back to Cyclone’s office, he looks up from the papers. “Are you okay?” he asks as you watch the planes out the window. “I am. I-I got to see Jake and that means alot to me” you whisper, shoving your hands back into the pocket of the jacket.

“Thank you again Cyclone really” you look back at him as he smiles, standing. “Of course Hela, we are so happy to know you are back” you smile sadly as he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Pilots are landing, would you like me to go out and get the other Seresin and Cain?” he asks as you nod, looking up at him, “bring both seresin’s in please?” he nods with a grin in the doorway, “you got it”.

The tarmac was warm as the sun was going down, Raven and Gypsy both doing their rounds of push ups when Hondo stopped counting. “Lieutenants Seresin and Cain, I need you both in my office please, when you are ready” he nods to Hondo, Cyclone makes his way back inside, passing hangman as he goes, “you too Hangman”.

Raven looks over at Gypsy and then looks at the older Seresin by the door. “What is going on?” She whispers to Gypsy as they make their way down the hallway. She stood beside her brother who remained cool as a cucumber. “Uh, Gypsy” he turns to the two of them, stopping them outside the office door. “You both are gonna be shocked and- I know it might be confusing” Gypsy furrows her brows, looking up at her brother.

“Jake, just spit it out” she defends, arms across her chest as he nods. Knocking on the door gently, he hears your soft come-in as he opens the door. Raven and Gypsy follow behind the older Seresin who’s shielding you from their vision, a smile so wide on his face it could light up a dark room, “ready?” he mouths as you nod with your own smile, “ready”.

“Raven, Gypsy” you look at your two best friends with a sad smile, hands still shoved in your pockets as the two girls gasp. “No fucking way” Raven starts pacing as she looks between you and Jake and then back at you. “There is no fucking way!” she points at you with a scowl on her lips.

“Jakey..” Gypsy whispers, eyes trained on you as she turns to her brother. You smile at the two of them, making your way to Gypsy and holding a hand out to her. “It's me, Gyps” she sobs, taking your outstretched hand, pulling your body into her own and hugging you tightly.

Closing your eyes, holding back more tears, you hug her tighter. “I’m so sorry” you whisper as she shakes her head, sniffling, “don’t you be sorry! You are here and alive!” she cups your cheeks, a shy smile on her face as you wince. You smile down at her, kissing her palm gently as she sobs with a wide smile. You look over in your peripheral as Raven continues pacing.

“Hold on” you whisper, walking towards her slowly, “Ray” you whisper. It was almost slow motion as she turned around and her hand connected with your cheek. Turning from her, you hold your cheek and close your eyes.

“Raven” Jake steps in, moving to stand between the two of you. She looks up at Jake with a sob. “How is this possible Jake!'' she yells, looking at him and then behind him, you are wiping your lip on the sleeve of your jacket.

“It’s true, Raven” he looks down at her as she sobs, slapping his chest as he brings her into a hug. “She died! She died and I watched her casket go into the ground!” he’s rubbing her back soothingly. “I know, I know,” he whispers with a nod, “so did I” he reminds her.

“Raven'' you move to stand beside the two of them as she looks over at you. She notices the fresh blood on your lip, the bruises along your skin as well as your swollen eyebrow. “I will tell you everything I promise” you say as she sobs.

“I watched them bury a casket Hela '' she whispers as you nod. “It was empty, they told my mom they couldn’t find my body. They couldn’t find it because it was already recovered” you whisper as her sobs slow. “Hela” she whimpers as you nod, a smile on your lips.

“It’s me, Ray” she pulls you into her body, hugging you tightly as you smile, looking up at Jake who can’t help the grin on his own lips. “It’s me Ray I promise” you whisper again, hugging her tighter.

The nights were quiet. They were too quiet for your jukebox mind. The mug sat between your hands as you sat on the couch, the soft ticking of the clock above the television kept your focus. Knees pulled to your chest, you rested the cheesy Navy mug ontop of them.

The faded Naval academy shirt sat down to your mid thigh as you focused on the soft ticking. So focused, you don’t hear the sound of the floorboard right in front of the bathroom creak. Jake leans against the wall that leads into the living room, he watches the way you looked off almost in a trance. His arms cross over his chest as he decides his next move.

He often found you there, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in the early hours of the morning. The two of you were in the Navy but you never got up before the alarm. That was until your accident. You would sleep a mere few hours and then he’d find you out on the couch. He pushes off the wall and walks towards you. His approach is slow so he doesn’t startle you, smiling softly as your eyes meet his.

