#horseshoegirlwrites

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo! 

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day. 

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort. 

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much.  Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock. 

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such. 

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile. 

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus. 

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear. 

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know. 

 But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn. 

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick. 

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.” 

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly. 

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!" 

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly. 

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both. 

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most. 

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind. 

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. 

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process." 

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars. 

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.  

You hoped he did. 

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment. 

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest. 

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice. 

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role. 

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were. 

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more. 

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of. 

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart. 

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed. 

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same. 

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride. 

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet. 

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon. 

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it. 

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to. 

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him. 

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head. 

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight. 

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin. 

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised. 

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far. 

People were weird when it came to shit like that. 

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary. 

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket. 

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down." 

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?" 

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity. 

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants." 

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” 

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as. 

It made your heart flutter inside your chest. 

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner. 

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar. 

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot. 

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake. 

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further. 

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric. 

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.” 

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara. 

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold. 

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?” 

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?” 

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.” 

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.” 

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity. 

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked. 

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely. 

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it. 

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.  

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on." 

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!" 

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough. 

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror. 

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain. 

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace. 

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours. 

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach. 

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party. 

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't. 

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it. 

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out. 

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!" 

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?" 

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve." 

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting." 

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?" 

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning. 

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance. 

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself." 

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought. 

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know." 

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before." 

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like. 

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head. 

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both. 

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?" 

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?" 

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off. 

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude." 

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did. 

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides. 

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment. 

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!” 

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked. 

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it. 

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it. 

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced. 

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you. 

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight. 

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points. 

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you." 

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return. 

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—- 

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.  

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start. 

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude. 

 Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now. 

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either. 

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself -  an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations. 

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element. 

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress. 

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.” 

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.” 

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place. 

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to. 

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat. 

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety. 

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close. 

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily. 

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her. 

“Have you seen Jake around?” 

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?” 

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.” 

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh. 

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.” 

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit. 

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.” 

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.” 

“Ahm...”  

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it. 

“That,” you offered. 

 “I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight. 

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room. 

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another. 

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked. 

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin. 

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall. 

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little. 

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow. 

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his. 

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair. 

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view. 

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight. 

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered. 

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes. 

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you. 

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else. 

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe. 

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this. 

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet. 

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear. 

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

 How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights." 

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled. 

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.” 

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?” 

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier. 

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?” 

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.” 

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.” 

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.” 

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss. 

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.” 

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.” 

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it. 

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat? 

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be. 

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place. 

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right? 

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

 No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had. 

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple. 

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut. 

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do. 

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you. 

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place. 

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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Set Me Alight - Part 1: Seventeen Going Under

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

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

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

#6k Words

Masterlist | Part 2

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

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

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

Why, you might ask?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Maeve, we thought…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Midge.

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

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

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

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

Jake was his best friend, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You owed her that much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you like to be?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally, Midge and Jake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck Maeve, you are not going there!

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

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

The further away he was, the better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello to you too, Aunt Viv.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your friend, right? Nat?”

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

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

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

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

“Boyfriend trouble, Midge?”

Almost.

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he is a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How dare he touch you!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagging a few people from the tag list form! Let me know if you want to be tagged! Or if you're interested in being tagged in fics now or in the future, Click here.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @fanficfandomlove @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hookslove1592 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @lynnevanss @dempy

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@formulafun @djs8891

-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 2: Abracadabra - Coming soon!

#jake seresin fanfiction #horseshoegirlwrites #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #sma #Set Me Alight #maverick top gun #top gun au #jake x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun x reader #hangman fic #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life. 

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world. 

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites. 

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further.  You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said. 

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside. 

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.” 

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

 "You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold.  "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."  

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates.  "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe. 

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?" 

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this." 

You know it's not those two she's referring to. 

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out.  "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!" 

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel." 

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further. 

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. " 

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm. 

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?" 

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted." 

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!" 

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain. 

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.  

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down.  If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill. 

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope. 

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you.  He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill.  You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead. 

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you." 

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!" 

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest. 

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!" 

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion. 

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile.  "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out. 

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

 Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!"  Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal.  And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

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Please let me know if Tumblr didn't notify you! I've been having issues with being tagged in things myself. If that is the case, I can work on trying to find an alternative.

Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

#horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #set me alight #top gun au #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman seresin #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #Spotify #top gun fanfiction #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You

📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.

#4.8 k words

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee? 

Yeah. It got worse. 

Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.

All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.

It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.

I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.

But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.

You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.

It was making everything that much worse.

As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.

The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.

Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.

You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.

You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist. 

If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.

Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.

Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.

But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.

Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.

It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?

As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.

They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you. 

"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.

You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great. 

 While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own. 

The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.

No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.

And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.

