#maverick top gun

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Do you think that when Rooster tries to eject and can't, before Hangman saves them, that he gets an answer to the question he's had for most of his life? He finally knows what his dad felt before he died, that fear, that hope dying as you realise you're stuck and can't do anything? Do you think he realises everything about why Mav pulled his papers, apart from his mum of course, that realised how traumatising it was for him to know his backseater, his best friend, died? Do you think it really set things in place for him understanding and forgiving Mav? Do you think he realised his mum was also the reason, when he thought about how his mum lost his dad so tragically?

[fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur]

[During the first briefing]

Maverick: Any questions?

Hangman: *raises his hand*

Maverick: Yes. The guy Bradley has a crush on.

Dagger Squad: *blinks*

Hangman: *blushes hard*

Rooster: *stares at Maverick in disbelief*

[awaywith-thefaeries]

HANGMAN’S A WHAT NOW!? | j.seresin

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x wife!reader

summary: after the uranium mission, the dagger squad is assigned more permanently to the San Diego base, so Jake and his wife make plans to move their little family out to SoCal. The rest of the dagger squad is quite surprised to find out that Hangman even has a wife, when she joins them for a beach day, with some little surprises in tow.

warnings: pure, tooth-rotting fluff, Jake being a girl dad

a/n: this is just a little piece I came up with a 4 a.m. last night. reblogs are greatly appreciated. feel free to send in requests for any of the characters on my page, my requests are open!

word count: 2k

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Mama, are we almost there yet?”

You smiled softly at your daughter, cuddling as close to her sister as the seatbelt in the back of the car will allow her.

“Almost, Liv,” you say gently.

“Okay then, Mama,” your daughter sighs, her head falling onto her sister's, where she is snoozing on Olive’s shoulder.

You smile at your twin girls, who had been so good for you while you drove from your old home in rural Texas, to join their father in San Diego, where he has been more permanently stationed after the success of the last mission he had been called back to Top Gun for. The girls adored their father and it has been a hard couple of months without him, for all three of you. You know it has been hard on Jake too. He acted happy for the girls on their frequent FaceTime sessions, but you’ve known Jake too long to not catch the sadness in his eyes as he read them a bedtime story and watched them fall asleep without being able to tuck them into their blankets, smooth their hair back from their faces and kiss them goodnight.

Which is why you had packed up the girls, and all your essentials three days before schedule, so you could finally reunite with your beloved husband. You have been in contact with the only one of your husband's fellow pilots you’ve met, his friend Javy (or Coyote to his team), who let you know that the whole squad was having a beach day today, which is where you are headed now.

You look around at the houses on either side of the street as you follow the GPS to the location Coyote sent you, somewhere called The Hard Deck. He had texted you that you could park your van in the lot, and then go through the bar (which isn’t open this early in the afternoon, he assured you) to get to the beach on the other side.

Passing under a row of palm trees, you pull into the parking lot of the small beachside bar you have heard so much about from your husband and turn into the open spot in between Jake’s truck and a shiny Bronco.

Putting your keys in your bag, you open your door and climb out, brushing your long skirt out as you make your way around the front of the car to open the door your girls are sleeping next too.

Opening it gently, you brush you fingers through Charlotte’s dark blonde hair, so similar to her daddy’s.

“Lottie, baby, it’s time to wake up, we’re here,” you whisper to her. She stirs a little, blinking bleary green eyes up at you as a tiny hand comes up to rub her face. The arm movement jostles Olive, who picks her head up and yawns.

“Come on, my loves, can you undo your seatbelts and stand next to Mama, so I can make sure you look so pretty to see Daddy again?”

With that question, the identical faces of the best gifts Jake has ever given you light up, as if remembering where they are and why they had been driving in the car for two days.

Within seconds, your twins are standing side by side, bobbing up and down on their toes in excitement as you check that their adorable little matching outfits have not been wrinkled too much by the car ride. Once you re-tie Charlotte’s hair bow, which had come undone in the car, you take each of your daughters hands in each of yours and lead them into the empty bar.

Passing through the doors that lead onto the sand, your girls gape at the sight of the ocean sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

“Mama,” Olive says, mouth hanging open, “it’s so big.”

“Yeah, baby, it goes on for miles and miles.”

“Mama, mama, mama, look!” Charlotte bounces in place next to you and squeezes the hand she’s holding onto. “I can see Daddy!”

You turn to look where she’s pointing and sure enough, a tiny ways down the beach, you spot your husband, throwing around a ball with another man in board shorts. The man throws his head back and laughs at something Jake says.

“Mama, can we go! Can we do the surprise now, please?” Olive asks, so sweetly that your heart melts a little bit as you nod at your daughter.

“Go knock him over with the biggest hug ever, girls!” You say as you start walking again, releasing their hands so that they can run ahead.

✯✯✯✯

“Nice try, Bradshaw,” Jake yells to his friend as Rooster throws a particularly hard ball, causing Jake to have to side step to catch it.

“One day man,” Rooster grins, “one day, I’ll get you.”

Jake is just about to come up with a witty retort when he hears something he thought he wasn’t going to hear for another couple of days.

“Daddy!”

“Daddy!”

Two little voices he knows better than anything. Jake whips around in disbelief, forgetting Rooster and the game of catch in an instant as he spots his little girls running towards him, dressed adorably in little matching outfits.

Jake takes a few steps towards his girls and then drops into the sand just in time for them to come crashing into him, arms going round his neck and bodies thumping into him with such force, he goes sprawling back in the sand with his babies on top of him. He holds them there for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of them in his arms again, their puffs of laughter tickling his neck.

After a few moments, he sits up effortlessly, still holding onto the two five year olds and sets them onto their feet. Pulling out of the hug just far enough to look at their faces, Jake’s right hand comes up to stroke Olive’s hair out of her eyes while his left stays firmly around Charlotte’s waist.

“What are you doing here, you two?”

“We come early, Daddy!” Olive says, her little hand coming up to touch Jake’s cheek.

“Mama said we should surprise you!” Charlotte says, her voice muffled from where she’s pressed her face into her father’s neck.

“Did she now?” Jake asks playfully, looking up just as a pair of legs he knows very well stop in front of him. He lets his eyes trail upwards until they meet yours and he swears, he doesn’t think there will ever be a time where he isn’t affected by that beautiful smile.

“Hi Darlin,” he grins, letting go of his babies for only a moment to get to his feet before putting his hands on their heads as they wrap themselves around a leg each.

“Hey Handsome,” you smirk back, and Jake can’t help but close the tiny distance between you to press a kiss to your lips.

He feels so content in this moment, all three of his girls are finally with him after too long (in his opinion) apart, that it’s a bit jarring when Rooster’s voice breaks through his little bubble of happiness.

“I’m sorry, what the fu….rick is going on here?”

Jake laughs against your lips before pressing one last final kiss to them before pulling away and turning to see the rest of his team, save Coyote, gaping at him.

“What does it look like, Bradshaw,” Jake smirks, as Rooster rubs his ribs where Phoenix evidently elbowed him to keep him from cursing in front of the two little girls still hanging onto their father.

“It looks,” Phoenix jumps in, trying to sound mad, but failing because of the shit eating grin on her face, “like you’ve been keeping secrets, Bagman.”

You’re intoxicating laugh has Jake turing back to you, a betrayed look in his eyes, an over exaggerated pout on his lips.

“Baby?” He whines, purposefully making his bottom lip jut out and quiver slightly. You laugh again, leaning forward to kiss away his frown.

“Oh hush…..now, is your Daddy going to introduce us to the squad, or are we gonna have to report back to Grandma Seresin about his manners,” you say cheekily, leaning down to address the last part of your question to the twins. They both giggle and pull on Jake’s hands, while he stares down at his little family.

“Alright, no need to involve my mama,” he says, grinning, “who wants a ride over?”

Both of his daughters look up at him with matching grins, before Olive reaches up and starts shouting, “Sandwich, sandwich!”

“Oh alright!” Jake sighs dramatically, before taking her hands in both of his and swinging her up onto his back. Once he’s sure her little legs are locked around his waist tight enough that she won’t fall, he reaches down for Charlotte, and lifts her up to carry her on his chest.

With his daughters hanging off him like Koalas, and your hand in one of his, he leads you over to the little congregation of towels the gang had set up earlier that day.

Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, and Fanboy all rise to their feet from where they had been lounging, as Jake approaches with his family. Only Coyote remains on his towel, a fact which makes Jake smirk.

