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roosterforme · 1 year

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The Deployment Diaries Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your fear that you did something to distract Bradley eats away at you while you wait to hear about his condition.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

From the second the mission started, Bradley had a bad feeling. He usually felt calm and peaceful once he was up in the air. He usually felt a connection to his father. But this time, he only felt anxious.

As soon as the target had been destroyed, he and the other pilots were under almost constant fire from enemy fighters. It was literally the worst case scenario, as the F/A-18s weren't equipped with heavy weaponry. They were made for stealthy missions, ones where you hoped you weren't detected at all, ones where you shouldn't need to use more than your two allotted missiles.

The dogfight was intense, and Bradley had to help Titan out not once, but twice as the other pilot had run out of flares early on. It was such a relief to Bradley when he was out over open water, heading back to the aircraft carrier. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was able to account for the other three Super Hornets as well. They were all just trying to limp back to safety.

"Tally, tally!" called Empress through the radio. As soon as Bradley was alerted to the position of the remaining enemy bogey, he regrouped. He was the only one with any ammunition left.

"I got this," he informed the others, looping back for a better shot at the enemy fighter. For a second, all he could think about was your face. He pictured your lips as you begged him to be safe. He pictured the uncertainty in your eyes when you told him you missed a birth control pill. He pictured you in bed underneath him, laughing at a secret just the two of you shared.

"I need her," he whispered, as he lay down a round of fire, getting a few hits on the wings. But the other pilot somehow managed to keep control, banked around to the right and tried to gain the upperhand. Bradley unloaded his last round of bullets, hitting the fuel line and starting a small fire. But instead of ditching out of the flaming aircraft, the other pilot fired back, and soon Bradley had lost his hydraulics and radio functions.

"Shit!" he yelled, realizing he had no control over his throttle as every red light imaginable started flashing at him. Alarms were screeching everywhere, and he knew there wasn't a chance he would be able to save this F/A-18. Too bad he didn't have Hangman here this time to help him. If he did, he probably wouldn't have to punch out.

Now he was rapidly losing altitude. Based on his last known air speed calculation, he only had a couple more seconds to bail safely. So Bradley made sure everything was in order before he pulled the cables to eject. But he had waited too long, taken one more breath than he should have before ejecting. The aircraft started into a roll, and Bradley's torso slammed against the frame as he launched out, sending him in a trajectory where he hit his head as well.

The last thing he thought about was how pissed he was that he didn't have time to grab his helmet bag containing the photo of you.

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You felt yourself on the verge of hyperventilating. You were listening to Admiral Priscilla Franklin, but her words weren't making sense. You'd barely been able to confirm your full name for her.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw was involved in a mission related incident. I can't provide you with much more information than that."

Your eyes were filled with tears as you choked out the words, "Is he okay?"

The pause on the other end was too long. You got yourself sprawled out on your back on the kitchen floor, trying to get blood to your head so you didn't faint. Why wasn't she telling you if Bradley was okay?

"Is he okay?" you demanded louder, sucking air into your burning lungs.

Admiral Franklin sighed. "He's stable at the moment. We are waiting for him to regain consciousness. He has broken ribs, lacerations and most likely a grade three concussion."

He was alive.

"What happened to him?" you asked, choking on your tears.

"I can't provide you with more information at this time. I'm sorry." She actually did sound sorry. She could probably hear you panicking through the phone. "When he regains consciousness, the medical staff will be able to do a more thorough examination. See what kind of head trauma we are dealing with. He's being stitched up at the moment. We are going to need to get him medically evacuated as soon as he's able to deal with the flights, and get him back home. I will personally call you back with details when I have them."

Once the call was disconnected, you rolled onto your side on the kitchen floor and cried hysterically, grabbing onto Tramp when he came to see what was wrong. You cried for such a long time, your cheeks were raw and one of your contacts had come out.

Bradley was alive, but something terrible had happened to him. You started to search for information about grade three concussions on your phone. Some of the information was terrifying, and you prayed he would still have a fully functioning brain. And lacerations? He might need to have them surgically closed if they were too deep. Broken ribs could be interfering with his lungs working properly. And even though you would have done anything for him, there was nothing you could do to help at the moment.

How was he going to get home? Maybe Admiral Franklin would let you come get him and fly back with him. Did she mention when she was going to call you back? You could barely recall anything she said now.

Then your phone rang, and it was your mom. You ignored the call. You couldn't get yourself up off the floor at the moment, let alone collect yourself enough to talk to your parents. You barely moved until the room started getting darker as the sun moved across the sky. You could hear Tramp's stomach growling, and you knew it had been hours since your phone call with the Admiral.

Carefully you stood, but your body felt like it weighed a ton, and you were having a hard time walking. You gave Tramp a scoop of dog food and then went to sit on the couch. You quickly texted Phoenix and the guys, letting them know the scant details you had about what had happened to Rooster.

Then you curled up into a tight ball and thought about Bradley. You wondered if he was in pain. If he was awake yet. Was this your fault? Had he been too focused on things here to be fully present during the mission? Was he more upset than he let on that it was a false alarm instead of a pregnancy? You pressed your lips together as the tears started again.

About an hour later, there was a soft knock at the front door, jostling you out of your stupor. It took you a full minute to figure out how to stand and walk to go see who it was. "Phoenix," you said, but your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. You let her inside and she gently wrapped you in her arms. You could tell that she must have been crying at some point too, but right now she was being strong for you.

"You guys should just give me a spare house key, okay?" was the only thing she said as she led you back to the couch and gently helped you lay down once more. She covered you in a soft blanket and picked your phone up from the table. "You need to close your eyes and take some deep breaths. I'll answer any calls. I'm just going to take Tramp out to the front yard."

You nodded vaguely as she clipped Tramp's leash on and took him outside. You tried to close your eyes, but all you could picture was Bradley, his face a bloody mess, floating around in the Pacific Ocean. By the time Phoenix walked back inside, you were crying again.

"How long until they call me back? I need to know what's going on," you whispered.

"I don't know," she told you as your phone rang in her hand. "It's your parents. Want me to talk to them for you? Let them know what's going on?"

"Please," you sobbed. She answered your phone and slipped out through the sliding glass door. After that, Nat ended up doing everything. She heated up a bowl of soup and sat with you while you ate it. She got the bathtub ready for you and took Tramp for a longer walk while you soaked. She helped you change into clean clothing for bed.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered to her. "I know you're upset too. I know you love him too. But you're doing everything for me. And I didn't even ask if you're okay."

Nat pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back as she took a deep breath. "I love him, but I don't love him the way you do," was all she said before helping you into bed. "I'll plug your phone in right here on your nightstand and let Tramp out one more time before I go."

You nodded, feeling so exhausted, you thought you might actually be able to fall asleep. "The spare house key is hanging in the pantry on Bradley's UVA keychain. Take it with you," you told her as you closed your eyes.

-------------------------------

"What the fuck," Bradley muttered, trying to make his jaw work. His head felt like someone had split it open with an axe. He had no idea why he couldn't open his eyes, and his thoughts were a mess. He reached for you across the bed, trying to find your body in the darkness. You must have gotten up already. Had he even slept? What day was it?

"Start the morphine drip. He's going to be in intense pain when he wakes up fully."

He didn't know who was talking. It sounded like there was a problem though. Did something happen to you? He needed to open his eyes and figure out where you were.

He opened one eye a tiny bit, and he saw bright lights and movement. He closed his eye immediately. Then everything came back. He left for the mission. You took six pregnancy tests. They were all negative. He had to bail out of his fucking aircraft.