There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.

Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.

Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?

In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall. 

He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.

Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.

Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.

Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.

The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.

He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then. 

You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.

The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag.  After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.  

After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.

The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.

By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.

With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.

While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.

 Or, so you thought.

Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.

Then, she screamed.

You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.

The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face.  Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened. 

You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.

As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.

But were you sorry for how that turned out?

Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.

Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.

She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben. 

It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.

Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.

You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.

It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.

"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."

You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"

Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.

You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."

He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."

Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.

Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.

Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way. 

She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.

As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.

All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.

"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."

God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!

Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.

You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.

He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.

"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"

Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.

You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.

Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.

And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."

As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin. 

You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."

News flash - You're not.

"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."

"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.

Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.

It's a stupidly optimistic thought.

"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"

He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?

"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"

"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"

"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"

He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."

"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.

"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"

"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."

But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.

"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"

You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"

"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"

You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.

Fuck.

Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.

Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.

She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.

But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.

You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.

"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"

You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.

"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."

Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.

You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.

"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"

Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.

"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.

"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"

Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.

"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.

"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."

"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.

You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”

This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.

They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.

Or worse... Someone would confirm it.

Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.

The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.

"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.

You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.

"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."

Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"

"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.

You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.

"Bradley... I didn't..."

"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."

He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.

Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.

He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.

He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.

There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?

But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.

Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.  

So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)

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Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress

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[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 3: You're So Vain

📜Back to our regularly scheduled broadcasting of these two in the present day, trying to 'not' kill each other. Maybe...

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, injury, pranks, and angry/snarky Midge.

#7.9k

Part 2 | Masterlist | Part 4

*Present Day*

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!"

Metal banging. Metal fucking banging. That was the noise you heard outside your tent as you woke up, groaning and hiding your face into your tiny pillow.

Somebody was clanging the ever-livin' shit out of a metal pot outside your tent. You had a pretty good feeling who, and it only made you reach for the edges of your sleeping bag to pull it tighter over your head.

Grace in the tent next to you whined out, "Somebody, please turn it off!"

"It's fucking six in the morning, Jake!" Bradley called out hoarsely from somewhere across the campsite.

The banging stopped, followed by Jake calling out, "We have to get a move on if we want to get a good campsite for tonight!"

It wasn't even past lunch, past breakfast, and he was more worried about where he was going to sleep tonight.

It's a hiking trip, not navigating the fucking airport.

You moaned, rolling onto your back and calling out, "Who made you the alarm cock?" before faking a loud cough and following up with, "Oops, I mean clock."

There was a pause. Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the sound of leaves being crunched under a pair of boots approaching your tent. Within two seconds, the person grabbed the fabric at the top of your tent and started to pull. Your entire tent shook, and you screeched as the flimsy plastic bars holding it up appeared as if they would snap at any second.

Covering your eyes with your forearm, you shouted out, "Jake, stop it! You asshole! You're going to break my tent!"

He didn't. At least not right away. Jake pulled at least another five times before he decided to stop, laughing loudly and obnoxiously.

"You could always share with me! Come on, you don't think that would be fun? We could tell ghost stories and all the gossip. Maybe even share a sleeping bag and keep each other warm."

Clearly, he had already forgotten about the little fight and agreement, if you could call it such, yesterday.

"Over my fucking dead body," you deadpanned, throwing your arm back to the ground with a thump.

"It's too early for your guy's shit!"

That could have been Javy, you thought, but it also could have been Mickey. Either one could have been just as equally pissed off at waking up at any time before ten.

"Tell that to him," you called back. "I was asleep!"

Collective groans sounded off around the campsite, singling Jake had succeeded in waking everyone else up with his antics. You don't know whether to laugh or cry. If he wanted to start shit this early, there was no telling what else he was going to pull as the day went on. Because if this was anything to go by, Jake had no intentions of staying out of your

That didn't mean you would, though.

You weren't going to pull anything. At least, not until this trip was over. 

There were some shuffling noises in the dirt before Jake finally called out to you from a distance, "Time to get up, Midge! We aren't going to wait for you!"

Maybe you could find Poison Ivy somewhere out in the bush and stuff it into his bag on the last day. 

Sighing once, you stretched against the bed roll, deciding you probably should get up. You were hankering for a cup of coffee, and you knew without a doubt you'd need the caffeine to get through the day.

It took you a few minutes to get dressed and organize your sling bag so your paints and brushes would be within easy reach. To make up for the half day yesterday because Nat was about fairness, Jake would take charge of the compass for one more day. If he could manage to follow the instructions on the back of the map, ones you and Nat had laid out, you should be stopping at a cliffside for an incredible view of Mount Rainer at a distance for lunch.

Just as you stepped outside of your tent, you were greeted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head, spying Veronica making her way to the entrance of your tent.

“Ah, Morning, Midge.”

You want to either hide or hurl. Maybe even both.

