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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

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Friends Don’t

Based off the song ‘Friends Don’t’ by Maddie and Tae

Jake (Hangman) Seresin x reader (callsign Valkyrie)

Warnings: little angst, mostly fluff (I don’t think there’s any cussing but just in case I’m putting a warning for it.)

They don’t cancel other plans

Have conversations with nothin’ but their eyes

They don’t hear each others’

Names and forget to concentrate

Hits a nerve and lights your up like dynamite

You and Jake Seresin have been friends since you’d both started in the naval academy. And over the years you’ve become best friends which is what you tell yourself as you look across the bar at Jake who’s silently asking you to save him from some girl flirting with him with his eyes. Any other day and he’d be perfectly happy with flirting with the random girl on front of him but today you almost lost Phoenix and Bob and it’s been rough on everyone. As you’re about to go over to him to save him Rooster calls out to you, “Hey Val, goin to save ur boyfriend” winking at you, face turning bright pink, he turns around and leaves. Rooster is the only person other than Phoenix that you told about your long time feelings for your best friend and even then it was by accident. You were drunk and Penny insisted that he drive you home because she wouldn’t be able to. On the drive you burst into tears causing him to become extremely worried, until you started ranting to him about your more than friendly love for your best friend. You told Bradley everything that night. You told him how Jake would cancel plans if it meant you needed him, how you spoke to each other with your eyes, and how you forget to think when his name comes up. And when Bradley parked in front of your house he held you and said that it was all going to be okay. So as you walk away from him to save Jake, you thought of he could be doing something as mundane as taking out the trash for you and it would still make your heart flutter. Every. Single. Time. once you’ve finally made it over to him you hike your thumb behind you and say that Maverick needed to talk to him about something. As you’re walking away from the girl he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’ and the night goes on.

Friends don’t call you in the

Middle of the night

Couldn’t even tell you why,

They just felt like sayin’ “hi”

Jake would often call you on nights that he couldn’t sleep and he knew you’d pick up. You’d talk about anything and everything, and as you fall asleep on call with him you try to tell yourself that this is just what friends do. That all friends call and fall asleep on the phone with each other. “Its normal” you whisper to yourself as you hangup the phone the next morning.

Friends don’t stand around

Playin’ with their keys

Findin’ reasons not to leave,

Tryna hide the chemistry.

Drive a little too slow

Take the long way home

Get a little too close.

We do but, but friends don’t.

There was one night about a year ago before Hangman left for a rough mission. He stood by your front door fiddling with his keys trying to find reason after reason to stay with you even after you’d just spent ALL day watching movies on the couch together. He tried to tell you that it was too late for hime to drive, which you responded with the fact that if he stayed he would just have to wake up earlier because you lived much farther from the base than he did. He convinced you that you should stay with him so that he didn’t have to take an Uber. So the next morning you drove him to the base to drop him off, he drifted into sleep and rested his head on your shoulder. He grabbed your hand from your steering wheel and rested it in his own. He woke you up a little earlier then should have so you decided to drive the backroads to the base. And again you sit there telling yourself while stopped at a red light that your best friend cuddling into you while you drive him to base is completely normal for a couple of friends to do.

They don’t almost say “I love you”

When they’re downtown somewhere, just a little drunk

They don’t talk about the future and put each other in it

And get chills with every accidental touch.

After the big mission when you almost lost Maverick and Rooster. Everyone went to the Hard Deck to celebrate not losing them and completing the mission. You left early, exhausted from the day you’ve had.

You were cuddled into bed and almost asleep when you heard a soft knock on your front door. You check the time as you get out of bed. 11:55pm. You sigh knowing that there’s only one person who’d bother you at this time of night. You drag yourself to the door, opening it you see the man you thought but he’s nearly blackout drunk hanging over Coyote and Fanboys’ shoulders. You were about to question them when Coyote noticed your confusion and started speaking. “We were putting him in the truck to take him home when he started blubbering about not wanting to be alone and he told us to take him here, we had to ask around for your address but we finally got it out of Rooster. We’re sorry if this is weird…” You said it was fine and led them to your spare room that had some of Jakes clothes on the floor already. You could see their faces as they tried not to make it obvious that they were being nosey. They looked like they wanted to question you about you friendship with their friend. They decided against it and set him down on the bed. They left not long after making sure he looked comfortable on the bed. When they left you went back to the guest bedroom where Jake was, you moved to remove his shoes for him. Guessing that it would be more comfy for him. As you’re pulling the laces on his shoes he starts mumbling to himself, “mm, val?”