He tried so hard to talk. He needed to know what was going on. He needed to call you and make sure you were okay, because something was telling him you weren't. But now the pain in his head subsided to a dull throb, and he thought it might be a nice idea to fall asleep for a bit.

When he woke up again, he was finally able to open his eyes. "What the fuck?" he asked again, and this time someone answered.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, welcome back," came a cheerful voice that made Bradley want to punch someone. He looked around to see a man in scrubs examining his left arm, and when he examined it too, he jolted in surprise.

He was covered in lacerations. They had been stitched up, but it was still a mess.

"Where am I?" Bradley asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The infirmary aboard the USS Ronald Reagan. I'm Doctor O'Connor. You had to eject from your aircraft, and you were recovered from the water. We are treating you for your injuries, which I'm sorry to say are extensive and numerous. However, you should be just fine in a few weeks."

Bradley stared at him in shock. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday afternoon."

"Holy hell. I need to call my girlfriend. Immediately." Bradley's heart rate spiked on the monitor, causing him and Dr. O'Connor both to check the screen. "She must be worried sick."

"Someone has already been in touch with your emergency contact."

Bradley had changed his emergency contact from his mom's cousin Brenda to you, after you and he had been dating for a few months. When Bradley asked you if that was okay, you'd seemed surprised yet really happy about it. And a few days later, you smiled and told him that you made him your emergency contact person as well.

But he couldn't imagine you were too overjoyed at the moment. He wondered what you had been told about his condition.

"When can I go home?"

The doctor hummed and looked at the computer screen. "Maybe tomorrow. You'll need access to a larger medical facility. You don't have any hemorrhaging or blood on your brain, but you did have extensive head trauma. Now that you're fully cognizant, I'll keep you updated on the plans."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered as he walked away. Extensive head trauma? Numerous and extensive injuries? He needed to talk to you, so badly.

-------------------------------------------

Admiral Franklin called you at four in the morning on Wednesday, and you jumped instantly out of bed.

"Hello?!"

"This is Admiral Franklin. I have return flight information for Lieutenant Bradshaw."

You gasped. "You're sending him home? Is it safe for him to fly? How's his head?" You had heard from her one other time on Monday afternoon, with an update on his condition, but there had been some concern that he might have blood on his brain. You had no idea how you'd made it to work this week.

"His brain is fully functioning. He should make a full recovery with the help of some doctors on base in North Island and a lot of rest."

You screamed. Literally screamed with joy and jumped around the room and started crying. "Thank you!"

You could hear the smile in her voice. "Are you ready to take down his flight information?"

"Yes!" you reached for a pen in your nightstand, but couldn't find paper, so you wrote it down on your leg.

Tomorrow night, just before midnight, you would be picking Bradley up at San Diego International Airport. He was coming in on a flight from Australia. You had literally no idea what had happened to him or how he had been injured, but it didn't matter, because you were going to pick him up tomorrow and bring him home!

You decided to call Phoenix and wake her up with the news. "This actually is worth being woken up for in the middle of the night," she said, voice raspy with sleep. "Let me know when you want me to stop by this weekend. I'll bring food and Jake and the boys, and I'll make them be on their best behavior."

Next you called your parents to give them the good news, since it was a normal time to be awake on the east coast, and you listened to your mom cry over the phone. And that made you cry, and then you laughed and cried together.

And when you got to work and told your boss you needed to use a vacation day on Friday, and possibly Monday as well, he told you, "Take as many days as you need to. Just let me know when you'll be back."

-------------------------------

Bradley was up and walking with help the following morning. But more importantly, he was allowed to eat and use the bathroom by himself. And most importantly, he had been informed that you would be picking him up in San Diego.

Walking made him dizzy, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but the doctors told him to spend as much time moving around as he could. He was itchy and annoyed by the nearly one hundred stitches on his arm and neck, and all he wanted to do was take a hot shower.

He would most certainly have more scars after this. It was just unclear how bad they would be, since he was still so bruised and swollen. And as he walked a lap around the small hospital wing, he couldn't help but think of his parents. Bradley had two bad ejections so far in his career, but nothing like the fate his dad had suffered. And the last thing he wanted to do was turn you into the kind of woman his mother had become after Goose died. So maybe his parents were somewhere, somehow watching out for him.

------------------------

You changed into jeans and Bradley's UVA tee shirt after work and started cooking. Your heart was lighter than it had been in days. Even if it was your fault, and Bradley was distracted because of you, at least he would recover.

You made Marry Me Rooster along with several other things that could be reheated throughout the weekend. Bradley was going to need to eat plenty of good food and get a lot of rest. And after you took him to see a doctor on base tomorrow afternoon, hopefully you'd have even more information about what you could do to help him heal.

Bradley had emailed you from the airport in Australia. It was short and sweet.

Baby Girl,

I love you. Will you please pick me up at the airport? I'm coming home on flight 731. I'll be the guy with the horribly bruised face and a big smile just for you.

You figured if he was making jokes, he was doing pretty fucking great. You had made plans for the other aviators to stop by on Saturday or Sunday, contingent upon how your boyfriend was feeling. Phoenix promised she would wrangle the boys if needed. But you didn't want to focus too much on that. You just wanted to pick him up in four hours and thirty-two minutes and bring him home.

His flight was listed as on time, so you got there about an hour early, just in case and found a bench. Without a boarding pass, you couldn't get past the baggage claim area, so you send a message in the group text you had started with Phoenix, Hangman and the other aviators. When you went to tuck your phone in your pocket, it started ringing.

It was Jake. "Hey, did you see my texts?" you asked.

"Yeah, I did, Angel. Hey listen... if I know Rooster, the reason he told you ahead of time about his bruising is because he probably looks real bad. You understand?"

You paused for a second and thought about Bradley's pretty face and his perfect body. "Yeah?" you said to Jake. "What about it?"

Jake sighed. "I know you're going to nurse him back to health and do a great job, too. But Rooster is self-conscious about his scars."

Your brow scrunched up. He wasn't that way with you. Not really. But you'd told him right from the start how sexy you thought he was. That wasn't going to change now, no matter how he looked. "Jake, is this your way of trying to tell me to be encouraging about how bad my hot boyfriend suddenly looks? If so, I'm not going to think he's less hot now, I promise."

Jake chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm trying to tell you. Just make sure he knows that. I know would feel terrible if I came back to my girl looking anything less than my best, okay?"

You started to roll your eyes, but then you realized Jake was probably right. "I'll make sure he knows how I feel about him. Sound good?"

"Night, Angel."

You paced around, thinking about what Jake said. Maybe Bradley looked like a mess, but you didn't care. You just needed him to be with you, and then you would take care of everything for both of you.

You heard an announcement about his flight number and the corresponding baggage claim. So you headed in that direction. But thirty minutes later, you had collected his duffel bag with the large Bradshaw patch from the conveyor belt, but there was still no sign of Bradley. You took his bag out of the way of everyone else and looked up and down the walkway for him. You got your phone out to call him, although you really didn't want to rush him. But you were dying to see him at this point.

Then you saw him from a distance. Nobody else was that tall with such a graceful gait. Nobody else gave you goosebumps just from the way they moved. You knew it was him immediately, and you broke out into a smile. Bending down and hoisting his bag onto your shoulder, you took off in his direction as quickly as you could move.

As you got closer, you started running, and when you could make out his smile, you started crying.

"Bradley!" you called to him.

"Baby Girl!" he called back and you tossed his bag to the floor and came skidding to a halt in front of him.