“Everyone, these are my girls,” Jake says, angling his body so that Olive is slightly visible, and Charlotte can see from where her head is back in his neck.

There’s a chorus of heys from the group and Jake feels one of Olive’s hands leave his neck, reaching up to wave at the pilots.

“This is my wife, Y/N Seresin, and these two beauties…..Can you say hi, and introduce yourself, sugar?” Jake asks Olive, bouncing a little so that she holds onto his neck again. She giggles lightly and Jake feels her nod against his shoulder.

“I’m Liv,” she says, “it’s very nice to meet you!”

She mispronounces her v’s slightly, but her greeting is so endearing that Jake witnesses all the pilots melt in front of him.

“And what about you, baby?” Jake asks Charlotte, angling his head so that he can see her face. She shakes her head slightly, her eyes so wide and innocent in her face.

“Are you sure, darlin?” Jake asks. His shy daughter just shakes her head, and turns her face, so that her face is hidden completely in her father’s neck.

“Okay….,” Jake murmurs to her, running his hand up and down her back in circles and turns to his group of pilots.

“This little one is Lottie,” he says.

“Coyote,” you say, taking the focus of the group off of your shy daughter as you call your friend, “are you gonna stay over there, or are you actually going to get up and and come say hello?”

“Ya know, I think I’m good where I am,” Coyote laughs from his seat, grinning.

“Uncle Javy!?” Olive asks, wriggling around in excitement.

“Yeah Livie!” Coyote grins, finally getting up from the ground and making his way over.

“Daddy, down please!” Olive chirps and Jake obligingly bends until his daughter can hop off his back.

The minute Olive is on the ground, she takes off running towards Coyote, and he leans down as she gets to him, and lifts her up, swinging her around in the air as her laughter explodes from her. After she's been swung around a few times, Coyote p uts her back in the sand and pulls you into a side hug.

✯✯✯✯

As the family reunites with each other, and some of the pilots go and begin chatting with Jake and his wife, Phoenix sidles up to Rooster and elbows him again.

"You good, Roos?"

The pilot turns his head to look at her, and she bursts out laughing.

"Oh come on, Bradley, is it really that shocking that Jake has a life outside of the navy?"

"Kind of!"

Phoenix goes to elbow her friend again, but he's ready this time, dodging out of the way as she goes for his ribs, the two pilots laughing as they join the rest of the group getting to know their newest members.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!

[contrabandhothead]

awakened from my slumber for top gun: maverick as text posts

- none of the images or text posts belong to me

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. ���Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

Tag List:

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@wintercap89

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@gingerbreadandpaper

[ohtobeleah]

California Fornication //

Three — ‘Start Pretending’

Summary: Bob Floyd finds you and Hangman in a compromising position. There’s a lot more than meets the eye as to why Rooster chose his wife over you. He just hasn’t told you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst. Abusive of power in a relationship. Domestic abuse. SMUT!

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: First upload after my wedding. Had this idea swimming around in my brain all week.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Siren!” 

It was all too much for your brain to comprehend. The man you’d been dating, the man you had begun to see a future with, the man who made you forget about all the boys who came before, was married. Bradley Bradshaw was a married man. 

“Y/n—“ Bradley called after you as you made your way back to your car. Of all the days you could have parked closer, today was the day you decided to park all the way in the back row of the lot. “Would you just stop for five seconds so I can explain!” 

You couldn’t begin to explain the way you felt. Betrayed, heartbroken, angry, used. Nothing really did the trick when trying to find the right adjective that perfectly described the sick bottomless pit your stomach had become as you scurried back to your car with Rooster hot on your tail. “Y/n! Please just let me explain!” Bradley begged as he caught up to you. His boots were heavy on the ground as he gripped at your wrist—turning you back to face him as he pleaded with you. “Please, just listen.” 

“You know when would have been a perfect time to explain your situation, Rooster?” You hissed as you ripped your wrist from his grasp. “At the bar! The night we met!” It was damn near impossible to believe that the fact Bradley was married had never been discussed or even be divulged to you. By anyone. “Right now? I don’t wanna know, because I’m about three seconds away from getting in my car and running you down!” It’s the anger in your voice that frightens Rooster the most before he’s standing there, watching you walk away. 

“We’re getting a divorce!” He shouts after you, jogging to catch up to you as you keep putting one foot in front of the other. “I don’t know what she’s doing here baby, you have to believe me.” It sounds as sincere as he can make it sound. “I never wanted you to find out like this, please—“ You pause in your stride, trying your best to keep the tears that had formed in your lower lash line from streaming down your cheeks. It’s to no avail though—they fall freely before the man who’d stolen your heart. “I swear to you, she’s nothing to me anymore.” Bradley’s voice softens as he steps a little closer all the while you step back. Keeping your distance. “I was going to tell you about it all.” He admitted through tears of his own. “About her. But it still hurts to think about it and when I’m with you Siren?” Bradley paused to soak in the way your eyes mimicked his own heartbreak. “It doesn't hurt.” 

“I need to get home—“ You needed time to process the earth shattering news. “Please just let me go home, Rooster, before I have an aneurysm.” 

“It doesn't hurt when I’m with you!” Bradley needed you to hear him out, so he kept talking as you walked away. He watched you dump your duffel into the backseat of your car as he spoke. “I mean it Siren, I don’t love her, I’m with you now and if I’m being perfectly honest here I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Bradley blocked you from opening your driver's side door. He said not a single word as he pulled you into him for a desperate kiss. Full of passion and love. Your lips melted with his as you tried to will yourself to be strong. But the tears kept falling. 

“I need you to hear me out about this alright?” He whispered as he let your forehead rest against yours. “I promise I had every intention of telling you the truth. I told everyone not to so that I could tell you myself—I just didn’t know how and before I knew it we were official and the longer I waited the more scared I got about losing you.” 

“You really mean it when you say you were getting a divorce?” You asked through wet lashes. Not sure of what to believe. 

“I do.” Bradley confirmed before he was once again pulling you in for a kiss so passion filled it took the breath right out of your lungs. “I don’t settle for women who sleep with my best friend.” 

“She cheated on you?” Your heart broke for the man who was currently blocking your driver's door as his arms draped over your shoulders. 

“Walked in on them in the middle of it too.” You could see the memory playing out across Roosters eyes before he shook the memory from his mind. “I can’t go back to her, not when I’ve got you. So please, stay, hear me out Siren.” You let Bradley’s plea linger in the atmosphere around you before you reached up to kiss him once more for good measure. 

“If you really want me to listen and you really want to lay all this out on the table—I’ll be at the Hard Deck tonight for two for one night at seven o’clock .” You explained. “I’ll book a table on the dining side, and I’ll listen.” 

“I’ll be there.” Bradley smiled against your neck as he drew you in for a hug. “I’ll tell Katie to leave, I’ll tell her it’s over, completely, and I’ll be there.” Bradley Bradshaw had said that his marriage was over with enough conviction in his voice that he actually had you believing it. But as it turned out? You ended up sitting alone in a booth at the Hard Deck for two hours. And when Bradley did eventually show? He came hand in hand with his wife. 

“She looks so heartbroken.” Phoenix whispered to Bob as they watched you stand from the now empty booth they’d seen you sitting alone at for the past two hours. They’d tried their best to sit with you, but you insisted you were fine. 

You’d seen Bradley walk in, and within a millisecond your heart shattered into a million pieces. It was all the explanation you needed, seeing Rooster with his wife. Things were over between you. He’d chosen her. Why? Why her? 

“We should—“

“We should really stay out of whatever mess this is Nix.” Bob sighed as he watched you push past the crowd and exit from the same door Rooster and his estranged wife had just come through. “Something tells me this is gonna get messy and I can’t afford to be picking and choosing sides when I entrust my life to you guys for work.” 

“He’s an idiot—“ Phoenix shook her head as she took a sip of her beer, eyeing off the woman who’d destroyed her own marriage and a friendship that she once thought was unbreakable. “For going back to her.” 

“Love makes you do crazy things—“ Bob replied as he caught Rooster looking around the Hard Deck while Katie spoke with Fanboy. He was looking for you. “Crazy, stupid things.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Oh my god—!” Jake Seresin couldn’t have been buried any deeper inside you if he tried. “Fucking hell you’re so tight.” He moaned into the juncture of your neck as he bucked his hips into you. The two of you had switched positions—you were now the one sitting on the bathroom countertop with your legs wrapped around Jake's waist. “Why’d Bradshaw let you go huh? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever been up in.” It felt so wrong but oh so right at the same time—like you were made for him and only him. 