“Lover” you whisper, sitting up to set the mug aside and looking up at him through your lashes. “Hey sweet girl” he whispers, sitting down on the coffee table to face you. “Did I wake you?” you ask as he shakes his head, elbows resting on his knees.

You've been home now for two months, you did your best to hide the emotions from everyone, hide the nightmares and hide the pain you still were feeling. He looks you over with his own sad smile, looking over your face, all your bruises were healed, a small scar remained on your eyebrow. He reaches forward and smooths his finger over it, watching the way your eyes fall closed. “Another one?” he whispers as you nod against his palm. “Sit with me?” you ask, eyes reopening to look up at him.

His heart clenches at the look in your eye as he nods, moving to lay on the couch, his head falling in your lap. “What was it like?” you ask softly, running your fingers through his blonde strands. “What's that?” he asks, eyes falling closed. “What were the years like? I feel like I missed so much” you admit looking down at him. “Hard” he mumbles behind a yawn, “so hard Hels, I-I had a hard time flying after the accident, they grounded me for about two weeks” he admits as your nails gently scratched his scalp.

“Raven finally talked some sense into me, told me you’d be pissed I was grieving so… hard? She told me you’d want me to try and fly and be the best pilot” you smile sadly, nodding as you sip the now cold coffee. “I would’ve told you to stop feeling sorry for yourself” you whisper as he chuckles softly, “I figured that, so I flew with a photo of you in the cockpit every single day” he admits as you smile sadly.

“Hela?” he asks, his speech slurred as you hum in response. “I want to marry you, ya know? I thought about how if you were still alive that we would be the hottest couple in the Navy” you chuckle softly, looking down at his now sleep filled eyes. “Are you asking me to marry you cowboy?” His smile is goofy and lopsided.

“Someday I will, the right way with a perfect ring and setting for us” you smile, patting his chest. “Let's get you to bed lover” he smiles, standing as you reach over, turning off the lamp beside you and following down the hallway.

The sun was bright in the sky as Jake stood on the tarmac. He watched as everyone got into their planes. “How is she doing?” Gypsy asks her older brother, he looks over at her with a hum. “Her nightmares are getting worse, barely sleeps” he admits, shoving the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Poor thing” she whispers as he shakes his head, “She tries to hide them from me,I find her on the couch every night” he looks over at his sister with a sad smile.

“We will get through it though, she will, her bruises are healing and so is she, one day at a time” he nods, he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself. She nods, looking up at him, “Well, maybe if she feels up to it, bring her to the Hard Deck tonight! She should meet the squad!” she grins, walking towards Bob and Phoenix.

He nodded, making his way towards his own plane, climbing the ladder. Maybe going out to the hard deck, meeting and seeing everyone would help.

The Jukebox was soft and flowed through the open windows beautifully. You smiled, standing at the end of the stairs of The Hard Deck. This place brought back so many good memories for you.

Climbing the steps, you take a deep breath and push through the dark green door. The smell of beer and fried food filled your nose. Jake insisted he go without you, he wanted to give you a chance to come on your own time. You smile as you notice the back of his head at the pool tables, Raven and Gypsy as well.

“Hela?” you look over at the soft voice, Penny Benjamin is smiling behind the bar. She knew you were alive, Maverick told her about your arrival back on base, she remembered you from Top Gun.

“Penny?” you ask in a soft voice as she is rounding the bar and making her way to you. “I thought he was lying..” she whispers, smiling wider at the smirk on your lips. “Captain Mitchell is no liar” you smile as she laughs, pulling you into a hug.

Penny became a safe space for you, she listened to you cry about how much you loved your best friend when you attended top gun, how you would never be anything more than his wingman. “Would you like a sex on the beach?” she grins at the smile that was wide on your face, for once it met your eyes. “I would love one Penny” she makes her way back to the bar.

The pool game seemed intense. You watch as Jake bends over to take the shot, smirking as you whistle behind your straw. The group turns at the sound, Jake smirks and takes the shot, standing back to his full height. “Hey sweetheart” he grins as he walks towards you. Looking up at him, you smirk ”Hi lover”.

He leans down kissing your lips with a grin. “Everyone” he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “I introduce to you, Y/N aka Hela” you smile. The group watches the way your eyes bounce through them all before a smirk breaks out on your face. “Let’s see, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback” you point to each aviator who nods with a smile.