"Oh, Roo. Oh, Bradley." You covered your mouth with your hands. He truly looked terrible. His face was swollen and bruised and you could see stitches peaking out all over the place. His left arm was bandaged and resting in a sling. But he was smiling down at you as you wiped tears from your eyes, and he ran his right hand through your hair.

"Can I touch you?" you asked softly, and Bradley slipped his right hand around your waist, slowly pulling you closer until your body was gently touching his.

"Please touch me, Sweetheart. It's the only thing that will make me feel better."

You laughed through your tears as you let one hand rest gently on his chest. "You scared me," you whispered, throat tight with emotion. "Like a whole lot, Roo." You let your other hand trail up over his neck and swollen cheeks, avoiding the clusters of stitches when you could.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he whispered back, kissing the tears on your cheeks.

You laughed as he made contact with your skin, and then you started sobbing harder.

"Come here," he told you, wrapping his right arm tighter around you.

"I want to touch you, but I don't want to hurt you!" you blubbered, trying to pull out of his grasp.

"You're not hurting me. Touching you could never hurt me," he whispered into your hair. "I love you. Plus, I'm taking a lot of pain medication."

He held you and let you cry against his chest. "I love you, too," you managed between sobs. When you finally looked up at him, he bent down slightly and softly kissed your lips.

"I'm so much better now, Y/N," he promised. "I just needed you. I'm so sorry I made you worry. And I know I look horrible right now."

You smiled up at him and shook your head. Jake's words bounced around your brain, but you didn't have to lie to Bradley when you said, "You're still the sexiest guy I've ever seen, Roo."

He barked out a laugh and tipped his head back before grimacing in pain.

"Now let me take you home and take care of you."

-----------------------------------

When Bradley tried to pick up his duffle bag with his good arm, you snatched it up off the floor and scolded him. "Absolutely not! Nothing strenuous until a doctor tells you it's okay!" Then you laced your fingers through his and guided him out into the cool July night air. "I brought the Bronco, because I figured you'd be more comfortable with more room."

Bradley kind of hated your little car, but he'd never tell you that. You were convinced the thing was invincible and would last you ten more years. Bradley on the other hand was hoping it would die next week so you and he could pick out something bigger.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," he said, pulling your fingers up to his lips. He watched you smile as he kissed your hand. This was the hand the ring should have already been on. He knew he needed to talk to you about the skipped pill and what that meant between the two of you, but he didn't feel like getting into it right now.

Despite flying back in a first class seat, Bradley hadn't been able to sleep much. He was itchy and uncomfortable and exhausted, but he knew as soon as he was with you again, he would feel better. And he honestly did. He watched you toss his duffel into the back of the Bronco, and said, "My girl's so strong." That earned him another soft kiss on the lips. Then you guided him to the passenger door and opened it for him.

Bradley gingerly climbed in, cringing a bit as his cracked ribs got used to the seated position again. A look of panic flashed across your face. "I'm fine, Sweetheart. Just really sore."

"Okay," you whispered. And then you took the seatbelt in your hand and gently pulled it across his body and buckled him in.

"That's my job," he whispered against your neck as you clicked it into place. But you were shorter than he was, and now you were draped across his thighs. "Baby Girl, climb on my lap," he instructed.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. You licked your lips and tried to read the expression on his face. "Mmhmm," he hummed.

"Roo," you gasped. "I don't want to hurt you."

You were wearing his shirt and the necklace he gave you, and he was needy for you, and now you knew it.

"Nothing hurts below my ribs. Climb on my lap. Please, just for a minute."

Slowly and carefully, you planted your palms on his thighs and eased yourself onto his lap, his right hand coming to rest on your hip. You shimmied up his thighs until you were straddling him, and then you placed your hands on either side of his head on the headrest.

"Bradley," you whined, letting your lips meet his. The kisses were so sweet, but your bodyweight on his thighs had him getting a little hard. He had missed you in every way.

"I'm sorry I made you worry. I hate doing that to you."

"It's okay," you told him between the gentle kisses you planted on his lips, nose and forehead. "Don't do it again."

He smiled and rubbed your hip through your jeans. "I'll try my best not to."

------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading along and loving them!

PART 20

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deepsix-writing · 3 months

Text

Fix You. Chapter 1 of 5. (BEGINNING)

After the events of Marble Hornets, Tim is left to pick up the pieces of what is left of his old life. One piece in particular has him haunted.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

When Tim had first seen the hooded figure lying motionless on its back after falling off the balcony, he'd thought, good. Another puppet of the Operator down… one step closer to putting an end to this nightmare. He hadn't realized it was, instead, the beginning of an entirely new one.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Never had Tim known the sound of a dial tone so well. His devotion to that voicemail inbox was as a priest to his god; He knelt in prayer morning, noon, and night, begging and pleading with whatever force it was that looked down on him from heaven to let him hear his best friend's voice just one more time. Steadfast in faith, he never stopped calling, never stopped hoping, even as the seasons changed and he did too. Even as the police came in search of missing persons, and went when they found nothing, Tim remained. His razor collected dust in his bathroom. A beard as thick as his misplaced hope had cropped up on his face.

The investigations had been particularly difficult for Tim, especially when detectives had shown up on his doorstep. For Brian's, he'd easily been able to shrug them off and convince both them and himself that the college student must have been off visiting family out in the west, or enjoying a break from classes by the coast. It was summer, and the benefit of the doubt was his seldom hope. He called Brian's number and let the voicemail play for the police once, then a million times more for himself after they were long gone.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Then came Alex's. The film student had worked up a track record of unexplained disappearances already (something Tim relayed to the cops word for word), but Tim didn't have much else to say about him. The man had already painted the walls of Tim's mind with a noxious crimson; he couldn't bear to lose another shred of his regards to him. The detectives said they would keep in touch with Tim if they discovered anything new, and they went on their way. Tim let the sound of Brian's canned voicemail message fill the empty space in the meantime.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't.'

Time marched on. Tim marched on. In the mornings, he took his medicine, listened to the voicemail, and afterwards he went to work. Admittedly, the job he worked was a crappy one, but it was the first he'd managed to hold down in years. It would do. Tim would keep to himself and do just enough to get by until he was let off in the evening. Stopping by a gas station for cheap junk food on the way home was a mandatory part of the routine; he would do anything to prolong the inevitable sight awaiting him in his apartment.

He wades through the garbage of his overgrown and messy apartment after he wedges the door open and carefully locks it back up again. It is welcome procrastination for when he makes it to his bathroom and looks in the mirror. When he looks at himself, all he sees is blood.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message…'

His god is dead. Tim isn't sure how long he's been praying to a corpse, but now he's able to smell the rot. It fills his nose and makes it hard to think. When he looks in the mirror, all he sees is death.

A tidal wave of blood replaces the ringing in his ears. He grips the edges of his sink. He stares down a murderer. A brutal killer that single-handedly delivered the end to all of his closest friends. People who'd had rich lives and bright futures ahead of them.

Alex's last moments replay in his mind. His hands, the same ones that had gone white with how tightly he gripped the countertop, were the ones he had used to stab the film student in the throat and the image would never ever fucking leave him. Over and over, again and again until Alex was coughing and hacking and drowning in his own blood. The sound of a punctured windpipe was not one he would ever forget. The scene had smelled like metal and victory at an impossible cost. His hands had been stained red ever since.

It was a microscopic change, one Tim hadn't noticed at first, but he was certain the skin on his hands was a shade redder than the rest of his body. No amount of hand-washing or showers or even bleach would fix it, and no one at his crappy job had known him long enough to see the change like he did. But Tim knew. Tim could hold up his hand against his face and be able to tell. His hands were cursed by a near-transparent shade of crimson, and any time he looked at them, guilt burnt a hole in his stomach. His anxiety would be remedied with another replay of the voicemail that never changed.