“Did you say that to Rooster's wife too?” You teased as Jake sucked perfect pressure against your pulse point. The two of you could be compromised by anyone at any moment. The unisex bathroom the pair of you were in was one of two. 

“Oh you’ve got a mean streak don’t you?” Jake smirked as his hand moved from your hip to your throat. Applying a little pressure. “And no, his dirty little mistress is a better fuck.” It sent shivers down your exposed spine. “Wanna get outta here? Come back to mine?” 

“Not until you finish what you started here first.” You could feel it coming, swirling around your core, the build up of pressure so intense it was damn near electric. “I’m so close—“ 

“Oh don’t you worry a pretty little hair on that head of yours, Siren.” Jake snarled as he picked up and pace and pulled your hair back just enough to expose your neck for him to mark up. “I’m gonna get you exactly where you wanna go.” He was so cocky, so sure of himself it was almost infuriating. “Touch yourself for me.” But yet here you were, doing exactly as you were told as Jake fucked deep into you with everything he had. Throbbing inside your velvet walls. “That’s it Siren, look at you.” He teased as you moaned and whimpered for more. “Tell me what you want—“

“I wanna cum!” You cried as Jake chuckled with a devilish smirk that made your core ignite with lust and need. “Please—“ 

“I ain’t stopping you darlin.” Jake kissed your lips harshly to stop the drool that was nearly dripping out of you. “You wanna cum all over my dick then go ahead and do it, I’m sure Rooster won’t mind.” Oh but he would mind, that you both knew. Which is what made this all the more exhilarating. “Or maybe he’ll try to kill me.”

“Oh fuck!!” You were so close, your high was right there. “Jake! Fuck yes I’m gonna cum—“ He was right behind you, fucking into your until he was nearly seeing stars. “Don’t stop!” 

“Ohhh god I’m right with you—“ Through a mix of moans and grunts and a need to get each other off, neither you nor Jake heard the knob of the bathroom door creek open to reveal an unsuspecting Robert Floyd. He stood there dumbfounded and shocked to no end, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as it hit the mirror behind you. Your chest was perky and exposed. Jake's face was buried in your chest and he hooked his arms around the small of your waist and spilled his load inside you. Stilling with a grunt of pure ecstasy as he came with you. “Fuck.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Bob thought he was speechless, but as it turned out he had a thing or two to say. Jake turned his head in the direction of where Bob's voice had come from as he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind himself. “Are you certifiably insane!?” 

“What can I say Floyd.” Jake smirked as he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his jeans. You hopped down on the counter, leaking with Jake's load, searching for your clothes behind him. Completely mortified that Bob had seen you so exposed. “Bradshaw has an exquisite taste in women.”

“I really did feel bad for you, you know.” Bob did his best to ignore Jake's comment as he turned his attention to where you were getting dressed. “We all did, because we should have told you.” He tried to hold his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheeks. But it was coming out regardless. Bob needed to say it. “But you know what Jake did and yet here you are, so don’t come crawling to anybody for sympathy when Rooster finds out about this.” 

“Last time I checked Bob—“ Jake puffed his chest a little as he took a step closer to where Bob stood. “Roosters happily married, so Siren here is free to fuck whoever she damn pleases.” Jake reminded the usually meek WSO. “But if you wanna be the one to tell Bradley about this then by all means, have at it.” Jake paused as the two men came face to face, toe to toe. “But make sure you’re ready to duck the second you taddle, he puts his weight behind those punches, and I don’t think those weak ass glasses would withstand a shot like that.” 

“Jake—“ You broke the tension with a gentle hand to the small of Jake's waist. “Let’s just get out of here yeah?” You reminded him softly as Bob held his stare. Disappointed beyond belief that you would go anywhere near Jake Seresin. “Let’s just go.” 

“Don’t let Penny hear you disrespect a lady like that.” Jake smirked to himself as he fixed his shirt. “She might just make you pay for a round.” Jake reached for your hand as he opened the Bathroom door. “Good to see you again Bob.” It wasn’t long after Jake had the final word that he was pulling you out of the bathroom, past the rest of the Daggers who didn’t know what to think seeing the two of you rush out of the Hard Deck together and out into the carpark. 

“You didn’t have to stand up for me like that, you know.” You broke to silence as Jake opened up the passenger side door of his Ford F150, offering you a hand up that you so graciously accepted. “I can look after myself.” 

“It’s nothing—“ Jake insisted as he leaned in to kiss you, soaking up the fact all eyes were on the pair of you through the window. From Phoenix to Coyote who all knew this was going to end as badly as it did the last time. “Us dirty mistresses gotta stick together.” 

You hardly knew this man yet he was so endearing. The thought of getting to know Jake made you crave his attention all that much more. But you knew what this was—a fling, a rebound, a wrong turn if you will. Because Jake loved Katie and you were still pretty positive that you loved Bradley. 

“To the dirty mistress' clubhouse.” You smiled as Jake beamed at you. “Hope you have a nice bedroom.” 

 ***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“No no no no I don’t think you understand what I’m saying to you Kate.” Bradley hissed as he paced back and forth in his living room. His handles fell to his hips in frustration and he burnt track marks into his carpet. “It’s over, we’re done, I don’t love you enough to want to put the work in!” It was all falling on deaf ears, Bradley’s pleas, his feelings. “I can’t be with someone who broke my heart the way you did.” All Bradley had ever wanted was what his parents had. 

“You want to file for divorce Rooster, that’s fine.” Katie Beadshaw had another name before she met Rooster. Her maiden name was Katherine Ferguson. To those in uniform ‘Ferguson’ carried a title like no other and right now, it was Katie’s only okay to keep her husband in a marriage she ruined. “But just take a look at these first.” Katie pulled a handful of papers from her purse. They held a weight like no other. A power Bradley couldn’t fight. 

“What are these?” Rooster snatched the slightly crumpled papers from his wife’s hand. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw what they were. “You’re kidding right? You can’t be serious! This is insane!!” 

“Signed by daddy dearest himself.” Katie smirked as she stepped closer to Bradley, just so she could walk her fingers up his heaving chest. “I’m sure Siren would be thrilled to be presented with dishonorable discharge papers signed by the chief of Navy himself.” Bradley never thought the woman he married could be so cold, so cruel, so dangerous. “But hey, go ahead and divorce me, because I’d love to watch her world burn down to the ground and take you for every cent you’re worth.” Katie snickered all the while Bradley tore the papers up. “S’okay, they weren’t the real ones honey.” 

“You vicious little bitch.” Bradley spat as he stepped away and ran his hand frustratedly through his sandy locks. “What do you want from me! You slept with my best friend! You broke my fucking heart Kate and now you’re blackmailing the me!? Threatening the girl who actually gives enough of a shit about me? For what huh?” Rooster felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was meant ro be with you at the Hard Deck, explaining everything—how exactly was he supposed to explain this. 

“I want you back.” Katie cooed and all Bradley did was scoff. “You aren’t going to tell her about any of this either.” He followed through. “Because if you do I’ll make sure her career ends before she even knows what it’s like to be loved by you.” 

“I DON'T LOVE YOU!” Bradley shouted, he couldn’t have been more clear if he tried to be before Katie’s open palm made a stinging connection against his cheek. He stood there in shock, never once had Bradley ever hit a woman but fuck this would definitely be the closest he’d gotten. 

“Well you better start pretending!” Katie hissed. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” Within a second of her fit of rage and need for utter control, Katie was smiling, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the same cheek she’d just slapped. 

“Dinner at the Hard Deck baby, my treat.” Not sure what to do, Bradley nodded silently as he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. Realising that he’d just found himself in a webb his wife had spun to keep him, and realising soon after that he’d just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him. 

You. 

Because there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d ever forgive him, or believe him now. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

[diadotcom]

“it’s not the plane, it’s the pilot”

“exactly”

when i come across this scene in fics and the like ive noticed majority if not all people interpret this as mav saying rooster is a bad pilot. but like i never even thought of it that way…!!! although i reckon 100% rooster himself interpreted it as mav not believing him. but for me ever since i first watched the movie i thought mav was saying “exactly. you’re the pilot, you’re in that plane and it’s you who will not come home when it goes down.”

idk i just think he was trying to say “i care about you too much to let you burn in” or something. meh maybe im wrong and just missed the dig LMFAO

[innerzombiegladiator69]

Pilot gays? Mav and Ice? No way..