Your interactions with her had been limited at best. She and Javy had only started dating two years ago, and even then, encounters with her were limited to larger social gatherings. You often suspected she preferred it that way. Between going to school and being a social media influencer, there was not a time when you saw her without her phone, capturing moments with Jessica or Javy, even Nat, only to turn them into content for her TikToks.

There was not a time when you didn’t see her with Jessica either. The two of them seemed inseparable, the dynamic so ingrained into your mind that it was difficult to separate the two. Wherever one went, the other was guaranteed close behind.

“Painting in the wild, I see?” she said, gesturing to her bag. “Never thought you’d get out of the studio.”

That was the thing about Veronica. She was as hot and cold towards you as they come. What you ever did to her, you will never know.

You huffed a laugh. “Surprised you even knew I have a studio.”

“I keep tabs on everyone,” she declared, bringing her hand up to flick at a bright pink manicured nail. With her hand still raised, she eyed you with a narrow stare. "Sold any of your paintings yet?"

You would never admit it aloud, but her comment hit a nerve. As it probably was meant to. It was common knowledge throughout the friend group you were trying to gain more recognition as an artist. While it was true you probably didn’t hit the ‘big wig’ level Veronica believed to be the pinnacle of success, you had indeed sold some of your paintings to a small but dedicated following. Playing the long game was better than producing something with no quality.

But it had been a few months with no success. Something Veronica, being who she was, would have latched on to without remorse.

Why she had decided to be a bitch to you this morning, you weren’t sure why.

“And what’s your point of asking me that? Cause I know for a fact it's not cause you care about what I paint.”

"I just thought I'd check in on your little hobby and see if it's going anywhere," Veronica said, her tone evidently laced with condescension. "But clearly, you're too sensitive to take a bit of friendly interest."

You laughed. Hard.

“Is this just your way of feeling important this morning? Because, honestly, you could try something new, like minding your own business for a change. I don't ask you why you don't have brands jumping into your DM's to collaborate with you."

Veronica’s face started to flush a bright shade of red, her shoulders stiffening. You watched it happen, not before your eyesight shifted to the group of people standing next to the firepit. Jessica was watching the two of you interact with wide eyes and a smug smile stretching across her face.

You knew right away why Veronica had approached you. Clearly, she woke up deciding to be that attack dog on the other side of a very, very tight leash.

You barely registered Veronica as she brushed past in a fury. Her elbow made a swift, seemingly accidental contact with the bend of your arm and your bag. In an instant, the bag’s flap came undone, and your paintbrushes, their case, and your tin case of watercolour paints clattered to the ground, scattering in all directions.

Your heart sank fast, a sense of panic twisting a knife in your stomach at the thought of any damage being wrought.

"Oops, how clumsy of me," Veronica said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. She didn't stop or look back, continuing her path as if nothing had happened, already seeking out Jessica standing by the firepit with everyone else.

You knelt as you heard slight giggles in the distance as you reached for the first brush, wanting to inspect it for damages. Watercolour brushes were expensive, if not delicate. You wouldn’t have risked bringing them on such a journey if not for how easy it was to use watercolours for this type of thing. Not to mention eco-friendly.

Luckily, no damage had been done from what you could see on the one, and the tin case of paints had landed in a soft spot of mud. The tin had mud gracing its surface, but you knew the tiny pucks within wouldn’t have split with such a soft landing. The thought makes you sigh with relief.

"Here, Maeve, I'll help you out." 

You looked up to see Bob kneeling down next to you, reaching for your paints. Despite the knot in your stomach, a soft smile graced your face, and you thanked him quietly, reaching for the farthest brush away from you. 

"Don't let him get to you. Or Veronica. They are just being shit disturbers." 

You scoffed, adding the brush to the pile Bob had created. "I didn't know we'd be encountering more than one ignoranus on this trip." 

Bob paused for a second, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully before he let out a snort and reached for your brush case. "You know that's not actually in the dictionary." 

"One can dream." 

Bob shook his head, beginning the process of sliding each brush back into their individual slots.

“Can I help with anything?” Nat asked as she walked by with a smile on her face.

She did not see any of that, you realize. You shook your head, managing a tight grin as you titled your head towards Bob. “I think we have it covered. Thanks though. Could you maybe snag me a cup of coffee?”

Nat nodded, making her way over to the drip pot someone had brought. You watched her go, feeling a small sense of relief at the thought of a hot cup of coffee. It was a minor consolation but welcome, nonetheless. However, when Nat returned, her hands were empty, and her expression was apologetic.

“Jake packed it all away,” she said.

Of. Course .

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your voice had risen more than you intended, causing Jake to glance over at you from his chair. You narrowed your eyes at him as Nat left you to join Bradley.

“So, I can’t even have a cup of coffee before we set off on the hike?” Your tone was sharp, your annoyance with the situation, with Jake, with the entire morning, everything.