It had taken Tim longer than he could proudly admit to figure out what that had meant for his former friend. Combing through Jay's online archive of footage to find out exactly who the hooded man was had taken even longer. It was like watching his brother's last moments on video after finding out he'd died the same night. In comparison, the voicemail was like hearing the voice of his patron saint.

Tim's faith dies in the middle of the night, when he lies in bed with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. The device is perched over his head, shining down on his face as he calls Brian's number, listens to the voicemail, and hangs up.

'Hey. It's Brian…'

It's a neurotic dance he repeats until his eyes grow tired and he's just on the verge of sleep, and then…

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

Tim dropped the phone on his face before he knew how to react. It fell in the crevice between his side and the bed, and it took him a frantic moment to wrench it out.

"Brian, Brian! Holy shit, are you okay? It's Tim. It's me, Tim! Are you okay?? What, What happened–"

"Woah, hey!" Tim realized it wasn't Brian's voice. "-I'm not – I just found this phone on the side of the road earlier. It's not mine."

Then it set in. Then something withered inside him. When his lips moved, it was a miracle.

"…Where on the side of the road?"

"Oh, just by Rosswood Park. So are you friends with this Brian guy? He probably wants his phone ba–"

Tim snapped his phone shut and never called the number again. Sleep did not come to him that night, and in the next few weeks they were as lovers on thin, frayed ropes. Circles as dark as his guilt weighed down his eyes. Thoughts he'd put behind himself years before came running to catch up with him.

Tim was dead. His hope was a flickering candle that had been tossed into the ocean. It hadn't stood a chance. He hadn't stood a chance. He only knew of one thing left to do.

He found that one thing in his car keys and in his drive to Rosswood Park and in the loaded handgun he'd stuffed in his pocket. He parked his car sideways in the lot overlooking the forest. The front end of the car dipped past the painted dividers, and usually he'd hate it when people left their cars parked like that. Every time, Tim would grimace and regard the sight as a result of the driver lacking common decency. But in that moment, it was the last thing he could have ever thought to care about.

It was funny, how one simple piece of knowledge had changed Tim's entire perspective on life. He had decided that morning would be his last, and just like that, the world had flipped on its head. The rising sun was brighter, the morning sky was prettier, and his bed had been warmer. He even felt like cooking a meal for himself that day.

Tim went to the store after showering and dressing himself in his cleanest clothes. He bought just enough ingredients for this one recipe, and he even bought dried rosemary. It came in a little glass bottle, and was a dollar and sixty cents more expensive than the store brand spices he usually bought. Every time before, his eyes had passed over it. He'd excused the idea of buying it despite seeing it as an ingredient in countless recipes because it wasn't worth it, the dish would taste just as good without it, it was a waste of money. But when he used it to cook his last meal that day, it was like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle he'd tried to put together years ago. It was the best food he'd ever tasted.

In the park, the birds chirped like an orchestra catered to Tim's ears. It was late fall, and the golden hues of falling leaves orbited around him. Before he joined the barren trees ranks, he sent a text to his former manager. Dead men can't work.

For a dead man, his feet were sure and steady. He knew exactly where he was going: the same place he'd died once before. Its once pristine white walls were peeling, and it was covered in graffiti now, but it hadn't changed any more than Tim had.

At the hospital, Tim had learned how the world worked. You start out whole, and every time the world beats you down, it takes a piece of you. With every friend he'd lost, Tim lost a chunk of his soul. And when he'd killed Alex, he'd lost a bigger chunk than he could have ever anticipated. Tim knew he wouldn't have enough of himself left afterwards to survive losing anyone else.

He'd always tried to find those pieces. It was the only reason he hadn't split town the moment he'd had the chance. Tim's eyes had always been full of stars and the against-all-odds hope that one day he could find those pieces again. Or maybe, he'd thought, he could find them again in someone else. But that someone else was gone, now.

Whatever pieces that had left him had rotted and decomposed. They nourished the soil that crept up from the floor of his old hospital room and grounded the lichen that hung from the ceiling. Time could put the very foundations of the room to ruin and Tim would still feel the years he'd spent locked away here like the ache in his feet from walking all this way.

It was as fitting a place as any to die. Tim envied his younger self: back when his mind was his biggest problem, and not his actions. As he closed the half-hinged door and trailed his hands along the peeling paint of his coffin, he hoped and prayed no adventurous teenagers would come and run into his body until the next summer, when wild animals had taken the pieces of him that would be left behind. He didn't want this place to harbor any more trauma for anyone else. He would end that legacy here and now.

Tim pulled the handgun from his pocket. It was warm from resting against his thigh. He brought it up to his chin, then thought better and let the tip of the barrel press against his temple. But it felt wrong. Too dramatic, too highschool. The warm metal slid to the center of his forehead instead. But he couldn't grip the trigger as well, he started to think that instead he could-

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tim assumed it was the dead man's manager, replying to the dead man's lukewarm resignation text. But why not read a dead man's phone while he still could? He let the gun rest against the side of his head as he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

'Hey. I know it's been a while since we've talked and you're probably pissed at me (understatement I know) but I need a ride. Really really need a ride. I'm supposed to be gone by 4, so if you could be here by then, I'd owe you my life.'

The text was from a number he didn't recognize and was accompanied by an address for some place in downtown Tuscaloosa. Tim was just on the verge of clicking his phone closed, excusing it as meant for someone else, when the unmarked number sent another message and suddenly there was no air in his lungs.

'This is Brian btw. Lost my old phone.'

Tim's grip on the handgun's trigger turned to wrought iron in his surprise, and a loud BANG made the last piece of himself jump out of his body. His ears didn't have enough time to stop ringing before both his phone and gun clattered to the floor. His fingers shot up to his head and he felt dizzy when he pulled them back to reveal blood.

Tim fell down on his ass and suddenly there was a fire in his body that burned hotter than the pain in his head. He wanted - no, needed - to stay alive. Even if that text wasn't actually from Brian…

No, it had to be. Needed to be. Tim brought his hands back up to his head, clasping his temples and crying out in relief when he realized his skull was still intact. Blood and heat still poured from his head, but he'd managed to isolate the unknown injury to a graze mark along his left temple. It was enough to sting like a bitch when his fingertips met the open wound, but wasn't deep enough to reach the bone.

It was the second most profound miracle of the day.

The third was how he'd managed to get back to his car without anyone seeing the state of his face, and fourth was the first aid kit he had stuffed in his car. He'd bought it impulsively about a month after he'd started listening to Brian's voicemail recordings, just in case he ever ran across his old friend on the side of the road on his way to the store or work. He had always held out hope for that man.

Tim checked the clock. 3:24pm.

The address from the text message had to be at least twenty minutes away. Shit.

Tim's work of patching up his temple through the foldout mirror in his car was sloppy, and no neater was he when he stuffed his handgun into the glove compartment and jammed his keys into the ignition. The ringing in his ears was the only accompaniment to his wild thoughts as he sped down the road to meet the man behind the text that had given him a new lease on life.

The address turned out to lead to a neat little building just a few blocks from the not-abandoned, non-psychiatric hospital in downtown Tuscaloosa. The sign out front seemed medical, but through Tim's stinging temple and his racing thoughts and the fire in his gut, he couldn't read past 'rehabilitation'. Tim pulled his car into the lot by the front doors and his parking job is just as crooked as it was in Rosswood Park's lot.

He's about to leave the car, but confronting whatever lies in wait for him suddenly wrenches his heart back to the park. His head lurches and he is in his bedroom with his phone, hearing the stranger's voice through Brian's number.