“Yep its me Bagman.”

“S’ not my name. How’d I get here?” He slurred his words when he spoke to you, eyes still closed. “Coyote and Fanboy brought you here from the bar, Jake” putting emphasis on his name so that he heard you. “Oh, ok. You wanna know something?” You simply hummed in response. “I think about you a lot more than a friend should, like ALL the time. And I think about our future and no one else is there except you and me…” he drifts off smiling to himself. Once you’ve gotten both his shoes off he makes grabby hands at you like a child. You move to give him the hug you know he wants, but he pulls you down and moves to lay on top of you. “Jake, I have to go to bed.” You gasp as you tap him to get him off you. “Sleep here, like old days.” He slurs into your hair, petting it and pulling you closer. “Your not gonna let me go are you?” He makes a noise that sounds like ‘no’. So you stay how you are and get comfy so you can sleep.

Friends don’t call you in the middle of the night

Couldn’t even tell you why, they just felt like saying “hi”

Friends don’t stand around playing with their keys

Findin’ reasons not to leave tryna hide the chemistry

Drive a little too slow, take the long way home

Get a little too close. We do but, but friends don’t.

The next morning you wake up before Jake, you got out of bed to grab some water and Ibuprofen for his headache that he’ll be bound to have when he wakes up. You set them down on the bedside table and go to take a shower.

When you get out you go downstairs to make some breakfast, you see Jake standing at the kitchen island holding his head in his hands. When he hears movement on the stair he looks up. He notices its you and he smiles. “Mornin darlin’” his texan accent coming out more than usual in his morning voice causing you stomach to flip more than usual. “Morning Jake.” You move through the kitchen getting everything together for breakfast. At some point Jake started moving around the small space to help you. He turns on some music so you both can get a rythym going.

By the time its mid afternoon he says he should probably get going but the longing look on his face is begging on hands and knees for you to let him stay but because it isn’t something friends should do you agree with him and walk him to the door. He gives you a soft disappointed look turns around and leaves.

I keep telling myself it might be nothing

But one look in your eyes and, God, there’s something

You can lie to me and say you don’t

But I know you do, and I love you too

It’s been three days since you saw Hangman last. You’ve seen some of the others because they’ve come by but you haven’t left your house since the night Hangman blacked out drunk on top of you. You two have done stuff like that before but somehow this was different. You saw the desperation in his eyes and saw the same in yours and yet you still sent him out the door.

But tonight you were finally leaving your house to go to the Hard Deck. It was some of the aviators last night so Rooster and Phoenix Gathered you up and put you together for the night so you’d be there to see your teammates altogether for the last time.

When you three got to the bar it was packed full. You guys moseyed your way to the back where the pool table and darts were. Speaking of darts, you looked over and saw exactly who you’d thought you’d see there, Hangman, playing darts and making perfect shot after perfect shot, even with Coyote holding a hand in front of his eyes. He only missed once because Bob called you over to play 2 v. 2 with him against Phoenix and Rooster. You knew it an impossible matchup that you wouldn’t win but it wasn’t to win it was to have some fun.

After about four games of pool two shots, and enough time to be able to drive everyone was tuckered out and chose to go to each respective home for the night. You all hugged each other goodbye and to your separate cars to leave. Your hand Reached out for the handle of your car when someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around you the familiar blonde hair of the man you grown to fall in love with. “Hey, Jake how’s it going, have a good night.” You asked him the simple questions but he let out a bitter laugh at your words. “Am I okay. I haven’t seen you in three days. And part of that is my fault for not reaching out. And I know that after that night it was weird because I probably said something. But right now I’m about to say something that we’ve both been feeling but haven’t said. I love you.” He sighed and took in all the air he possibly could. “I have been in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you but at the time I was young and naive and just wanted to sleep with as many women possible but I never involved you in that. And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I held onto you this long but I know now. I’ve held onto you because I love you, because I was subconsciously waiting for the right time to tell you this and ever since that mission last year when you drove me to the airport I’ve known. if you don’t feel the same way that’s fine but ill have to leave cause I can’t stand being just friends anymore, but if you do feel the same then be mine, be mine forever and go everywhere the navy puts me so that I never have to leave you again for so long.” He panted after his speech, and continued, whilst moving to wipe the tears that you didn’t know were coming down your face. “Be mine so that I can love you unapologetically.” Without warning he leans in and presses his lips on yours moving seemingly in-sync. You pull away first, chest heaving before breathing out, “I love you too.” Giggling to yourself when he picks you up off the ground and twirls you.