“We need to hit the road, Midge. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“A big deal?” You couldn’t believe his nonchalance.  “Silly of me for expecting a bit of normalcy on this trip.”

"You can’t always get what you want, Midge," he shrugged from his chair, a grin on his face. "There's some hot water left, though."

Jake turned his head back in the direction of Ruben, who was standing over the grill covering the fire, stirring some oatmeal, and you couldn't help but hang your mouth open.

The sheer audacity of his remark makes you fall back on your heels, glaring at him. You're pretty sure you're breathing fire. And if they could, your eyes would be turning a pretty shade of bright ruby red, directed at him. You want to stand between his spread legs as he sits in that fold-up chair. You want to grab the hair at the back of his head and yank. Maybe even knee him in the groin when he wasn't looking and make him grunt with pain.

"Ah, you alright there, Midge?"

"Just dandy," you gruffed out to Bob, not taking your eyes off Jake as he slipped his coffee, the red 295 ml YETI rambler encompassed solely by the palm of his hand.

He probably just got it, along with all his other camping gear. It would totally be something only he would do, rich kid prick.

He looked like it, too. Lounging in that Green and brown Patagonia sweater that probably cost more than anything you owned. And his watch - vintage, clearly expensive, and limited edition. That one accessory on his wrist probably held more monetary value than any piece you'd ever or would create. It was infuriating how good he looked, how effortlessly everything seemed to come to him. Even you couldn't deny that frustrating fact. 

So did Jessica, it would seem, waltzing over to where he was sitting with a certain gleam in her eyes, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. 

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, your fingers clumsily searching for your brushes without success. Your eyes, however, never strayed from Jake. Your hand closed around one, and you brought it towards your lap, fully intending to place it with the others.  But watching them converse, you only gripped that single paintbrush tighter in your hand. 

And Jake, damn him, just soaked it all up. He was basking in her attention like it was the most natural thing in the world. He lounged back in his seat, practically radiating confidence as he gleamed up at her, letting her stroke at his shoulder.

She had no shame ogling at him, even flirting with Jake when her boyfriend was literally right there, making her breakfast for her. The thin piece of wood of your painter's brush nearly snapped under the pressure of your tightening grip.

Bob placed his hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it once, then twice, bringing you out of your heated glare. You shook your head, eyes meeting Bob's friendly face. "I know it doesn't compare, but I have some tea in my bag instead. I can make you a cup?"

Your anger calmed under Bob's kindness, and you loosened your grip on the thin piece of wood, letting your thumb stroke absentmindedly over the spot where you had pressed into it. There was an indent from your nail, and you cursed to yourself.

These were brand new, too.

You nodded at him with a swallow. "That's kind of you, Bob. Only if you are making one for yourself."

He returned your nod with a smile, getting up to find his bag. You however, turned your gaze back to Jake, though less intense.

How you would get through the day, you had no idea.

Poison ivy, yes. In his underwear? Definitely.

----

Barely.

Just. Fucking. Barely.

That was your answer to your question. You're pretty sure your tongue has permanent bite marks scarred into it from how many times you resisted the overwhelming urge to call Jake out on his bullshit.

Why did you decide to be the bigger person? You honestly can't say why. But the urge was there in everything Jake did, whether it was opening his mouth or simply standing still.

It was the exact same as yesterday. You're at the back again with Cora and Grace. You attempt to add to the conversation where you can, but being the last person, your position puts you in the prime spot to people-watch.

It's difficult not to keep your eyes off Jake. He's drawing attention even when he's not doing anything noteworthy. It was even worse when every time Jessica or Veronica seemed to complement his skills flirtatiously, he flirted back. No doubt enjoying the attention and making it all about him.

Not to mention how he selectively listened to certain members of the group more than others. Like Bob, who pointed out the tracks of a deer in the mud along the trail. And how the deeper indent on one of the tracks indicated it sensed you guys were coming, for it to twist and take off into the bush.

Jake spoke over him, talking to Bradley about dinner, who was seemingly genuinely interested in what Bob had to say.

That one bothered you the most. Even when the group finally reached the outlook for lunch, it still played on your mind. So much so you had sat there for the better half of the lunch break, your sketchbook thrown across your lap and a brush in hand, staring up at the famous volcano, not once putting paint to the page.

Why did he always have to make everything about him?

And yet, you still had said nothing. Not then, and not even when you all packed up and left. Not one thing. You weren't going to do it.

So, what, exactly, was your tipping point?

When Jake suggested the entire group deviate off the trail and up the side of a small steep hill, though it looked more like a cliff face.

"No fuckin way."

Mickey grimaced. Bob stepped away from you. Cora and Grace huddled together, and Nat dropped her head only to wince, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Bradley even held his arm out in front of Jake.

"Midge..."

"That's too steep for all of us with the stuff we are carrying!"

"We'll save an hour and a half going this way!"