[24hrfrog]

Commission for @sizzlingcloudalmondspy Hogwarts AU!

And they were rivals,

GASP and they were RIVALS 👀🤭

[topgun-imagines]

Nothing to Lose 

Requested: no

Summary: The real reason behind why Jake Seresin’s flying is so reckless.

Word count: 2.1k 

Warnings: Mentions of car crashes, death, child loss. 

Note: I apologize in advance. 

Parings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Wife!reader

It was amazing how fast rumors could spread at Top Gun. People were constantly gossiping about who did what, who had a drink with who. A common one was who slept with who. That one seemed to be the topic of right now. Many pilots and WSO’s could be found in the Hard Deck discussing this particular topic, eyes darting around the room as they watched people leave. But, as usual, the pilots and WSO’s of Top Gun ran out of rumors to spread. When they were especially bored, they would turn to people’s flying, critiquing their skill and ability until they inevitably gave up on that too. There was still one incredible rumor floating around Top Gun. It had yet to be answered but there seemed to be new theories every day. 

Why was Jake Seresin’s flying so reckless? 

The answer was simple. While no one knew it, everyone speculated. He had a mission go sideways overseas, he was overly cocky, he was flying against the ghost of the man his father wanted him to be; the ideas seemed to get crazier with every passing day. Regardless of how many theories there were, no one would ever get it right. Jake kept that secret closely guarded. No one else knew about it. And if Jake had it his way, no one would ever find out.

He was sitting at the bar, listening to people gossip all around him. The pilot had been called to Top gun a few weeks ago. He practically jumped at the chance to escape his old town. Austin was full of too many bad memories. Jake had never been close to anyone, and coming to Top Gun as the only member of his squadron seemed to prove that to him. 

Just as he was about to pay his tab, a man approached him. “Hangman,” The man started, staring down at the blond with a small smirk. “I’m Coyote. Nice to officially meet you,” Jake bit his tongue before forcing a smile. He had seen the man in class the day before; he seemed like the kind of man that was easy to make friends with. Which was exactly what Jake didn’t need right now. Jake slid his card over to Penny. He couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters. “Me and my friend have a little wager,” The taller man nodded back toward a black-haired woman that was sitting by the dart board. Jake raised a single eyebrow, not really caring where this conversation was going. “She says that you have a girlfriend. I said no way in hell.” The blond pilot sucked in a sharp breath. 

Without responding to the man, Jake plucked his card out of Penny’s hand and turned around. He left the bar, leaving the man standing behind him. “What the hell man?” Coyote called out. With a shake of his head, he made his way back to the table. He wasn’t going to let some blond pilot ruin his night with Natasha.

The truck was silent as Jake drove to his quarters. He had shut off the radio the second he climbed into the beat-up truck. The window was rolled down, fresh air streaming into the truck as he sped down the highway. Honestly, he was shocked at the fact that the man’s statement had affected him as much as it did. Jake spent the rest of the ride with his head in the clouds, mind drifting back to a past that he thought he had left behind. 

He pulled into the driveway of his temporary housing. To him, it was far from a home. The headlight flashed against dark windows, briefly displaying the emptiness inside of the house. Jake killed the engine. He sat in the truck for a few minutes, willing himself to forget everything that had just rushed back to the surface. Everything that he had tried so hard to push down. With a final shaky breath, he hopped out of the car and headed into the house. 

Flicking the lights on, he slipped out of his shoes. The pilot moved through the house slowly, eventually winding up in the bathroom. The reflection that stared back at him was blank, barely showing any hint of emotion whatsoever. He pulled his T-shirt over his head quickly, discarding it into the growing pile of dirty laundry by the door. When his eyes landed on his dog tags his breath hitched. The rings that dangled from it taunted him, mocked him for why they were hanging there. His eyes drifted down to his own ring finger, finding the shiny gold band glinting back at him. 

Jake cleared his throat and finished getting ready. He brushed his teeth quickly, attempting to ignore everything that he was feeling. Memories attached to those rings couldn’t help but rush to the surface. When he was done Jake climbed into bed and let his eyes slip shut, willing his mind to allow him one night of peaceful sleep. But after today’s events, he knew that that was unlikely. 

Jake awoke with a start. For almost a year now his dreams had been plagued with memories from that day. He checked the time. 5am. That was longer than he usually lasted. Even though he hadn’t been there to witness it, the horrid image from the hospital was enough to fill his mind with pictures of what could have happened. With a sigh, the blond hopped out of bed. He flicked on the bedside lamp as he began to get ready for his day. 

First, he made a coffee for himself. It had the perfect amount of creamer. Just how you used to make it. Then he practically chugged the drink, inhaling sharply as pictures of her flooded his mind. He pulled a random T-shirt over his head before slipping on his leggings. A quick run by the beach should do him some good. He didn’t bother locking the house as he exited. It’s not like there was much inside that he valued anyways. 

The air was crisp as he began his run. At this time of the morning the sun was barely above the horizon, only a small sliver of light peaking up over the sea. The house that he had been given was right on the beach. Wind that blew in from the sea helped clear his head. He kept running, mind moving faster than he ever thought was possible. You were the light of his life. Until one faithful day that was all taken from him. Jake ran faster. Maybe if he focused on the pounding of his heart the pain would disappear. 

Before he even realized it he was back in front of his door. The pilot heaved a sigh and headed inside. The house was still dark when he slipped into the shower. After a quick rinse he was pulling on his service khakis and hopping in the truck. The drive to base was around 20 minutes. Jake kept the radio off as he drove. When he finally pulled into the parking lot the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. There was only one other car in the student section. 

Jake walked through the long hallways before stepping into the classroom they were scheduled to be in today. Inside, he found the man and woman from the night before sitting next to each other. They were laughing quietly together, the woman’s hand resting on his arm. The second he walked into the room the pair quieted down. When Jake took his seat near the back of the room the man, Coyote, if he remembered correctly, approached him and slid into the chair next to him. He paid the man no mind, opening his journal and beginning to take down a few notes that he missed from the day before. “Hangman,” Coyote started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Nice to see you again.” The blond pilot simply scoffed quietly. 

This man seemed to love getting on Jake’s nerves. “What do you want?” Jake didn’t bother looking up at him. When the man beside him didn’t respond Jake’s eyes cut up to him. He raised a single eyebrow Jake sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Can I help you with something?” That seemed to snap the man out of his daydream. Jake’s breath caught when he saw that the man’s eyes were trained on his wedding band. 

“About last night,” Jake could have punched his lights out over that sentence alone. Coyote could sense the man’s discomfort. “Look, I’m sorry,” He started. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He watched as the woman at the front of the classroom stood up from her seat. Checking the clock out of the corner of his eye he saw that they had around 30 minutes before class started. Why would she be leaving now? Before she left the room she leaned down next to Coyote and whispered something in his ear. He responded with a soft smile. He turned back to Jake before continuing. “I really didn’t mean to offend you or anything.” 

Jake watched him curiously. “It’s fine,” he dismissed. When the man didn’t move from his spot Jake came to realize something. Coyote wasn’t just apologizing, he was waiting for Jake to answer his question from last night. Instead of answering directly, he responded with one of his own. “How much did you put on this bet?” He could see Coyote’s mouth drop from the corner of his eye. 

He stuttered slightly. Eventually, he cleared his throat and responded. There was a small smirk on his face as he spoke. “A significant sum.” Jake could hear the confidence oozing from his voice. 

Nodding his head, Jake finished what he was writing before shutting his notebook. “You lost,” His voice was sharp and clipped. Coyote opened his mouth as if he was going to apologize when Jake cut him off. “You wanna know the truth?” He honestly didn’t know why he was going to tell this complete stranger one of his deepest secrets but something in his gut told him he could trust him. Coyote couldn’t help but nod softly. “I had a wife, and a child. And one day, just because some truck driver couldn’t keep his hands off his phone for 30 seconds I lost both of them.” Coyote instantly regretted ever asking in the first place. It was apparent to him now more than ever that this was not his place.

“She was on her way to the hospital,” Jake continued. “I was out of town, running a few errands and I was supposed to meet her there,” Jake’s eyes became watery. This was the first time that he had opened up about what happened to you. “She was going to have our baby,” A single tear trailed down his cheek. Jake wiped it away quickly. The man beside him continued to listen in silence. He could tell that Jake needed someone to talk to. “The truck came out of nowhere. It was speeding through the intersection and didn’t stop in time,” The blond's eyes drifted down to his wedding band. “I never got to see her or our baby again.” 