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night

Couldn't even tell you why

They just felt like saying hi

Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys

Finding reasons not to leave

Trying to hide their chemistry

Drive a little too slow (slow), take the long way home (home)

Get a little too close (close)

We do, but friends don't

Oh oh oh

Friends don't

#top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun angst #top gun fluff #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

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Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

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[Also, yes, I got this quote from tiktok] {Your POV} I was in the kitchen making lunch for Loki and Thor's son, Magni. Magni was staying with us for the week while Thor and Jane were on vacation for their anniversary. Loki was playing with Magni in the living room, Loki had a multitude of Magni's toys around him (because what else are you supposed to do with a hyper-active 3-year-old, who doesn't get tired). When I finished, I went to tell the boys that lunch was ready. As I was about to round the corner i heard Magni ask Loki a question that piqued my interest. "Uncle Loki, what's a soulmate?" Magni looked up at Loki with questioning eyes, as Loki peered down at the toddler. Loki looked up at the ceiling before sighing heavily and looking back down at Magni. "It's uhh- well it's like a best friend but more. It's the one person in the world that who knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you a better person- actually they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself, because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone you carry with you forever. It's the one person who loved and accepted you- and believed in you when no one else did- or when no one else would. And no matter what happens you'll always love them; nothing could ever change that." As he spoke my eyes filled with tears and as he ended the tears spilled over falling down my cheeks. And although I tried to stop them; more tears came out when they continued their conversation. "Uncle Loki have you met your soulmate? *GASP* Is your soulmate auntie Y/n??" There was so much curiosity in his small voice, it caused Loki to chuckle. "Well Magni sometimes it's impossible to tell if someone's your soulmate or not until too late...but if I’m being honest with you, yes, I think she is my soul mate." Loki had the biggest smile on his face, and as I rounded the corner a little to show that i was there Magni immediately ran up to me hugging my legs. While do this he asked, "Auntie Y/n, why are you crying?" Loki came over hugging me as, squishing Magni in the process. "Yes, my love, why are you crying?" He had a smile on his face while asking me the question which told me that it was rhetorical. I wiped my tears and told Magni to clean up for lunch. When he left, I turned back to Loki, "Did you really mean all that?" His reply was quicker than I thought it would be, but it came out slow. "Every. Word."

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki x you #marvel fluff #marvel imagine

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

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ALL RIGHTY welcome to my blog if you’re here then you probably saw this post and my username and said to urself “maybe I should see what this is about”

WELL, this blog is as my username says, I have too many fandoms and sometimes I write stuff for them. I will also reblog the fics that I read and enjoy so that you can read and enjoy them too. I may do requests but that’s a biiiiig ‘if’. I will now list the fandoms that I have and it will probably be added to.

~updated June 17th 2023~

Movies ⬇️

Descendants

- [ ] Harry Hook

The devil all the time

- [ ] Arvin Russell

Marvel

- [ ] Billy and tommy maximoff (STRICTLY PLATONIC/paternal)

- [ ] Bucky Barnes

- [ ] Captain Marvel

- [ ] Erik Killmonger

- [ ] Ikaris

- [ ] Loki

- [ ] Natasha Romanov

- [ ] (Mcu) Peter Parker

- [ ] (Tasm) Peter Parker

- [ ] (Tfatws) Sharon Carter

- [ ] Steve Rogers

- [ ] Yelena Belova

The Maze Runner

- [ ] Thomas

- [ ] Newt

- [ ] Minho

Top Gun: Maverick

-[ ] Bradley (Rooster) Bradshaw

-[ ] Jake (Hangman) Seresin

-[ ] Bob (maybe)

Uncharted

- [ ] Nathan Drake

TV Shows ⬇️

Arcane

- [ ] Silco

- [ ] Vi

- [ ] Jinx

- [ ] Viktor

The Bodyguard

- [ ] David Budd

Boku no hero academia

- [ ] Izuku Midoriya

- [ ] Denki Kaminari

- [ ] Hawks

- [ ] Bakugou Katsuki

- [ ] Eijirou Kirishima

Criminal Minds

- [ ] Spencer Reid

Game Of Thrones

- [ ] Robb Stark

- [ ] Jon Snow

Haikyuu

- [ ] Daichi

- [ ] Sugawara (sometimes)

- [ ] Ushijima

- [ ] Oikawa

- [ ] Tsukkishima

- [ ] Kita

- [ ] Bokuto

- [ ] Iwaizumi

- [ ] Yamaguchi

Stranger Things

- [ ] Eddie Munson

- [ ] Steve Harrington

- [ ] Billy Hargrove (just less racist)