"And risking everyone's safety for the sake of 'practicality' is just reckless. We're not all expert climbers, Seresin! One hour and a bit is nothing!"

You stepped forward, making a swipe for the map. Jake lifted it out of your way before you could grab it; however, the compass fell, and you reached down to collect it before he forgot about it.

In the midst of this, Veronica and Jessica watched from the sidelines. Jessica's face was alight with a mix of excitement at the unfolding drama and irritation that Jake's attention was so fixated on Midge.

"Guys, let's just think this through," Nat said, trying to mediate, while Bradley echoed, "There's no need to turn this into a bigger issue."

"Yes, Jake," you said pointedly. "There is no need to turn this into an issue when there was none in the first place." Your voice rose with each word, not quite angry but not civilized either.

"I'm not suggesting anything we can't handle, Midge."

"Really? Are you forgetting Mickey and Javy are carrying the food, which already weighs a shit ton? How are we going to manage to get it all the way up that?" you asked, gesturing to where they were standing, packs resting at their feet. "Or how Cora and Veronica are carrying their tents, on top of their own things? How can they climb something with that much weight on their backs?"

"Less time to be carrying everything, don't you think?"

"If you look at the map, the route we've planned out is smoother and easier on all of us. And predictable! We could lose our way by taking a different path."

Cora piped up from the back. "I agree with Maeve."

Grace nodded with her, as did Bob and Mickey. Bradley turned, placing his hand on Jake's shoulder. "Jake, I think we should listen..."

But Jake shrugged him off, stepping towards you.

"Midge, I've no doubt about your talent in leading a brush on canvas. But navigating in the wild? That's a whole different kind of art form, one you're clearly not as proficient at."

"Jake," Nat shouted. "That was very uncalled for!"

Something dropped in your stomach, and your eyes started to burn.

"Fine," you stated firmly. "You know what, I'm out. I. Am. Out."

Truly, you meant to gently toss the compass to him in the hopes he'd see it coming and reach out to catch it. You wanted to be rid of it and the conversation as quickly as you could. You were done. Done arguing, done caring and offering your opinion when it was dead-set clear Jake didn't care about it anyway.

But as you threw it, your anxiety took over. What should have been a simple toss turned into a frustrated, heavy-handed fling, like you were skipping a stone across a large lake. The compass flew faster, harder, and higher up than you intended, striking Jake squarely on the forehead.

Collective gasps shot around the group, yours included.

My bad doesn't even begin to cover it.

You don't know what's worse. The feeling of guilt settling in your stomach over it hitting his head, or for having felt that feeling of said guilt.

The silence throughout the group was just as bad, too.

"Enough!" Nat is the one to break it first, coming to stand between the two of you, her arms stretched out. Jake has a hand on his forehead, rubbing the skin through the back of his baseball cap. Your mouth is closed, and your nostrils are flaring hard with each rapid breath you take, purposely averting your eyes to stare at the ground.

"Given we have all this stuff we have to carry, we are sticking with Midge and I's original plan. We didn't spend all that time 'mathing' the hell out of those trails for nothing."

Not that you saw it, but Jake raised his eyebrows at Nat's words, his eyes then shooting to your body, taking in how you were looking at the ground.

"You and Midge planned the whole thing out?"

You lifted your head, squinting your eyes. "I know my way around more than just a paintbrush, Seresin."

"Midge..."

"Just save it, Jake," you snap, your voice on the verge of breaking. "You don't need to add to the damage that's already been done."

Without another word, you turn on your heel, holding yourself by your elbows across your chest as you go to hide behind Cora and Grace. Cora offered you a sad smile as you passed her, offering you her hand from behind her back as you came to a stop. She pulled you directly behind her so she might shield you from the looks of the rest of the group.

You didn't say a word to anyone else for the rest of the hike.

---

It was no lakeside or real private area, but the campfire Bob put up was a welcome companion. It's soft crackling, popping, and heat made you feel comfortable against the eerie feeling of being surrounded by the woods this late into the evening.

You were deeper into the park than yesterday, this campsite slightly bigger than yesterday. Despite Jake's instance that none of you would find a campsite for tonight, there are no other hikers around. It's simply just your group, so you have this place all to yourselves.

It doesn't feel like it. Out beyond the treeline, you are sure something is watching you. Stalking you. There are hidden shapes in the dark, moving and transforming with every searching look. Each rustle of the bushes or sweep of wind makes you hold yourself tighter, the concept that anything can happen in the woods was becoming real with each passing second.

Last night seemed to be okay. But now? You have no idea how you were going to manage to fall asleep tonight.

Nat and Bradley took off the second they got their tent up and ate dinner. You're not sure where, but you were positive it had something to do with getting some 'alone time.' Everyone else seemed to go off and do their own thing as well. You couldn't say you blamed them.

You wanted to escape, too.

You try to focus on the flames roaring out of the pit. Each orange twists as they reach towards the sky. Each colour changed as each flame tracked higher and higher. You think about how you would paint them, how each stroke would form the flame.