A cigarette would help ease his nerves, he's sure, but a sign by his car advertising a 'smoke-free facility' discourages him. He settles with rolling down his window and alternating between resting his arm on it and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It's an ineffective compromise.

Tim looks at the front of the building through the film of grime on his windshield and watches as people filter in and out of the front doors. Some are in crutches, others have casts. All are accompanied by medical staff in clean uniforms, all accompanied by smiles and kind, encouraging words. Tim wonders which of the staff fake their smiles, and which of them see their patients as less than human. He averts his gaze as he locks eyes with one of them, too scared he'll find thinly-veiled hatred for him, too.

When a skinny figure in a wheelchair exits the building with a nurse by his side, Tim does not make the same mistake of not recognizing his best friend. He is bumbling along the paved concrete at a snail's pace, struggling to get the wheels to move smoothly. The chair goes sideways every other inch he advances, but his clothes are clean and he is smiling.

He is smiling. Brian is alive and well and smiling and Tim is launching himself out of his car without so much as turning off the engine. Brian says something to the nurse and laughs and only has a fraction of a second to throw his old friend a surprised glance before Tim snaps up the space between them like a greedy animal and holds him tight. His arms squeeze Brian with no mercy until an awkward chuckle from the man threatens him to burst.

"Gh - uh. Happy to see you too, man." Brian's words are choked out through strangled breaths. "I'd hug you back, but uh– ok. I can't breathe."

Tim relents only a moment later when Brian starts wheezing, and when he peels himself away, his hand still lingers on Brian's shoulder. Wayward priest, meet your angel. Here to reunite you with your maker.

Brian is glowing, at least in Tim's mind. His clothes are cleaner than he's ever seen them, and even as Brian says something to him that he doesn't make out, he's smiling. It's that same stupid, cheeky grin he'd wear whenever he'd tell cheesy puns and jokes to Tim in highschool. Those upturned eyes that always looked towards the sun and would exchange glances with him that said a million words regarded him now with joy despite it all. The same fiery passion in his gaze and ice water in his veins was there now, even now that Tim had completely blanked out on his words.

"Uh… Tim? You alright?"

Brian's voice carries all of the same, and Tim is undone. A weight melts off his shoulders, but something holes itself up in his throat. All he can manage is a nod.

Brian exchanges a look with the nurse and looks back at Tim. Then, he laughs. The sound is a fire that burns away Tim's fear and anxiety and gives way to a giddy feeling he can't remember the last time he'd felt. He moves a hand up to wipe his face and sniffs. He hadn't realized how wet his face had gotten.

Then, he smiles back. He isn't sure if his words will hold, but he tests the waters anyways.

"I missed you, Brian."

I thought you were dead. I mourned for you. Grieved for you as if I'd watched the soul leave your body with my own two eyes.

"I missed you too, Tim."

Brian just smiles. And it's more than Tim could have ever possibly hoped for.

#marble hornets #tim wright #brian thomas #fanfic #writers on tumblr #mh

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adudelolwriting · 12 days

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oooo for the ask game, "lovers to enemies" with either Brian and Tim or Jay and Tim? <:)

so uh . i went a bit overboard with this. heres 1.2k words, hopefully you enjoy !! (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Tim had been friends.

They had met in college, and the two quickly got along. It was strange, for Tim. He had just met the taller man, and it was clear Brian was always going to be there for him. They even shared the same living space during college.

Brian didn't have a car, and so Tim drove him a lot. That's how he met Alex, through Brian. Tim had never been interested in acting before, but Brian insisted he at least tried out, and Tim got the part.

The start was… fun. There were a lot of jokes, goofing off, and just hanging around. But as the weeks went, Alex changed before stopping production completely and never being seen again. Okay, sure. Whatever.

Brian left.

He still kept contact with Tim, but now it was only through calls and texts after he finished college. The house they shared seemed emptier.

Brian doesn't keep in contact with Tim anymore. He knew the day would come eventually, but Tim's heart still squeezed with grief. Maybe he had convinced himself that Brian would be different, his first friend out in the real world. (Tim shakes his head. He doesn't need to think about this.)

Tim is losing time. He's blacking out, waking up in the middle of the woods or street or field, hours, days, weeks from what he last remembered. He always wakes up with a shitty plastic mask, and he throws it out but somehow it's always back.

This goes on for years. The medication starts to help.

Tim still misses Brian, as he finishes moving out of this house. Tim misses him a lot, seeing everything that still reminded him of Brian. He shakes his head, taking one last look at the house, holding the last box of his things. It felt like a goodbye, a real, proper one. "I miss you, Brian," Tim mutters under his breath before turning away for the last time.

Tim gets a random call one day. It's Jay, who's asking about Marble Hornets. It brings back to many memories, but Tim still says he can help where he can. They line up a time to meet, and Jay seems very insistent on knowing information about Alex, but, whatever. The two weren't that close in college, but Tim supposes he was around enough. He answers Jay's questions, and soon enough Tim's left with a "I'll call you later and let you know."

Something's wrong.

Tim's blacking out again. It's been harder to keep stable jobs. It feels like his life is falling apart again.

Tim's being stalked by someone. They wear a yellow hoodie, and have something covering their face. They're pretty good at hiding — Tim's only seen them once or twice. (Who knows how many times they've been here?)

The hooded figure is fast. Tim can never hope to catch up to them.

Tim contacted Jay, this time. He found some old tapes from back when Marble Hornets was being filmed, and figured the other would enjoy having some. Tim can't remember what's on them, but hopefully it'll be something useful for Jay.

Jay lied.

Tim can be a very angry person. He knows this — that's why he tries to keep it under wraps. But when he sees Jay again, he couldn't hold himself and he punches Jay. He lied. He lied. He never wanted to continue Marble Hornets. He just wants information and wanted to play hero.

Tim was doing fine. He was doing better. Then Jay came around, pointing his stupid camera everywhere, and suddenly everything went down the drain! Tim's whole life was coming undone because someone wants to play detective, someone wants to try and help people who can't be helped!

He never wants to see Jay again after this. He never wants to hear the words Marble Hornets, or tapes, or cameras or anything.

Tim missed Brian. He's been thinking of him recently, with the film on his mind more than normal. Brian was sweet, kind, caring, patient. Everything Tim wasn't.

Tim… god, Tim missed him.

His medication is going missing.

He knows this — he knows he had some earlier. He saw it. But then it just wasn't there when Tim needed it, when Tim's coughing fits lead to seizures. Which leads to blacking out, and waking up face down in the dirt.

With the last person he wanted to see, apparently. Jay had also been taken out here, that damned camera left with him and letting him record everything as if it has no effect on anyone else.

Tim wouldn't say he was depressed. But god, days like these? It made Tim feel like nothing was worth it. But he had to keep going. Even if he always throws away this mask, but it always ends up back in his hands, or his house, or car.

Tim wasn't as angry as he was before with Jay, but he still didn't want to be walking through Rosswood with the man.

Tim and Jay started working together. It seems the universe wanted them to stick together.

Jay tried to attack Tim. Tim hid one tape from Jay, because it was about Jessica, and Tim knew he would react badly. But bringing a knife? Did Jay really think that was going to be okay?

Tim tied Jay up, took his camera and knife, and left. Jay would be fine at his own house while Tim left to look around Benedict Hall.

Jay escaped. Jay went to Benedict Hall. Jay was shot. Jay was dead.

Jay was dead.

Tim went home. Everyone he knows is dead or missing or left him.

Tim goes back to the college. He's going to find Alex.