- [ ] Robin Buckley

- [ ] Chrissy Cunningham

- [ ] Dimitri Antonov

Teen wolf

- [ ] Stiles Stilinski

- [ ] Isaac Lahey

- [ ] Allison Argent

Wednesday

- [ ] Derek Hale

- [ ] Theo Raeken

- [ ] Tyler Galpin

- [ ] Wednesday Addams

- [ ] Xavier Thorne (possibly)

Actors/actresses ⬇️

- [ ] Richard Madden

- [ ] Sebastian Stan

- [ ] Tom holland

- [ ] Chris evans

- [ ] Henry Cavill

- [ ] Sam holland

- [ ] Matthew Gray Gubler

- [ ] Dylan O’Brien

- [ ] Florence Pugh

- [ ] Cody Christian

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

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hihihi love! i’d like to request some angst please! so hear me out it starts out a newt x reader but then after Death Cure it turns into a Thomas x reader. just two grieving people learning to love again and feeling guilty! please! love your fics <3 thanks

angst, anon? you want angst? trust me, i have angst

masterlist

You are happy for once, purely happy; no exhaustion, no stress, just bliss. The sun is setting over the Glade for the night, and around you, the laughter and voices of your fellow Gladers echo in time to the calling of the birds.

Tonight, however, you aren’t with the rest of the boys, only one in particular. You and your boyfriend, Newt, have separated yourselves from the others, electing instead to lie side by side in the downy grass and watch the sun set overhead. You see this every night, yet somehow with him, it’s infinitely more special.

Newt glances over at you, as if he can tell that his name is making the rounds through your head once again. “What are you thinking about, love? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

You lift a shoulder, treasuring the press of the grass against your skin. “Nothing much. I’m just glad I have you, you know? Never thought I’d get this lucky in a place like this.”

Newt chuckles. “What do you mean, ‘in a place like this?’ I thought we all adored the Glade in all its stinkin’ glory.”

You roll your eyes, and he laughs. “Alright, I’m kidding. I’m grateful to have you too, by the way. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way I do.” He says, voice trailing off at the end.

You prop yourself up on one arm so you can look down at him. “How do I make you feel, then? Like a blushing schoolboy, as Minho says?”

Newt laughs, throwing one arm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to confront that particular memory. Minho had been teasing the two of you mercilessly when he found out you were together, something about how it made no sense that the two most selfless kids in the whole shuck Maze could have found each other so quickly but he’s sure glad you did.

“More than that. I’m the entire school, darling.”

You laugh as well. “That’s a bold claim. I don’t know how to put my own feelings into words half as good as those.”

Newt grins, you can just see it under the shadow of the crook of his arm. “You don’t have to say a thing, I know exactly how you feel. I’ve known about it since day one. You emerged from the Box and I instantly guessed that you had a crush on me.”

You swat him in the chest, although the blow is light, as is your temper. “That’s absurd. I didn’t even know I liked you when I came out of the Box. The only thing going through my head was confusion over the fact that every boy except one had an American accent.”

Newt removes the arm from over his head so he can knock your own elbow out from under you, sending you falling back into the grass. “Rude. If anything, my accent just made me more noticeable. I’d say it worked, too, because now you’re skipping off from the rest of our friends to come spend time with me.”

He pulls you onto his chest, and you look down on him happily. “I suppose you could say that. Maybe I just like you better than the rest. No explanation needed.”

Newt’s smile is brilliant, you decide. You could look at it forever, and you do your best, even after the sun fully sets from the sky and the colors turn into the deep jet of night. You lost yourself in his expressions as if you could fall fully into him and forget all other worlds, like he was your only guiding hope in the midst of the mystery surrounding every other aspect of your life.

All that time, and it still wasn’t enough. When you blink, you’re not in the Glade anymore, not treasuring that warm sunset but a colder, darker night. Newt is still lying before you, but he’s different, his posture as still as death. If you close your eyes, you don’t have to see the knife embedded in his chest, but in not looking, you give up your last glimpses of him.

You are a long way from the Glade now, but at this moment, you wish you could go back more than anything. Look where leaving got you- your boyfriend, infected, then dead before you. You’ve lost so many friends, and maybe you even lost yourself along the barren wastes of the Scorch.