Until you aren't because the colour of the stone pit, the dull grey, reminds you of the compass. And everything from today comes rushing back in, accompanied by intense feelings of shame.

You had let your anger get the best of you. You knew that. You knew you shouldn't have thrown that compass directly at Jake's head. It wasn’t one of your prouder moments; the yelling and insults were as far as you’d ever want your dislike for Jake to go. Even after how he talked shit behind your back, he still didn’t deserve that happening to him.

You remembered the weight of the compass in your hand, the moment it left your fingers, and then the instant regret as it struck Jake. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

It happened before it was too late.

So was the nature of these things with you, too. Even with your own family. A comment made here, voicing an opinion there. Then, the bitter feeling of wanting to be right and only to be right because that opinion should be recognized as fact.

And after every time, you always left regretting having ever opened your mouth in the first place.

Besides Cora and Grace, nobody seemed to want to talk to you either. Everyone avoided you, and you understood why.

Maybe you did deserve the silent treatment after all. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense, feeling the same feeling you fought to bury in the years after leaving school. You had been too much. Or not enough.

Maybe you were difficult to be around. Maybe it was you, not Jake. Maybe it was your presence that was the burden, more than you had ever realized. Maybe you had no right to feel hurt for what Jake said to that girl about you that night on Halloween.

You sniffed hard, wiping at your eyes.

Maybe I might be the problem after all.

Something covered in plastic landed directly on your lap with a dull thump.

"Tag, you're it."

Speak of the devil, he shall appear. 

You looked down, the compass and the map carefully placed into a clear plastic bag. You didn't bother lifting your head, mocking a two-finger salute against your forehead as you set your eyes back on the flames.

"Thanks, Seresin."

It was wishful thinking on your part to think he'd leave you alone. You fully expected him to after you caught a glimpse of the small welt on his forehead while he was putting up his tent. The visual image made you wince.

Jake didn't move. Rather, he stood over you, staring down as if he was waiting for you to say something else. Looking for an apology, perhaps.

As fucking if. You weren’t going to offer jack shit, not when he thought of you as he did.

"Can I help you?" you huffed, purposely keeping your eyes off him. You knew full well he'd be pissed you weren't giving him your full attention. Maybe deep down, seeing the evidence of your outburst marring his forehead would have been too much for you.

Him seeing you crying would be but another victory he had over you, too.

"You know we have the waterfall on the list tomorrow, right?"

You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You didn't miss a beat when you causally threw out behind a tired smirk, "You plotting to push me off the ledge? Tell everyone I tripped and get rid of me for once and for all?"

"Temping, but no." Jake's response was quick. "I was thinking about us not getting lost. Don't be admiring the scenery too much to pay attention to the map."

Oh. This fucking asshole. No shit, that was for the compass.

"What? The treeline? The mountains? In a National Park? Or are you implying you're the thing I couldn't keep my eyes off?" you scoffed. "You wish, Seresin. I don't spend my time staring at assholes all day. I would rather admire the scenery that's actually worth it."

You could feel the tension radiating off him as he stood next to you. Probably clenching his fists, gritting his teeth. His jaw was clenched, and you could picture his jugular vein pulsing in his neck.

"Why? Admiring the view you're never going to paint?"

You bit your tongue.

Big. Fucking. Ouch. 

But then the realization struck you. He was watching you at lunch today. Why?

"You seem quite invested in what I paint. Care to explain why? Or are cheap shots your new favourite thing? You seem to be doing a lot of that lately."

Jake remained silent, not bothering to answer what seemed like a very legitimate question.

He lets out a tuff of air, crossing his arms across his chest. You can feel the retort coming on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out. It never comes. Instead, he swiftly turns the conversation back to the reason he approached you in the first place. 

You almost wish he didn't. Almost.

"The waterfall, Midge. Bradley's thinking about using it as his chance to purpose." 

You rolled your eyes. "You don't say? I wonder whoever gave him that idea, hmm?" 

"I'm just saying, don't mess it up for them." 

"I'm not going to be the one to mess it up," you argued. "I'm not the one that nearly got us killed today or the one that started shit first thing in the morning." 

Jake huffed, his shoulders dropping hard. "You know what I mean." 

"Do I? Do I really?" you call out sarcastically. "A man, whose every interaction I've had with him since I can remember, always ending up in a fight, is telling me I know what he means. I wonder how you got to that conclusion."

There is a pause.

"It didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm."

"Midge, I didn't mean it like that."

"It doesn't matter. You made your point, Jake. Don't mess it up. I got it."

The bitter sting of his words makes itself known in the quiver of your bottom lip. You shake your head once, finally allowing yourself to look up at him, attempting to pin him with a stare.

"If that's all, Seresin."

Your eyes land on the chair bag slung over his shoulder instead.