He finds the hooded figure. (Why do they seem familiar?)

He chases them. (Tim needs to take revenge.)

Up a flight of stairs. The figure is hanging over the balcony.

Anger fills Tim's veins, and then the body drops.

Silence.

Tim looks over the edge, and the body is unmoving. Tim makes his way back down, and they're not breathing. (Ignore that.) Tim searches their pockets, pulling out a tape and some of his medication. He's been out for a while now. Tim downs two pills.

The tall creature shows up before Tim could unmask the hooded figure. Tim runs back home.

He watches the tape.

…

It…

……

It was Brian.

The yellow hoodie. It was Brian.

Another person Alex took from him. Tim's best friend, his first one. Alex took him.

(And now Brian's dead because of you.)

No, no — it was Alex.

Seth, Sarah, Amy, Jessica, Jay, Brian. Alex killed them all. Alex killed them. Tim needed to stop him. He led Alex to his house, and Alex burned it down.

Tim had nothing now.

He had nothing to lose.

He found Alex again in Benedict Hall, hiding behind the screen of that demonic creature. Tim found him. That thing kept teleporting them around, but Tim held on and fought. He had nothing else left.

Tim kills Alex. He goes home.

God, Brian was dead. Tim hated the hooded figure, and he wanted it dead, but… he was Brian.

Tim felt hallowed out. He went to sleep, nightmares plaguing his mind.

Brian was dead.

Tim didn't have anyone or anything left.

Brian was dead.

#adude.writes #adude.requests #marble hornets #brian thomas #tim wright #hoodie #jay merrick #RAAAAAAAAAAH OMG THANK YOU FOR THE ASK #i found ur alex-centric fic and WAA i became a fan ever since.... ur so cool this ask jumpscared me soso bad #ty for the ask aaa !!!!#this was meant to be around 500 words #it is 1.2k LMAO

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mouthsfullofsharpteeth · 2 months

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werewolf timlex wjere no one but alex knows im is a werewolf & he finds out by accident and theyre gay about it but jay notices Animal Hair on alexs jacket from all the dogy cuddles and goes haha wow alex did you get a dog?? i didnt know you had a dog?? are you even allowed those in the dorm?? and notices that TIM has more fur on his clothes, he usually has very little remnants that he meticulously cleans off every morning but since hes been shedding all over alex the shed on alex is getting on HIM and jays like 🤨🤨🤨🤨 i know what you are (secretly gay and living with alex in some house with a dog) and tims like 😰😰😰 (werewolf)

DHAJJDJSKFJJSKDJD YELLING FHFN

Anon this is so fucking funny, you especially couldnt have described that last bit better, that is hilarious. I love when we let ourselves get SILLY with the marble hornets. Too often we get caught up in angst only, but the humor deserves to be taken advantage of.

Especially with Jays little detective trope oh my gosh!!!! Thats so freaking funny. Like where does that confrontation go?

Is Tim gonna crack and be like “fuck you got me…im a werewolf” and Jay is just

“I thought you were just gay….”

LIKE THATS HILARIOUS

God thank you for this omg. Cracking up over this concept

#asks #werewolf tim wright #jay merrick #timlex

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evielutionevie · 2 years

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GAY BUGS GAY BUGS GAY BUGS

I did an illustration of my Phantom Thief HK AU…. I love them

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wickerfox · 2 months

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I have no idea what Marble Hornets is but I am very much interested in your au 👀 I got no specific questions but- *sits down* I wanna hear all about it :)

OHOHOH I THANK YOU Starting off, what's Marble Hornets? Well it's an online horror series that follows Jay Merrick after finding his old friend Alex's tapes from when he was working on a student film called Marble Hornets, but things get very weird and freaky when he realizes there was something going after Alex. Very very VERY basic summary of the premise of Marble Hornets, and this au follows the premise pretty closely but as my own au has places were it differs

So this au, Grian finds a box of old tapes given to him 3 years ago by his old friend Martyn who he hasn't spoken to since. The last conversation they had was when Martyn gave him the tapes and when Grian asked what he should do with them, Martyn replied, "Burn them." The tapes themselves contain the old footage of a student film project Martyn was working on (that I'm probably not going to call Marble Hornets just for my own preference.) Deciding to reminisce on old times he starts watching them and notices a lot of weird things in the tapes. Notably a lot of audio and visual distortion, and something, or someone, that keeps appearing in the background. He decides he's going to start documenting all his weird findings in a blog, and as a result gains the attention of someone who keeps sending him weird and cryptic messages. As time goes on the tapes lead him to start asking questions and looking further into things and ask what happened during the filming of this project. Cue Grian becoming an amateur detective trying to solve what happened all while being stalked by a mysterious account online and strange entity only known as The Watcher.

So that's the basic premise, like I said it follows the original pretty closely but there are plot points and details that change in this au. Other characters include Jimmy and Scar who were actors on Martyn's project, Martyn's friend Scott who helped him workshop a lot of stuff back in the day, Scott's roommate Pearl, and Big B and Ren who were extras on set who get a passing mention.

I have a whole outline on this au and its plot points and reasons I picked certain characters to fill certain roles and I'll definitely be sharing more soon I already have more doodles of this au (cough and a friend who may or may not be encouraging me to write a fic cough)

#marble deserts #marble deserts au #marble hornets au #need to come up w a name for this au bc I also want it to be the name of the project Martyn was working on #ive heard marble hermits but I think that's someone else's thing and this is more life series/evo than hermitcraft #marble life?

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jamesbracket · 1 year

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The matchups have arrived!

This tournament includes 96 characters named James, Jim, Jimmy, and Jay (with some others too), and they will all be competing in 6 brackets of 16, and the winners of those will be participating in two semifinals, and the winners of the semifinals will fight each other in the final finals! (Basically, it’s just how I did it on @blue-character-brawl, but with the amount of participants cut in half.)

Here are the matchups:

Bracket 1

Jim Hopper (Stranger Things) VS. Jim Halpert (The Office)

James “Rhodey” Rhodes (Marvel) VS. James “Bucky” Barnes (Marvel)

James Bonde (Moriarty the Patriot) VS. James Blond (Super Mario Brothers Super Show)

Jim Rockford (The Rockford Files) VS. James Bond (James Bond)

Jimmy Carter (Real Life) VS. James Madison (Hamilton)

James Byrd (@byrdsfly) VS. James Byrd (Spyro the Dragon)

JayMoji (Real Life) VS. James Phryllas (Real Life)

Jimmy Z (Wild Kratts) VS. Jimmy T (WarioWare)

Bracket 2

James Baxter (Adventure Time) VS. James (Adventure Time)

Jamestown, Virginia (Real Life) VS. James Webb Telescope (Real Life)

Jim Henson (Real Life) VS. Jim Davis (Real Life)

Jimmy Olsen (DC Comics) VS. Jim Gordon (DC Comics)

Jay Gatsby (The Great Gatsby) VS. James Henry Trotter (James and the Giant Peach)

Jimmy Neutron (Jimmy Neutron) VS. Shimmy Jimmy (Phineas and Ferb)

James McCloud (Star Fox) VS. Jay Elbird (Ace Attorney)

James (Wii Sports) VS. James (Papa Louie)

Bracket 3

Captain James Hook (Peter Pan) VS. James Norrington (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Jim Hawkins (Treasure Island) VS. Jimmy Hopkins (Bully)

Jamie Waring (Black Swan) VS. James Flint (Black Sails)

Jamie McCrimmon (Doctor Who) VS. King James IV (Doctor Who)

Dr. James Possible (Kim Possible) VS. Jimmy Pesto Jr. (Bob’s Burgers)

Prince James (Once Upon a Time) VS. James (Princess and the Frog)

jim teacher (This TikTok) VS. Nagasaki James (Noonbit Man)

James March (American Horror Story) VS. James Vane (The Picture of Dorian Gray)

Bracket 4

James (Pokémon) VS. James T. Kirk (Star Trek)

James the Red Engine (Thomas and Friends) VS. James P. Sullivan (Monsters, Inc.)