Coyote could tell that Jake was finished with his story. All the teasing that he and Nat had been doing over the past few days suddenly made him want to vomit. He had made a game of a man’s personal life. He had made a game out of a man’s wife and child that had died in a horrible accident. Who does that? “I’m so sorry, man,” His voice was gentle, trying to soothe and not piss off the aviator in front of him. “I didn’t know.” Jake just nodded in response, wiping the remaining tears from his lashes. 

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The pair had agreed to start over, Coyote deciding that maybe Jake wasn’t as bad as he seemed. Eventually Jake opened up more to Coyote, filling him in on personal details that no one else knew about him. 

And now Coyote knew why Jake’s flying was so reckless. It wasn’t because he was cocky, or because he had a mission go sideways. It wasn’t even because he was flying against someone he would never be. Finally, someone had the real answer to the age-old rumour. And it wasn’t nearly close to anything that had been speculated. People would still gossip, but for now only one person knew the truth. The reason that Jake Seresin flew so recklessly, was because he had no reason not to. It was because, for nearly a year now, Jake Seresin had nothing to lose.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. 

[icemankazansky86]

Here, have some IceMav art inspired by Five Feet Apart

Click image for better quality

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 1: Seventeen Going Under

📜I know I should be working on FFA (Forever After All). However, I got bit by this idea of a fire look-out of all things, then had a whole dream about it. Naturally, I had to fic it. Due to story choices and plot later in the series, I have made a fictional National Park. However, it is loosely based on Mount Rainer and Olympic National Park in Washington.

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Anything Can Happen in the Woods, Forced Proximity, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, post-college daggers, Camping/Hiking AU.

Thank you to @desert-fern for helping me with the title!!

#6k Words

Masterlist | Part 2

Camping was the last thing you wanted to do on your week off.

It will be fun, Nat said. It won't be just the two of us going, she said. It's just hiking and a campfire and seeing the sights, she said.

It was not fun. It was not just hiking and a campfire. It was a fucking bad idea.

Why, you might ask?

It was hiking in a state national park, deep in the wilderness, with only a few fire lookouts as the closest thing resembling civilization. It was miles, miles, from your home state. It was going to be fucking cold, and wet, and rainy. It would be muddy slopes, climbing up cliff faces, and watching out for blind roots and sharp rocks haphazardly sticking up from the ground. You knew you wouldn't even get to enjoy the amazing scenery because you'd be too busy making sure you didn't accidentally die by stumbling over said rock or root down a cliff.

No, all that you could have handled, despite your initial protests. That wasn't the issue.

Because 24 hours post leaving your house and arriving in Seattle, she had failed to mention that fucking Jake Seresin had been invited along too.

It wasn't as if she didn't have a chance to. Oh no, there had been many ample opportunities for either her or her boyfriend, Bradley, to let you in on that secret. Like when the two of them picked you up from your apartment in the extremely early hours of the previous morning to start the journey to Seattle. Or the long drive there, or when you checked into the hotel that night.

Nat and Bradley had been shifty about who else had been invited in general too, but you suspected the usual group. Maybe their girlfriends, if the prospect of leaving the city wasn’t too much for them.

Despite your initial protests, you were actually excited to go. Lakespur National Park was a beautiful sight at any time of the year. The mountains were snow-capped and tall, like they were touching the sky. The trees were the brightest shades of green, especially after a bout of rain. The lakes and rivers were deep pools of unreal bright baby blue, and you knew from the website that there were a couple of waterfalls hidden amongst the trails. The cliffs were high enough, too, that if you managed to find a nice lookout, the views could have stretched on for miles. And neighbouring nearby, you could spot Mount Rainer standing non-threateningly as it could in the distance.

You wanted to paint as much of it as you could before the week was over.

You had awoken in your hotel room that morning in a good mood. You appreciated the few hours of sleep you could get before you had to spend a week in the literal woods, surrounded by bugs and animals who probably wanted to eat you, sleeping in a tent with nothing but a bed roll.

That same feeling carried over to now as you opened the truck door, the scent of dirt and fresh pine invading your nose. Grabbing the support handles on either side, you carefully lowered yourself to the ground, sunlight hitting the sides of your face. It felt good to be out here; the warmth, the fresh air, the sounds of nature going on around you in the early morning light.

Nat sighed affectionately, throwing her arms wide as if she was trying to hug the entire forest. "Ah, Nature!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk gave you away. "You said that yesterday morning when you picked me up. It's going to get old, really fast."

She closed her eyes, giggling to herself and starting to spin on the gravel, tilting her head back. You couldn't help but laugh with her as she twirled around, the stones and dirt crunching under her feet.

Nat’s friendship was the only one that had survived College. You’re not entirely sure how you became friends either; it just kind of happened out of the blue one day. She had been in a sorority and ran in the popular crowd, so to speak. You worked in the campus art supplies store selling paint and double-stapled-backed canvas’. And when you weren’t there, you were in the studio, painting or sculpting or doing something creative that usually ended up with you covered in whatever messy medium you had decided to work with.

From those things alone, she had no real reason to want to be your friend.

You suppose you could at least trace it back to that group project the two of had been assigned to do with two other people. Two other people who didn't do jack shit, despite multiple protests from both of you. The two of you had ended up pulling an all-nighter in your apartment off campus, and to your surprise, a girl from a high-ranking sorority had been way kinder than you expected her to be.

You wanted to say the two of you bonded that night, sharing stories and laughing at funny social media posts when you forced yourselves to take breaks. And when the project was done and over with, you didn't expect her to stay around.

But she did. Suddenly, in the aftermath, she was there, texting you about her favourite book series, dragging you out of the studio, and lifting your head off a literal canvas to ensure you had something to eat or drink. She'd sit with you in the library when you had to study art history and bring coffee. And when drama hit at her sorority residence, she moved into your apartment off campus.

That's how you met Bradley. And then his football team. And the biggest asshole to ever live. You regretted a lot of things on that night, and you not standing up to him was at the very top. Written in red. And underlined.

After what he said, after what he did, you never wanted to see his face again.

Once Nat steadied herself against the truck, you turned to catch your gaze on a few familiar figures unloading their gear. You waved hi to Mickey and Ruben as they made their way over to the three of you, gear and supplies thrown over their backs. Mickey was the first to reach you, sweeping you into a hug and ruffling your head over your baseball cap. You're smiling up at him when he pulls back.

"Ready for some adventure, Maeve?" he grins.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe we’ll find some interesting things to get up to. Sightsee, tell ghost stories, see a bear or two.”

“Really, a couple of bears. You think I could take them on?”

You snorted, reaching up to slap the rim of his baseball cap down. “Only you would want to have a fight with one.”

“Come on, you’re not scared, are you?” he said, dramatically holding his hand over his heart before reaching for you. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Suddenly, a new voice pitched up from behind him. "You are joking, right? You know he will be pushing the two of us in front of him and then running for the hills screaming like a little girl."

You giggled at Cora, his girlfriend's, remark as she pushed him out of the way to give you a bear hug. “The only way you’d ever come close to looking good in that scenario is her painting it.”

Mickey frowned. "That hurts my heart, baby. Really. You really think I'd leave you ladies alone to fend for yourselves?"

You and Cora snorted at the same time. "We know you would."

Mickey pouted, and Cora only laughed, resting her cheek on the top of your head as she laughed. But you were too focused on watching Jessica, Ruben's girlfriend, approach the group, and you had to brace yourself. While you hadn't known her long, Jessica's presence often accompanied an undercurrent of tension. Her lips were curled up in what you deemed a practiced, superficial arc, the kind of smile that was more a social formality than a genuine expression of pleasure.

"Hey Jessica," you greeted her with as much warmth as possible.

She offered you a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, and you had to force yourself not to take a step back out of Cora's arms or shutter at those eyes, wanting to tear you apart. She looked harmless, with short brown hair that framed her bubbly cheeks. But inside, you knew and felt the familiar twinge of discomfort that came from interacting with someone who clearly harboured less-than-friendly feelings about you.

Instead, you searched for Nat, who was saying something to Bradley as she lay across the front seat of the truck, leaning across the centre console with the door wide open. You called out to ask her, "Who else are we waiting on?"

There was a long-standing pause before Bradley was the one to shout out, "I don't see Javy's truck yet!"