"Please tell me you're not thinking about sitting here," you blurt out. 

What does the fucker do but suddenly light up and grin like it's the best idea in the world?

"It's a free country, Midge," he says, letting the chair fall from his shoulder.

"Yeah, no fucking thank you."

You went to stand, clutching the plastic bag to your thighs as your chair rocked slightly under the movement. Jake's voice, sharp and loud, made you stop.

"Come on now, Maeve. You're the one who didn't want to talk unless we were passing off the compass."

The use of your name, not Midge, makes you sit back down.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world to try and actually have a conversation with each other that doesn't have any insults being thrown around? Or objects?"

You grimaced.

Yes, is your immediate answer. Yes, it would be because it’s impossible.

You ignore the mention of the compass and the fact he's guilt-tripping you into staying because of it.

“Seriously? Civil is not even a word I would use to describe us. You bark, I bite.”

Jake dramatically pulled his chair apart, dropping it to the ground with the plastic legs clacking. Plopping himself down into the chair, he puts his feet up on the edge of the pit, crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Oh, so there is an us now? When did that happen?”

That five-second clip of that white cat yacking you’ve seen online comes to mind, and you are pretty sure whatever noise just came out of your mouth resembles that sound.

“Wow, nice one, Midge.”

You shot Jake a withering look. “If I had a dime for every time you’ve made me gag…”

Jake’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead. He licked his lips, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth only to bite down, the corners of his mouth turning up words.

You know right away what he’s thinking.

“Don’t…” you caution.

“Pun intended?” he huffs through a laugh.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the firepit. “Why do men always think with their dicks.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Shut up, Seresin.”

There's a moment of silence between the two of you after that. The sky turned even darker, and the warm, bright light of the firepit seemed to span out to flood the entire campsite. The wood crackled, crickets chirped, and the wind gently rustled the leaves on the trees overhead. You had stopped crying a few minutes ago, more surprised Jake was letting this much time pass between the two of you without saying anything.

You'd dare say you found yourself content, even if he was sitting somewhat next to you.

But when Jake decides to try again, this time on easier ground.

"Bradley's nervous," he said aloud. "Keeps wondering if he picked the right moment to do it. All he does is stare at that damn ring and ask if it’s going to go okay."

You still said nothing. Jake presses on.

"I didn't mean that you were going to mess up tomorrow. I didn't mean what I said about you and a paintbrush, either. I just.. want it to be perfect for them. It needs to be perfect for them. Bradley's done a lot for me. He deserves this going the way he wants."

"You don't think I want the same for Nat?" You suddenly challenged. "She's my best friend. Practically one of my only friends. If I can help make her happy, then you'd be damn sure I'll be doing everything I can to ensure she is."

A ball forms in the back of your throat at the words you just said aloud, wondering why the hell you said that to him, of all people. You do your best to swallow it down, even if you feel like choking.

You clear your throat, digging your nails into the space between your collarbone through your vest. "Bradley, too."

Jake nods to himself. "I remember when he came bursting through our dorm room, raving on about how Nat finally said yes." He smiles to himself. "He couldn't stop grinning until the day of. And then, I think he has a certain smile reserved just for her."

Nat had told you the story. She had only been dating Bradley for about a month when she moved in with you. He had spied her at one of his football games, approaching her afterwards and flirting. Nat kept him guessing, not saying no but not saying yes either.

She wanted to be sure Bradley wanted her for the right reasons, not as a jersey bunny, waiting on the sidelines in case he might decide to 'tap it.'

Even after all these years, the same smile she wore every time she came home from a date or was in Bradley's presence never left her face. The thought of it makes the edges of your mouth turn upwards.

"She has one for Bradley, too," you offer hesitantly, more out loud to yourself. "It's soft like she doesn't realize she's doing it until a small patch of skin crinkles around her eyes."

"Bradley twitches his moustache. The god-awful thing."

You sputter a laugh. "I remember the day he started growing it. What was he thinking?"

"That he wanted to star in a 70s cop show?" Jake remarked, a playful smirk on his face.

You chuckled. "Or a very ambitious caterpillar found a new home and hasn't left for the past two years."

Jake snorted. "I think he lost a bet with someone."

"It's a cry for help."

Jake nodded in agreement before he cocked his eyebrow at you, mischief in his eyes. "You hold him down; I'll shave it off?"

A squeak of laughter escaped through your closed mouth, your body jolting. There was a small smile too, despite your best efforts to hold your reaction back. But you couldn’t help it. Soon, with your eyes slammed shut and dimples forming on your face, your body rocked back and forth with open laughter.

You glanced once, then twice back at Jake, who was fighting his own reaction. He couldn’t resist the pull of it, letting his own laughter join yours. It made you laugh harder. Because it was a sound, you had never heard from him. It was hearty, deep, and it was genuine. Not laced in disdain or condensation.