You open your eyes again, staring deeply at Newt’s peaceful face, but he doesn’t move, not even to smile at you like he always did. It feels strange to refer to him in the past tense now, even though it’s been right for a while. You were a firsthand witness to Newt’s case of the Flare, and it almost killed you even though you were immune.

It hurt, having to see your beautiful golden boy rust and diminish into bitter, jaded steel. He was still so strong, but his mind wasn’t, and that made all the difference. You watched veins crawl over his arms and face, thick as spiders’ legs and twice as dark. He tried to kill you, the love of his life, then Thomas, his best friend. Thomas intervened to save you, and the consequences nearly killed him as well. Now he’s a murderer, and it isn’t even his fault.

There are hands on your clothes, trying to drag you away. You fight them at first, but your strength gives out at last and you hang, limp, your feet all but dragging on the ground. Somewhere around you, bombs have started to go off, which kicks your mind into some sort of autopilot so you can at least get out of the city despite the fact that your heart is lying dead and gone on the ground behind you.

It isn’t fair that Newt should die. How many times has your blond second-in-command sacrificed his wants, his needs, so that the rest of you could make it through? He was the only good thing about the Maze, the only person who cared enough to see you through each day, and now he’s gone. Where does that leave you, except in a permanent state of nothingness?

You manage to get on a Berg with the rest of your friends, headed towards a Safe Haven that will be free of Cranks for the rest of your life. You spend the entirety of the flight sitting against a wall of the transport, sightless eyes searching in front of you for some sign that it’s going to be alright. You never find it.

It is selfish of you to sit in your hut and cry when everyone is out there trying to create a functional society. The only problem is that you cannot convince your legs to get up and take you away, because then you start looking for someone you’ll never find. Minho and Gally and the rest already gave you the okay to stay in your house until you get better. Despite your lethargy, you didn’t miss the warning glances they exchanged over your head. Apparently you’re in a rough enough state that even the two former enemies are united on your cause.

The only person who seems to be going through a fraction of what you feel is Thomas. Hell, he might even feel worse than you. He was the one who entered that fight with Newt, after all, and he was the only one who walked away. Thomas has been afraid to see you, you think. Maybe he won’t be able to swallow himself in his guilt if you confront him, or worse, forgive him.

You find him anyway. It’s late at night, but you don’t know that anyone on this island has ever been able to truly sleep. Not one person has gone without losing someone, and not one person has passed a restful night without seeing those deaths displayed before their eyes in neverending nightmares.

Thomas is no exception, and neither are you. He’s walking mindless loops through the worn dirt paths of the island, and you join him.

Thomas glances at you, then fixes his eyes once more on the horizon. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me at all after what I did.”

There’s no need to beat around the bush; he knows just as well as you why you’d want to talk to him.

“You had no choice,” you say simply, “although I have a feeling that won’t make your conscience any lighter.”

Thomas sighs, and you don’t think it’s fair that any young man should make a sound like that. It contains the despair and grief of multitudes, something that should only be known by decades-old generals or aged men on their deathbeds. Thomas has scarcely had a life at all, yet he already knows that he is sick of it.

“I don’t think anything could make this better. I killed him. I killed my best friend.”

You clench your jaw, trying to fight back the now all-too-familiar hot prick of tears against your eyes. “We all killed him when we left W.I.C.K.E.D., and Newt knew that. There was nothing we could have done against the Flare. You helped him from having to live the rest of his life as a Crank past the Gone.”

Thomas stops in his tracks, looking fully at you for the first time all night, or perhaps even since you came to the Safe Haven. “Does that make it better for you? To think that it was just a quieter ending? That what I did was more humane?”

You shake your head. “Nothing here is humane. I wake up every morning trying to reach him, and I go to bed every night knowing that I will never get to see him again. I loved him with everything I had, Thomas, and I never got to say goodbye to a boy who knew me. How am I supposed to go about my days without the one person who made them worthwhile?”

Thomas answers the question for you. “You forget. You bury everything in the past until it stops hurting.”

You shake your head slightly. “It’ll never stop hurting, that’s the problem. The only thing we can do is pretend that we don’t feel it.”

Thomas stares at you. “And how do you fake it enough to make it work? Nothing works.”

He speaks with a bitter, hollow grief. You know exactly how it feels; you’ve tasted that same dull horror on your own tongue with every word you speak.

“You find someone else who can take their place. They won’t be Newt, but they’ll be close enough. Maybe then we’ll get better.”

Thomas nods slowly. “Do you believe that?”

You flash him a quiet smile. “Not in the slightest.”