Jamie Fraser (Outlander) VS. James Sunderland (Silent Hill 2)

James Ironwood (RWBY) VS. Private Jimmy (Red vs Blue)

James Rallison (Real Life) VS. James Huckle (The Search for Santa Paws)

Jay Walker (Ninjago) VS. Jimmy McGill (Better Call Saul)

Jaime Lannister (Game of Thrones) VS. Jimmy Novak (Supernatural)

Jem Carstairs (The Infernal Devices) VS. James Herondale (The Last Hours)

Bracket 5

James Wilson (House MD) VS. Jamie Tartt (Ted Lasso)

Jim Lake Jr. (Trollhunters) VS. James Hunter (Animal Ark)

James (The Walking Dead) VS. Jimmy (Scott Pilgrim)

James-Roman Grilfalinas (@artificialkids-2k23-official) VS. Jimmy Lightning (Peggle)

Jamie Wellerstein (The Last Five Years) VS. Jamie Winter (Midsomer Murders)

James Holden (The Expanse) VS. James Ford (Lost)

James Garrett (Zoey 101) VS. James Amber (Life is Strange)

Jay Merrick (Marble Hornets) VS. Meanie Jim (Junie B. Jones)

Bracket 6

Jim Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes) VS. James Maguire (Derry Girls)

James Black (Detective Conan) VS. James Gunn (Real Life)

James the Cat (James the Cat) VS. Jimmy the Robot (The Aquabats)

Jimmy King (Emmerdale) VS. Jim Johnman (Monster Factory)

Jame Palrose (Terror Island) VS. Jimmy (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac)

James Diamond (Big Time Rush) VS. James Herriot (All Creatures Great and Small)

James West (The Wild Wild West) VS. James Maxwell (We Happy Few)

Jimmy Campbell (Bandstand) VS. James E. Negatus (Yonderland)

Round 1 of Brackets 1 and 2 will be going up on Saturday, May 20!

#jamesbracket #bracket #competition #tournament

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 6 months

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I love mood boards and celebrations! How about some badass Bob?

See you in the afterlife, Bagman.

I know, I know... This is not what most people think when they think of Bob being a badass. But that's where I tend to see things differently. Who could be more badass than the guy directly involved in all air operations and weapon systems of a military aircraft? Following the 1970s, two-seater jet configurations, including the F/A-18F Super Hornet often featured programmable multi-function displays. These programs allow roles to be more flexible than previous generation aircraft. Multiple crew members can be responsible for detecting, targeting and engaging air-to-air or ground targets, communications, datalinks and/or defensive systems. Traditionally in combat, though, pilots usually retain the responsibility for flying the aircraft. So yeah... Bob's a badass just as he is.

This is one of the boards from my 300 Follower Celebration! Want to join in? Send me an asking following these guidelines!

#star writes #star's 300 follower celebration #moodboards #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob #robert floyd #badass!bob #top gun #top gun maverick

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staysluttymyfriends97 · 1 year

Text

Sisters best friend , but love of my life part 2 ( Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Reader)

What you need to know: It is not very nice of Phoenix to jump to conclusions that Jake has no idea how Y/N feels about him. It is also not very nice what Jake feels he has to do to set things right.

AN: I have some bad news... Part two might break your heart a little but do no worry I will put it back together Also I am writing in the guy POV for the first time Im a little nerves about that. But go with me because I am so in love with how this turned out.

Part one and part three my sweets

There will be 3 more parts to this so just hold on any hearts I have broken will be fixed ( that is a warning haha)

As soon as I get to Phoenix I let her have it. “What on earth do you think you are doing?” I try to keep my voice down so Y/N doesn’t hear me.

I want to check over my shoulder to make sure she is in the barn. I know that if I look at her she’ll be worried about how angry my face looks.

“What did you tell her?” I let my hands rest on my hips.

“I just told her you carry her letters with you.” She was acting way too calm and I didn't like it. Phoenix was used to being in the face of danger, so I knew right now she was channeling that reserve. I raise my eyebrow at her. I know there is more.

She sighs, “I also told her to ask you about why.”

I swear I could see red. Years I have spent keeping Y/N just an arms length away was about to go out the window. I want to see the fact that Phoenix thinks she is being a good friend. She thinks she is helping me out by pushing myself and Y/N together. What she doesn’t know is that she is swinging a bat at a hornets nest. I didn’t think I could regret my drunken night of telling Phoenix about Y/N anymore then I already did, but here we are. I start to pace in front of her. I know Y/N will not jump to the conclusion that what Nat is trying to say is that I love her. Y/N is the type of person who will not jump to a happy ending. She will think of the reasonable first. To her, me wanting her the same way she wants me is not just unreasonable, it is unfathomable. I hate that I know that. I hate that I feel safe in the fact she will think nothing of it. But now, she will want to come to me for an answer anyway and I will have to come up with a lie to throw her off. I can’t tell her what letters I keep with me and I surely can’t tell her why. That would be my dead give away and Then she would know. I turn my body fully away from Phoenix, and look out over the farm. Maybe an answer will hit me in the face if I just keep looking. I hear Nat shuffle her feet and then she spoke.

“That girl loves you, it is rude to have her think her love it just one sided.” I whip my head around to look her in the face.

Her face softens, and she almost looks sad. I want to tell her calmly why it has to be this way, but I can’t grasp the calm part of me right now.

“Trust me it is much easier being the person who thinks it is one sided, than being the one who knows it's not.” My voice bites out as I face her. “Stop acting like a detective who just put the pieces of the puzzle together. You think I didn’t see the hope in her eyes when she turned 18? Or again when she turned 20? You don’t think I knew she was thinking ‘this will be it. He might finally do something’? It kills me!” Digging my boot in the ground does nothing to help release some of my frustration.

“Then do something about it, Hangman!” She pokes at my chest.

“I fucking can’t.” I seethe. She is poking a bear, she just doesn’t know it yet.

“Yes you can! What the hell is stopping you? Just tell her and go from there.” She throws her hands up in the air.

“This isn’t fear. This isn’t a scared man who doesn’t know how to commit to one person. This is my life being narrated by a legal document. A document signed 100 years ago saying the Seversin family cannot marry someone from the Y/L/N family. They did it so the farm would never split. If someone from my family marries someone from hers they forfeit their right to run the farm one day. Don’t you understand? This place is her life. This farm is her Top Gun.”

It finally sinks in and it stops her from pushing farther. She doesn’t move and the downcast look on her face tells me she understands the gravity of what she has done.

Drunk me seemed to have left this part out when I told her about Y/n. I don’t know how. That stupid rule has been on my brain since I was 24. Now I have my friend in front of me who is upset with herself.

From the way I act around them I don’t really blame her. A cocky man who doesn’t want to commit to one person, I can see how she got there. It is just in this small town of Texas, my home town, around that girl, that I am not that man. I know Phoenix was doing what she thought was best but you know what they say about good intentions: The road to hell is paved with them.