You were about to open your mouth to reply, the retort on your lips, before someone honked a horn, and you came face to face with Javy’s Blue Chevy, kicking up stones as the massive tires rolled into the parking lot. The metal frame sparkled against the early morning sun, and you had to cover your face with your elbow to shield your eyes from the glare. Ruben called out, clapping his hand against his fist, calling out, “They arrive, finally!”

Mickey reached over and slapped him on the back, letting his hand rest on his shoulder. “Fifty bucks says pretty boy spend forever getting out of the shower?”

You jolted at the nickname. To anyone outside the group, the pretty boy reference could have been referring to Javy. But you had the context. There was only one person they could have been referring to, and like a volcano, you wanted to blow your top.

It was at this very moment you realized Nat and Bradley had purposely lied to you by omission.

“Oh no,” you grumbled out, and Cora instantly stepped back, taking her hands off you as if you were on fire and holding them out in front of her. And the two idiots realized what they had admitted, eyes wide as they took you in.

“Oh, Maeve, we thought…”

“Thought what?” you seethed. "What did you think, exactly?"

Javy cut the engine of his truck and swung open the driver’s door, turning in his seat to see everyone, a huge smile on his face as he took everyone in. That was until he landed on you.

“Maeve…” he called out cautiously, hopping down and holding his hands out in front of him nervously.

Don’t Maeve me! Who is in your truck with you? And don’t tell me it’s just Veronica.”

Javy bit his lip, contemplating what he could possibly say to you that would get you to calm down and just listen. But the longer he took, the more you came to the realization that that asshole was, indeed, riding shotgun in his truck.

And when the front passenger door opened and closed, the second you saw the flash of blonde hair, your vision turned red.

And just let that - every single good feeling, every thought of not needing to worry about him showing his face - quicken into flashing white anger. The whole group seemed to know it too, tensing up as your face started to turn beat red, and your mouth was poised open, ready to give the worst shout of their lives.

"Fuck no, Nat! Absolutely fucking not!” You practically screamed, turning to face her with your hands on your hips. Mickey dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. “Yup, there’s the Midge we all know and love.”

Natasha sighed, mocking your stance as she readied herself for the argument. "Come on, you wouldn't have agreed to come had you known."

"You're damn fucking right, I wouldn't have agreed!" you fumed. "Why on God's earth would you think a whole fucking week with the two of us in close proximity would be such a good idea?!"

Nat went to reply, but the sound of shuffling gravel and a low, resonant thud of weight shifting on the side of Javy’s truck interrupted her, letting all of you know who inserted themselves into the conversation.

"Good to see you still have that mouth on you, Midge."

You slammed your eyes shut in annoyance at the sound of his voice.

Midge.

The not-so-subtle nickname he had bestowed upon you that everyone had suddenly taken to using. They all figured it was in reference to your height, or maybe for short for your weird ass name, as Jake once called it. Out of all of them, including Nat, you were the tiniest of the group. The entire football team towered over you, and while they meant it affectionately, endearingly, in the kindest way possible, Jake had to be the cocky smart ass.

A Midge was also in reference to a fly. A small but fucking annoying fly. He just had to double-whammy you twice.

Bradley came around from the driver's side of the truck, a slight grimace on his face. "Sorry, Maeve, I thought she had told you he was coming.”

Nat might have played a part in not telling you Jake would be here, but she wasn't solely to blame for his presence. No, that was entirely Bradley's fault.

Jake was his best friend, after all.

You marched forward, staring into his face, a finger pointed and pressing deep into his chest. "Why the ever living hell did you invite him!?"

Bradley regarded you for a moment before letting out a sigh. "You know why," he mumbled under his breath only to you, looking down at the breast pocket of his jacket.

Your heart twinged in your chest. You did know why. You helped him pick out that ring. Bradley wanted to propose to Nat on this trip, and it only made sense he'd want his best friend around when it did happen. It quelled your anger for a few seconds.

You could have handled a day. Maybe. A morning or afternoon. A few hours. An hour. Yes, you could have managed to be in the same space as Jake for one single hour. One hour, with doors and indoor plumbing and a driveway where you could park your car for a conveniently easy escape.

Not a whole fucking week. In a forest. With him.

"Please, Maeve," Nat begged from behind you. "This week is important to me. To us. We just want to have a good time with everyone together.”

With your back still facing her, you slammed your eyes shut.

Only if she knew the real truth behind such a statement.

Letting your head rest back on your neck, you opened your eyes to stare up at the sky. You knew you had to do this for Nat. She was one of the few friends you really had, and she had done more for you than you ever thought possible.

You owed her that much.

You turned to face her, taking in her pouting lip before your eyes finally tracked to Jake. He had crossed his arms, still leaning up against the side of Javy's truck. You watched as he wetted his lips in amusement. Your eyes stalked the movement, and for the first time since he arrived, you finally set your eyes on him.

"Oh, come on now, Midge," the asshole grinned at you. "Surely we can get along for a couple of days."

You gritted your teeth, your face scrunching up in disgust.

It had been close to six months since the last time you saw Jake Seresin. He had brought some chaotic tramp who was obsessed with horoscopes and star signs to Nat and Bradley's housewarming party, offering up no conversation except she was a Cancer and that it had to be the explanation and answer to any bizarre behaviour she might possess. You hated that. You hated her, though hate was too strong of a word to use on someone you'd probably never see again.

It made you want to throw up to see how she clung to Jake like he was her personal meal and how he ate it up with no shame.

But Jake didn't look like he did back then. He was more laid back now, in a button-up shirt and a short beard, ray bans hanging from the hem of his shirt. Nothing like the stereotypical playboy college type with rich parents that you knew him to be. Not the man with sharply defined edges and polo shirts as if he was about to descend on his mother’s fancy golf club. Not if he had been handed everything in his life on a silver platter.

Turning your head, you saw Nat's pleading gaze, and when you turned to Bradley, he mouthed a desperate "please." Sighing, you motioned for him to open the tailgate, only to grab your hiking bag from the flatbed and hoist it over your shoulders dramatically.

Adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you huffed out, "Hell better be fucking freezing over if I was ever forced to get along with you."

Collective sighs went up around the group, and you swore you could even see a few sag their shoulders in relief. Yet, that cocky asshole only continued smiling, maybe even wider than before.

"Chin up, sweetheart. There are worse people you could be stuck with out here, in the wilderness."

Your cheeks felt hot. "I'm not your fucking Sweetheart, Asshole."

"Would you like to be?"

Six fucking months and he hadn't changed. Even before that, with how intermittently you saw him. You were too scared to do anything back then about him and his attitude and his fucking mouth.

Now? You’d hit him in a heartbeat now. You were about to, if not for a gentle hand on your arm that prevented you from stepping forward to take a swing at him.

"Come on, Midge, you can stay back with us."

You allowed yourself to be turned, coming face to face with Bob and his girlfriend, Grace. You unclenched your fists almost immediately.

You liked Bob. He was sweet and kind and always had a smile on his face. And Grace had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met her. She looped her arm through yours, securely holding it to her side.

"He's not worth the brain cells," she whispered in your ear. You giggled loudly.

Bradley whistled loudly, making the group gather around, placing him and Nat at the center.

“Thank you all for coming! We all need to check in with the park ranger first,” Bradley started. “But first things first, we need to go over the rules and responsibilities!”

Nat pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolding the edges and holding it out in front of her.

“Bob and Grace, you’re in charge of campfires! That includes the wood, the setting up and putting out! We don’t need to create any forest fires, so you guys are on this one!”

It made sense, you thought. They were probably the most responsible out of the group. Though you were slightly surprised they didn’t put Bob in charge of the map.

"Bradley and I are in charge of food! You carry your own shit during the day, but at the end of the night, it goes in the bag to hang up in a tree."

Collective murmurs of agreement went around the group. Nat continued to sound out names and tasks. It was obvious Mickey and Cora would be deemed the group's first aid leaders, Mickey being a firefighter and Cora being a nurse. Javy and Veronica were assigned to be on the lookout for freshwater, though you suspected Javy would be more cautious of looking for the designated spots than Veronica would be. And Ruben and Jessica, you had to hold in your laugh when her face dropped into an absolute look of displeasure when Nat called out they'd be on trash and trail sweep duty.

“Finally, Midge and Jake.”

You raised your eyebrow at the implication behind the ‘and' and what form of torture she might have in store for you.