You don’t see Thomas for a while after that, which is partially your fault. It takes another few days for you to be able to leave your house, to brave the summer sun again. Every moment that you spend happy feels like a knife in Newt’s back. Shouldn’t you be miserable to make up for the fact that your boyfriend is dead and you aren’t?

Still, the moments come more and more frequently. You laugh at a joke Minho tells, and although the sound is rusty from lack of use and hard to fully pull out of your chest, it’s there. You stretch tired muscles by helping out around the Safe Haven, finding things to do that you would have done once upon a time in the Glade.

Also, you start talking to Thomas. You meet up after the work day is over, sitting quietly on flat stones or walking up and down the many beaches. He has a lot to say on some days; on others, he can’t bear to utter a single word. His silence is just as comforting as his conversations, because both mean that you’re not alone.

You learn things about Thomas that you didn’t know before. He has a curious mind, and never likes to let a problem sit a while if he doesn’t have an answer. He gets restless if he stays inside for more than a couple hours, as if he’s been trapped for too long and can’t stand the feeling of being caught anymore. He has a temper that flares bright if pushed, although it’s been subdued as of late.

You’re sitting together now, shoulders pressed together to stave off the chill of midnight. Dawn is a few hours away, but it doesn’t feel particularly early or late, just another night spent unable to sleep. You think you could sleep if you tried, that the dreams wouldn’t be as awful as they have before, but you’re afraid to find out.

Perhaps the worst part of healing is accepting when you’re done, because by being healed you lose all ties to the person you were before you were hurt in the first place. You have to be different now, but you had your excuses before.

Thomas has been holding something back for a while, you can tell. You nudge him gently.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

Thomas hesitates a moment before speaking, as if he doesn’t entirely trust himself to lay down the bare truth without changing it to appease you. “Do you hate me for killing Newt? Don’t give me that stuff about how it was only delaying an inevitable end, I know it was. Do you hate me for putting a knife through his chest?”

It’s a loaded question, and you know it. You wait a few moments, then continue. “No. I should, but I don’t. I feel as if I ought to hate you. It would make things easier if I could hate you.”

Without something or someone to hate, all you have left is this sickening pain in your chest. It was easy to hate Janson, or W.I.C.K.E.D., Dr. Ava Paige, or even the Flare, but you don’t have anything left to hate now. All that’s here is you and your friends and Thomas, and you could not hate them anymore than you hate the air for keeping you alive, or the sea for keeping the Cranks away.

Thomas’ fingers drum restlessly on his knee. “What if I told you that I had feelings for you? Shouldn’t you hate me then? Or, shouldn’t Newt hate me, because I’m the guy who killed him and I’m the guy who’s trying to get with his girlfriend?”

You still. You haven’t considered your feelings for Thomas, perhaps because you’ve been too afraid to consider what it would mean if you loved him and let go of the boy you loved before. Thinking about it now, though, you think you could love Thomas. The only thing in between yourself and a happy ending, after everything you’ve been through, is still you.

“I don’t know what Newt would think. Loving him didn’t make me any more able to speak for him, just with him. I think–”

Your voice cuts off, and it takes a moment to get yourself back together. “I think he wouldn’t have wanted us to hate ourselves forever. He left me a note saying that he wanted me to move on, but I haven’t been able to take his advice.”

Thomas nods. “I also got a note. I was wondering if Minho got one as well, but I’m too afraid to ask.”

You can’t help but wonder if you and Thomas were the only ones to get notes, if Newt knew even then, in his brief glimpses of sanity, that the only people capable of convincing each other to love again would be you and Thomas. You wouldn’t put it past Newt to figure it out.

“I think we could take his advice, but I need a little more time. I can’t quite let go yet.”

Thomas squeezes your hand. “Anything. Think about it for months, think about it for years. I’ll wait for you.”

You look over at him, his dark hair spangled from the starlight, and smile. His eyes are so full of concern and caring that you half-convince yourself to love him at that very moment, just to be able to share with him how important it is that he stays, as he promised.

You do get to tell him a while later. You feel surprisingly ready for the conversation, although that might be because you’ve had your first night of unbroken sleep in a very long time. You meet Thomas as night starts to slip away from you, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, and tell him that you would very much like to love him.

Thomas beams at you. You don’t know if you’ll ever see his smile without that strain of guilt slightly souring it, nor that your own happiness will ever not be tainted by the weight of all that you have lost. Still, holding Thomas as rosy dawn light tints the island with the fresh promise of a new day, you think that you could try. It will be hard to heal from all that has hurt you. For once, you think you’re well on your way.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv-blog, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42

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