“Bob” you smile at the WSO who shares a soft smile with you, “aka the love of Gypsy’s life?” you question the younger Seresin who blushes beside her boyfriend. Bob pulls her into his side by her waist. “Nice to meet you formally Hela” he shakes your hand as you grin.

“What did I miss?” you smirk at the voice, turning to face Raven and Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw as I live an breath” Jake chokes on the sip of your drink he was taking as the squad try hiding their laughs.

Bradley stands in his Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses perched on his tank top. “Oh god there's two of them” you chuckle with a smirk moving closer to him, hands on your hips as you tilt your head.

“Nice to meet you formally Bradshaw” you hold a hand out to him as he shakes it slowly, pulling you into his chest for a hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you Hela” he whispers only to you, wrapping your arms around him, you grin.

“It’s so nice to meet all of you” you turn to the group, holding a hand out to Jake. “I'm sorry you've had to deal with Hangman for so long” he scoffs, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.

The bar was still full by the A.M hours. Jake turns to his left, which he finds empty. “Oh no” he whispers to himself as Coyote looks at him with a raised brow. “What’s wrong?” Coyote asks as Jake sighs, “I can’t find Hela, which can only mean two things” he sighs.

The jukebox changes and he hears your laugh. He was happy to hear that laugh again, eyes closing as the opening notes of Scorpions “Rock you like a Hurricane” plays through its speakers.

You turn to face him a grin as bright as the stars as you hand penny the empty glass. You were on drink five by now, cheeks flush as you climb up onto the hard deck bar.

You walk the bar, singing to him the opening verse. You smirk, “my cat is purring, it scratches my skin, so what is wrong with another sin?” he grins.

“Gentleman” he turns to the dagger squad who watches as you circle your hips along the bar. “This is Hela” he smirks, handing his now empty beer to Coyote who takes it with a chuckle. He walks towards the bar as your dress sways with your hips, hands running up your sides, landing on your breasts. “Oh lover” you grin at the sight of him, moving to the edge of the bar to look down at him. “Hi beautiful girl, let's get you home yeah?” he asks as you shake your head.

Him and Penny share a look as he reaches forward, his hands are soft on the back of your knee caps as he is pulling you over his shoulder. Just like the night in Tennessee you are face to face with his jean clad butt.

You squeal, gripping his shirt tightly as he walks towards the door, his hand holding down the ends of your dress. “Penny, I’ll be back for our tab!” he yells back over his shoulder. “No worries!” she yells back with a smile.

He holds your thighs with one arm as he opens the passenger side door, gently setting you against the warm leather seats. You fall into the seat, legs facing him as your eyes look up at him, full of love.

“Will you marry me cowboy?” he chuckles, hands resting on your knees as he smiles, “you know in a heartbeat”. He shuts the door after he gets you inside, a grin on his lips as he makes his way to the driver's side. He finds you there, messing with the radio.

“Play me something” you sigh, leaning back into the seat with a huff. He grins, messing with his phone as he plays the one song he knew would make you smile.

“Oh my god!” you laugh, looking over at Jake who smirks, turning out of the Hard Deck and onto the main road. You lean against the window, hair flowing with the wind as you sing loudly.

“When you love someone, it feels so right, so warm and true” you sing loudly and off-key.

Jake wouldn’t trade it for the world, five years without you coming crashing onto him.

Five years without this, without you singing to him at three in the morning.

“You make me feel alive Jake,” he smiles, kissing your knuckles as he pulls your interlaced fingers to his lips.

“I waited a long time for a girl like you Hela” you grin, falling back into the seat as you watch the world pass by you.

The office was stuffy as you walked in. The room was bare, nothing much to the walls but plaques. Full of mostly browns and begie paint covering the walls.

It was your first day back on base, you would be working with other victims of air accidents, still too nervous to climb back into the cockpit.

You walk towards the desk, head tilting at the small vase sat in the middle. Setting your bag down beside you, moving towards the small bouquet of red carnations.

Reaching forward, you pick up the small card that was placed in front of them,

“For my favorite goddess of death, have a wonderful first day. J x”

those who requested to be tagged: @dempy , @laneyspaulding19, @peakascum, @angelbabyange,@mallerz, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy,@untoldshortsofthefandoms, @jstarr86,@lovemesomevesey,@f1maverick,@chloeforde, @callsignwidow - if i missed anyone, i do apologize, please pass this along!

thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope this second part lives up to what is everyone is hoping for. please share your thoughts as rebolgs as well as my ask box are always open!

if you enjoyed this fic, you can find all my other work in The Library.

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

458 notes · View notes