"Navigators," she called out, eyeing the two of you cautiously. "The both of you will take turns navigating us to all of our campsites, trading off the compass and the map. One day, it's Maeve, the other Jake."

You wanted to argue, to call out that Jake wouldn't be able to navigate himself, let alone a group of people, through a national park, but you stopped yourself. You knew of the delicate balance you needed to maintain. Nat knew it, too. It's why she approached you with a careful eye

“Don’t kill Jake,” she eyed you sternly before turning to Jake and pointing her finger. “Don’t kill Maeve.”

You sallowed. "I won't if he doesn't start it first."

From the sound of the shift in gravel, you knew Jake had set his eyes on you, and you could feel them burning holes into the side of your skull. You resisted the urge to meet his gaze, to challenge or confront the unspoken thoughts you felt hanging between you. Instead, you focused on Nat, nodding to acknowledge the assignment.

Nat knew better, glaring at the two of you discerningly. She knew the two of you well enough to sense the undercurrents of tension. You had been careful with her, never revealing the true reason behind why you held so much disdain towards Jake. And you had no idea what he might have disclosed to them, but you were sure it was laced with the same damn message as always, shouting it as loud as he could to the first person he saw.

Midge is a bitch. I don't know why you’d waste your time being around her. She is as two-faced as they come, and whatever she's said or done, it's a personal attack on me when I've done nothing wrong.

Nat sighed, her frustration evident. "I mean it. If you two can't get along, at least be civil. Or so help me, I'll feed both of you to the first wild animal I see."

You knew she was joking, but the seriousness in her eyes conveyed the underlying ultimatum.

"Fine," you huffed first. Jake rolled his eyes, huffing out a less than enthusiastic, "Fine."

You could almost hear the single collective thought of the group: 'This should be interesting.'

Although the pair of you agreed with Nat's terms, tension remained between you. Nat gave each of you one final, pointed look before rejoining the others, leaving an awkward silence in her awake.

Jake, with a knowing and equally cocky smirk, couldn't resist throwing in a final quip. "Who knows, maybe at the end of all this, we might share a tent," he called out over his shoulder as he began to walk away, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

Yet, all he did was loudly laugh at your reply when you heatedly shouted back in kind, "Fuck off, Seresin! Unkindly, fuck off!”

---

You reached the first campsite around early mid-afternoon, having navigated these woods thus far with the agility of a deer avoiding a thicket of thorns and stones, always aware and always at least several feet apart from the one thing you were sure would kill you if you weren't careful.

You had stayed at the back of the group with Bob and Grace as much as possible, catching up with them while Jake took the lead, navigating everyone toward what would be your home for the night.

Grace spent the time talking about her job at the museum. She was a curator, which is probably why you got along with her so well. While she was passionate about the history surrounding a piece of art, you loved the actual creation process. That's how she met Bob, who had been hired there as an archaeologist.

Somewhere along the way, you realized you were only catching snippets of the conversation, her latest exhibit she was building with Bob. You felt bad but placed the blame entirely on the asshole with the compass.

It was a miracle the group ended up at the actual campsite. Jake had done everything wrong. From holding the compass incorrectly to naming the wrong trail markers or reading the map as if it were a field guide to an 18-hole golf course at a rich man's club. With each move he made or every word he spouted, saying it was "This way" or "That," you had to bite your tongue. Even if you tasted blood, you weren't going to start something he couldn't finish.

It didn't stop the glares, though, or the dirty looks. Or the fact your brain couldn't stop trying to figure out what point he was trying to prove by dressing like that?! If you hadn't spent as long as you had hating him, you'd even go as far as to say he looked good.

Fuck Maeve, you are not going there!

Your home for the rest of the afternoon and night was a sparse little clearing framed by several big trees, the branches high enough that it seemed like they were protecting the space below. Everyone had instantly split up, searching for a spot where they might set up camp. You found one easily enough, not too far from everyone else but enough to make the space your own.

Setting up your tent, you watched with a smirk from a distance as Jake wrestled with his tent, the poles flying in all directions in some comedic fashion. You contemplated whether or not to go over and help him, though it almost seemed sweeter to watch him struggle.

The further away he was, the better.

You had strategically chosen a quiet corner, just close enough between Bob and Grace and Cora and Mickey. You wouldn’t dare go anywhere near Nat and Bradley’s tent unless you didn’t want to get a decent night’s sleep. You were already scarred from College. You didn’t need another instance topping that one.

Grace and Bob had already taken the liberty of making the fire for tonight, rearranging the designated stone pit in the middle of the site into the correct shape and loading it with firewood. Everyone was already sitting around it, off in their own stories and conversations before dinner. You’d initially been drawn into the conversation with Nat and Grace sitting next to you, but it had taken a different turn, and your initial laughter had sounded more forced than you’d care to admit.

And you were too busy watching Jake on the other side of the fire, waiting for the moment he’d strike. But the afternoon lagged on, and he never did. Not until he finally caught your eye, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one you know he knew got under your skin - that your ability to tolerate his presence cracked hard.

You stood abruptly, not allowing him the chance to wind you up like some toy.

"I'm going to go for a swim," you said pointedly to Nat and Grace, ignoring the asshat sitting in the corner. "I shouldn't be long."

They only nodded at you, continuing back to their conversation. Bob was the only one who seemed to address your remark.

"Be safe!" He called out after you. "The park ranger said to be on the lookout for bears!"

You mocked-saluted him with two fingers. "Scouts honour!"

You didn’t hear the hushed whispers or giggles you left in your wake from Jessica or Veronica, nor did you see how Jake’s eyes narrowed, watching you depart from the group.

The lake wasn't far off from the campsite, maybe about a five-minute walk. The promise of cool water and some peace and quiet to sort out your thoughts was enough to entice you away from the group and lift your spirits. You didn't know how many opportunities you would be able to find on the rest of the trip to escape like this, so you knew you needed to take them when you could.

In addition to the warning you got about the bears in the area, the other wildlife you might encounter, and even the strict warning the group received about this being peak wildfire season, the Park Ranger also mentioned this particular campsite would be the only one with decent cell service. If you wanted to call anyone before you ventured further into the park, you had better do it now.

You called your aunt as you walked. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Did you step on a snake, or did you get mauled by a bear?”

“Hello to you too, Aunt Viv.”

Your Aunt Viv was considered the crazy one out of your family. Not because of her mannerisms or personality or the fact she probably was borderline close to adding “Friendly Wine Aunt” to her title, she was the only one to have broken off from tradition. She was, perhaps, one of your favourite people in the world for that reason alone.

“Well, when you told me you’d be spending a week out in some fucking forest, I assumed you wouldn’t have cell reception.”

You rolled your eyes, haphazardly avoiding a sharp rock sticking out from the ground, when you finally realized it was in your path.

“At this point, I wish it was one of the above. That way, I’d have an easy and reasonable way out,” you pouted.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end until you heard the thump of a bucket drop to the ground somewhere. “You were so excited to paint those landscapes. What happened? Is he there?”

You huffed. She knew you better than your own parents and your own brother.

“That obvious?”

She sighed through the phone, and you could picture her shaking her head. “Honey, nothing ruins your excitement more than that fucking waste of a man.”

You giggled at her remark. “I regret ever showing you his photo.”

“A woman my age can fantasize all she likes, even if he is a downright bastard.”

“And did say mention of said bastard just make you drop a bucket of apples?”

It was harvest season for her, all the way back in California. Aunt Viv’s apples were probably some of the best you could ever get on this side of the West Coast. Growing up, you always loved to run through the lanes of Galas and Smiths, climbing the trees for the best and brightest apples to eat.

“Don’t you worry, my dear. You know the worms aren’t that fast.”

You shook your head affectionately, finally lifting your eyes off the trail to take in the water. There was a part of you that regretted not bringing your sketchbook down with you, but you knew you could never do it justice. The blue of the water would never have matched the correct shade, and you wouldn't have been able to get the curve of the shoreline the right way or shadow the rivets of water at the right depth.

Sitting on a nearby rock, you dropped your head between your shoulders, letting it hang low.

“I don’t know what to do, Aunt Viv,” you sighed into the phone, pressing your hand to your forehead. There was another pause.

“Maybe you could talk to him about what happened?” she offered hesitantly.

“No, absolutely not,” you rushed out in a single breath. "I barely knew him for a single night before he started running his mouth about me. Why should I give him a chance when he never gave me one in the first place? Besides, he doesn't even know I know what he said."