I slide my hands in my back pockets as I turn to walk back, nodding my head in the barn's direction telling Phoenix to follow. I was done talking about it. Now I have to figure out what I was going to do about it. Phoenix falls into step with me. When we get to the barn I let her walk in before me and I allow the door to shut behind us. The wind picks up making it shut much harder than I wanted it too. The sound alone makes Y/N head swing towards me. I know she is reading my face and picking up on the anger. She has always been good at reading me. I could breathe the wrong way and she would be onto me in a second. Her eyebrows raise asking me the question. I just shake my head in response.

“So, next on the tour I could show y’all the calving barn. It’s where all the baby cows are.” Kate said as she started to bounce on her feet again. She was always so happy. She is the most carefree of us all and it truly showed. She tows Bob by the arm to get him where he needed to go. Poor man looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He just went with it with a small wince. Roster and I both were laughing at the interaction. Y/N was busy looking down at her watch and this gave me a moment to finally observe her. Her hat sat snugly on her head, she has her favorite striped shirt on, the blue one. Her cut off jeans allow me to see those strong legs of hers, tan from the summer sun down to her boot clad feet, with one tapping rhythmically on the barn floor. She does that when she gets focused, my heart squeezes at how well I know her.

She let out a sigh, I quickly looked away from her. “Well this is where I depart on the welcome home tour. I should go check fences.” She gives a wave then makes her way to her horse's stall.

I didn’t even have time to think before I spoke. “I will go with you.” Everyone turned to look at me. I just shrug my shoulders at them. “I’ve been in this barn my whole life. Plus this is me paying back Y/N for waking up early every morning to come help me.” I give Y/N a smile before I make my way to the tack room to gather her saddle.

As I walk through the door I hear Bob ask what her horse’s name is. I laugh in anticipation of the answer and she shoots me a look over her shoulder. That knowing look just makes my love for her grow.

“His name is Radish.” Y/N says with a smile. That could only be because she loves the question people ask next.

“You named your horse, Radish?” Roster looks puzzled but everyone else got the joke. Man she loves it when she can get someone to call him horseradish.

“Yes I did, you see the reddish tint he has that is why. Also, because Jake said I wouldn’t do it.” She cuts her eyes at me as she laughs. I make my way to the tack room to gather all the things she needs. When I step out I see she has gotten Radish out so the others could pet him before we saddle him up.

“So this is your horse?” I don’t look at Bob as he asks the question. I move to step around him and throw the blanket on Radish’s back, having already set the saddle down at my feet.

Me and Y/N answer at the same time. “He is ours.” She is standing on the other side of the horse so I look down at her over his back. I love how her face lights up when she says that. This horse is the one thing that is just mine and hers. Growing up we were the only ones who took care of him. So many nights of just me and her in this barn brushing him down and talking about how to train him. It was just me and her. How it should be.

“He was Jake’s but I kind of took him. So we have share custody of him. He won’t let Jake ride him if I am around.”

“We learned that the hard way.”

“Don’t say “we”. I knew, but you just didn’t want to listen to me.” She rolls her eyes at me. She isn’t wrong but I just like saying we. I shake the thought away and finish tightening the saddle down.

“Fine, you can be right this time.” I give Radish a slap on the butt as I move to walk around to the side the others are on. “He is all set. I’ll walk y’all out and go grab Ranger.” I give Y/N’s shoulder a squeeze as I walk past her, with the others to the end of the barn.

“Be good to them Kate. No tricking the boys into getting on a bull.” She just gives me a toothy smile. One of her favorite things is talking people into bull riding. I have seen her do it too many times to not bring it up now. She just rolls her eyes as she takes hold of Bob's arm again and starts dragging him along. I want to be upset that she seems to have some kind of crush on him. Between him or Roster, I will say I am happy with Bob. I stand in the doorway of the barn and just watch them walk away. I know as soon as I go back in the barn Y/N is going to start asking questions. As much as I want to lie to her and just brush it off, I know with one look I will be done. Any lie I could come up with would be gone. I turn on my heels and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

I walk back in to see she has already put the tack on Ranger and has the leads for both horses in hand as she walks to the far end of the barn that leads out to the field.

“You didn’t have to do that, I was coming back.” She turns her head slightly to give me a look then rolls her eyes as she continues to walk to the exit. We have always done this. She dresses my horse while I dress hers. It started when she was younger and didn’t know how. As she learned she would just get Ranger, doing the same as I did.

When I get to her, I reach to take the lead from her hands but she moves them away. Oh great we are doing this now. Just for fun I try one more time to take them from her. She just moves them farther away. She then takes both leads and ties them to a post by the doors. She faces me and no words need to be spoken as she places her hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side.

“What was Phoenix going on about?” She asks like what Phoenix said was a joke and I was about to set her straight. What she doesn’t know is that my answer will blow her life up and tear the relationship we have apart.

“Well, I don't know I wasn’t there.” I am trying just to brush it off.

“Jake, please work with me here.” She takes a step towards me. Panic rushes in and I can’t think.

“Then ask a question I can answer.” I sigh. “What letters do you carry with you?”

“Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why?”

Damn her stubbornness.

“Because I want to tell you the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth!” She exclaims.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not getting what the big deal is.” She’s getting frustrated with me, her mouth is doing that twitch.

“If I tell you, you’ll understand.”

She crosses her arms, waiting.

I run my hand down my face in defeat. “The letter in my cockpit is one of you describing the farm with a picture of a rooster crowing at the sun.”

“And the one in your jump suit?”

“It is the one when you were talking about your future. And your future husband. You drew a picture of two people holding hands.”

“You have 100s of letters, why those?”

“Y/N Please stop.”

“Tell me why Jake!” She demands.

“What good does knowing do?” I shrug.

“Please? I will beg.” She warns.

“You will never have to beg for anything from me. It has always been yours.” I say softly.

Please don’t make me tell you the truth. Please just let me lie to you.

She shakes her head. “Jake.”

“The one in the cockpit is where I go home too. The one in my jumpsuit is who I go home to.”

I have been keeping that to myself for so long, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. It's only when I look up at her the weight finds me again. I can almost feel her brain spinning. Her face keeps shifting. She has this joy that takes over then confusion. She then starts pacing. It's the cutest thing I have ever seen. Every few seconds she turns to me to speak but says nothing, then goes back to her pacing. I could let her do this forever.

“So now what?” she finally turns to me. It is my turn to be confused.

“What do you mean now what?”

“We feel the same jake. So now what do we do?” Her brow wrinkles.

“We do nothing.”

“What the fuck, that can’t be your answer.”

“That is my answer.” I say firmly

“What? No. No that can’t be it. You can’t feel that way for me and want to do nothing.” She snaps.

“Don’t you ever think I want to do nothing about it.” I warn.

“Well here we are, Jake, you wanted to do nothing.” Her hands fall to her sides with her frustration.

“This isn’t what I want! We can’t do anything. Why do you think I haven't told you all this time?” I plead.

“Tell me this isn’t about the rule?” Her arms cross over her chest, and she pins me with a glare.

“It's not a rule, it's a contract! Signed by our families saying they will never marry and if they do, they forfeit their right to the farm. You want this place right?”

“How long have you known?” She demands.

“Since you were 18.” I mutter.

I didn’t see it coming but I felt it. The slap to my face was hard. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I met her eyes again. She was full of anger now. Truth be told, I was okay with it. If she was mad at me, even if she hated me, maybe she wouldn’t want to be with me. She would keep this place. I wouldn’t have to spend my life being the one she loves and the one thing she regrets. She spins on her heels, takes the reins and rides off with Radish before I can say another word.

Tag list: Here you are my beautiful people who wanted to be on the tag list! If you want to be added just let your girl know! Also you dont know the joy it brings me that people want to be on this tag list.

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#Jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #top gun x reader

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