You were met with more silence on the other end before she affectionately admonished, “Maeve, you don’t have to be scared of him. He’s just a man.”

Her words echoed in your mind, a gentle reproach that chafed against your pride. You weren't scared of Jake. Not really. Not of him, exactly, but of facing those feelings his words had stirred in you - feelings of inadequacy, of not being enough.

It held your breath hostage in a vice grip, tight.

“It’s one week,” you said, the words a half-hearted attempt to convenience yourself of the idea more than her. “It’s just one week where I can find ways to stay out of his way and not be a bother, and then I can leave and come help you out and drink all the dirty apple cinder I want.”

“You can have all the dirty apple cinder you want when you get here, but Maeve, don’t you shrink yourself down for a man who wouldn’t know a diamond if he held it in his hand, okay?”

Your grip on the phone tightened, her words stirring the embers of your resolve. “I’ll just keep to myself and the painting. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

“And your friend, right? Nat?”

You were. But even then, there was a small part of you that was deeply unsure of the why.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Bradley, too.”

She gently reminded you to have fun and to be safe before she had to go. The second you hung up your phone, you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

Pushing your towel off your shoulder and placing it on the rock beside you, you reached for the hem of your shirt, peeling it away from your body before doing the same with your leggings. You let your fallen pieces of clothing pile on the ground, and you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath as you breathed in the clear air, finally allowing yourself to relax.

“Boyfriend trouble, Midge?”

Almost.

Gritting your teeth, you made to cover your body, your arms wrapping themselves tightly around your torso, your nails digging hard into your skin.

"Why the hell would you want to know, of all people?" you snapped at him, turning slowly on your heel. Standing before you, it took you a second to remember just how massive Jake was.

It had been a while since you’d been this close to him. His height and build, attributes that in another context might be admired, now served to remind you of the vulnerability you felt around him. You, with your smaller, short frame staring up at his face, were only reminded of that fact. The broadness of his shoulders, stretching the fabric of his button-up in a way that spoke of strength, with the way he always seemed to carry himself, made him see larger as if he was occupying more space than what was physically possible.

You stood there, trying to hold your ground, but the disparity in your sizes made you feel exposed, almost childlike. He's just a man, your aunt had reminded you.

Yeah, he is a man.

A man you hated with a burning passion. That was clear as day.

"Why are you here, Seresin?" you asked pointedly, ignoring the absence of a reply. He eyed you back. "Same as you. Bradley's going to purpose and wanted his best friend here."

You rolled your eyes. "No, what are doing fucking following me?"

"Fishing," Jake shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, spreading his arms out to prove a point, the rod and fishing line bouncing in his hand.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Fishing? Really? Then please, be my guest. Poaching is a great way to get yourself kicked out of the park.”

Jake scowled at you. “You ever hear of catch and release, Midge?” he scoffed.

The laugh you let out was heartless. “Clearly, you know the concept all too well.”

You were dead set on escaping him, turning on your heel and marching towards the water without another word. Jake clearly thought the opposite, reaching forward to grasp at your elbow, pulling you back.

"Midge, stop! It's so like you to run off and ignore all your problems!"

Your turn towards Jake was sharp, a swift pivot that tore your arm from his grasp. Your eyes blazed with raw, unfiltered fury and resentment.

How dare he touch you!

"My problems!? What fucking problems would those be? I'm not the one purposely playing show and tell with my ego!"

Jake's face hardened. "My ego? You're the one making a scene every five minutes. You're the one that needs to calm down."

You glared at him, unwrapping your arms from around your chest to hang them at your sides, balling your hands into fists.

If he wanted calm, you'd show him the exact opposite.

"I'm not the one offering up cheap shots with every other breath. If you throw it at me, I'm going to throw that shit right back!"

Jake's eyes dropped to your exposed skin and the black bikini you had quickly changed into when you set up your tent. You saw it happen, and with each pass over your body, it felt like scrutiny, as if he was picking apart your every flaw, every scar, every wrinkle or flabby piece of skin. It was more ammo for more cheap shots later, no doubt.

Oh, so it's my fault then?" he sneered. "You're the one always ready to jump down my throat at the slightest provocation. Maybe if you weren't so defensive all the time, we could actually have a civil conversation and not ruin the fucking weekend for everybody."

You went to cover your body once again. "What do you fucking suggest then? Considering you cannot stand to call me out on something every two seconds?"

"Me?" he scoffed. "You're the one that seems to shutter in complete disgust every time I'm within breathing distance of you."

The retort was there, right on the tip of your tongue, ready to be unleashed on the world. That he said the same about you first, behind your back, no unless. It hung on your bated breath, waiting for the first word to be spoken, but something tethered you remain silent.

You couldn't admit that you knew, not know. You couldn't confront him about it either. He had proven here, and many times before, that the fault solely rested within you. And if you confronted it, that meant dredging up all the pain you meticulously buried under your disdain.

Admitting the real reason behind your spite, acknowledging the hurt he had caused, felt like giving him power over you, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You were going to back out before you said something you might regret.

"Okay, how about this? " You stated, holding your hands up in front of you, equal width apart. "This is you, and this is me. And this," you exaggerated, moving one of your hands into the center of the imaginary space you created, "is the boundary. We do not cross the boundary. We do not talk unless necessary, and we don't get into each other's way but to pass off the fucking compass to one another."

Jake scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe that is going to work?"

You dropped your hands to your hips. "Well, Mr. Smart Ass, have any other ideas that don't involve ruining Nat and Bradley's week?"

"I'm not that fucking heartless, Midge!" Jake retorted, his voice rising. "I'm not going to ruin it for them, but I won't tiptoe around you either. Whatever your problem is with me, it's yours to figure out on your own. Until then, put your selfish feelings and attitude aside and let them be happy!"

Something hit you square in the chest with his words. Your eyes began to sting, the sensation warning you of the impending overflow of unforgivable tears, and you tried to covertly blink them away. Everything was converging into a single, painful point in your chest, your mind now racing past every insecurity, every moment that had been magnified by Jake's previous words the night you met him - now being echoed yet again.

It was a raw exposure you hadn't anticipated, nor one you were prepared for.

"I'm not being selfish." You tried to hide the hurt from your voice. "But I guess that's a little too much to ask from someone like you."

Jake clenched his jaw. "Fine," he shouted, throwing up his hands. "You stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

You stomped off with a shaky breath towards the shoreline, trying to ignore the tremor in your hands or how your stomach was flipping inside out, falsely warning you of some unknown danger or threat. Jake stormed off at the same time as you, stones crunching under his boots, and you had to force yourself from turning back to watch him leave.

Instead, you stepped into the water, the cool temperature shocking your system, but you pushed on, stepping forward until your waist was level with the lake.

Wading deeper into the water, you try to cast him from your mind. The lake water enveloped you, the cold water soothing on your skin and joints. You tried to pay no mind to Jake as you heard him cast his line off down the shoreline, letting your hands glide along the water's surface instead. You watched how the ripples cascaded out, surrounding your hand, and you found the motion soothing.

You suddenly sprung forward, diving under before you kicked yourself up into a dead man’s float, trying to push every single intrusive thought from your mind. Slowly treading the water with your hands, you let the silence flood your ears.

It wasn't an impossible task. You could do this: ignore him for the entire week and get away without interacting with him unless absolutely necessary. You could stay back with Bob and Grace or Cora and Mickey while he did whatever with the rest of them. You would let Nat have her moment to celebrate with her friends when Bradley did decide to pop the question, and you would smile and hug and toast to whatever came of it.

In some ways, you already had been. Because if staying at the back of the pack, away from Jake and out of everyone's hair, was the one thing you could do to make this experience the happiest for her, for them, you would do it.

So it was at that moment you decided Jake fucking Seresin was not going to have any opportunities to drive that fucking wedge any deeper than it already was.

But if a bear did decide to show up, you knew just exactly who you were tripping first.

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-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 2: Abracadabra - Coming soon!

[fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur]

[Maverick has been abducted]

Kidnapper: If Admiral Kazansky wants to see you alive again, he would be wise to pay.

Maverick: *groans* I don't know. He has been seeing me alive for free for a long time.

[jjsobsessions]

Maverick and rooster 🥹

[harrowfuckley]

Top Gun & Top Gun: Maverick lockscreens!

part 2?

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Rules

Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

Part 1: There Are Rules

Part 2: There Are Exceptions

Part 3: There Are Consequences

Part 4: There Are Circumstances

Part 5: There Are Limits

Part 6