You laughed harder because Jake Seresin was laughing with you. Not at you. And for the fact, there's a kinder warmth instead of a fire spreading across your chest.

As the laughter subsided, you both paused, a little surprised by the ease of the moment. Caught off guard, your eyes locked on to Jake’s, a soft gaze forming on his face. The one side of your mouth crooked upwards into a one-sided grin.

Maybe I shouldn’t have judged him so harshly for something he said in his youth? Maybe I have a part to play in this game of ours, too? Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought after all?

It didn't last long. Your smile was the one to fade first into a look of discomfort as you saw Jessica and Veronica approach the campfire. Jessica’s smile was wide, but her eyes didn't quite match the warmth of her expression, and like always, Veronica followed a step behind.

A chill shot up your spine, and you hugged yourself tighter, watching Jake look up at the pair with an adoring smile. It is only then you realize the shame you once felt before Jake arrived has returned with full force.

Ah, hello, you fine-flicked bastard.

"Having fun, are we?" Jessica chirped, her gaze flicking between Jake and Midge. "It seems you two have 'made up.'"

You had a pretty good idea of where this was going.

"I never took you for the outdoorsy type, Midge," she offered behind a sadistic grin.

You narrowed your eyes, a knowing smirk on your face.

Karma can be a bitch, and so can I.

“We can’t all be experts in social climbing, Jessica. But then again, I guess it’s hard to pay attention to anyone’s hobbies when you’re only around for the photo ops and the popularity points. The outdoors doesn’t really offer the kind of attention you’re usually after, does it?”

Her smile faltered, winding back into a tight grin. The whites of her knuckles shun as she balled her hand into a fist at her side. It took her a second, but she regained her composure, tossing her hair back and sporting a new sly smile.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of dabbling in things like painting. Unlike some people, I have to adapt. It’s about being relevant and knowing how to appeal to a crowd.” She leaned forward slightly in your direction, voice dripping with faux concern. “Not everyone can seem to grasp that concept.”

Veronica smiled, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Oh, you mean how you jump on every trend?” You unwrap your arm from around your stomach, placing your elbow on the armrest and letting your chin rest on the back of your fingers. “I’ve seen your posts. Tell me something, honestly, do you ever stick with one long enough actually to see it through?”

You raised your eyebrows, expecting her to answer. Her face, even in this light, seemed to blend with the glow of the fire. To your surprise, Jake was even holding back a chuckle.

You can see the imaginary foot stomp she wanted to give from her facial expression alone.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Midge. It’s like you’re always waiting to criticize me and everyone.”

You chuckle softly at the childish display. "If you're going to dish it out, be prepared to get it back. At least Jake understands that fact."

Jessica ignored you, stepping closer to Jake. "Why is she always like this? At least you know how to handle Midge's... let's say, 'artistic temperament.'"

"It's a nice game we have going."

Veronica quickly joined in, "Yeah, not everyone can keep up with her. But you've got a way of handling things. And her."

Oh, I'm going to be sick.

You tried to tune them out, dropping your chin to your chest. The red marker lines you made on the map through the bag seemed more interesting than listening to whatever bullshit those three were spurting.

You should get up. Leave. You didn’t want nor need to hear this. Hear them flirt yet again and fawn over Jake. You didn’t want to hear him reply in kind, either.

That was until Jake’s shout suddenly punched the air.

“Bear!”

Shrieking, you shot out of your chair, trying to turn around to spot the animal. But the action must have been too fast as the chair, never designed for such sudden shifts, as it wobbled, buckled and finally collapsed beneath you. And down you went with a sickenly loud and heavy thud.

"Oh, bless her heart, she fell for that," Veronica snickered through her laughter.

It takes you a second to realize you are on the ground. All you can think about, all you can feel, is the pain shooting up your arm from the base of your wrist. You want to curl into yourself against the dirt and cradle your injured hand to your chest. You want to make yourself as small as possible and blindly hope even if you knew they did, they didn't see you fall.

You just wanted them to leave you alone.

They wouldn't. Not for the right reasons. Even though there is buzzing in your ears, you can hear Jessica's and Veronica's laughter stretch out to the boundaries of the camp. Who wouldn't? Even the crickets and the subtle chirps of birds are no longer letting themselves be heard, probably scared off by the noises they are making. 

Between the two of them and Jake, they probably plotted to scare the shit out of you anyway.

The thought alone urges you to stand, tears unknowingly trailing down your cheeks as you hoist yourself up against the stones of the firepit. Jake was closer to you than he was before, hands swaying slightly like he was fighting the urge to help you.

You felt a wave of nausea as you gingerly tested your wrist, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up your arm with even the smallest movement. You couldn't even move it beyond the slight, bitter flex of your hand.

"Midge, I'm..."

Jake never got to finish his sentence. Jessica's sickly, sweet voice interrupted him. It was anything but - each word oozing out like molasses, but with a sharp, nasal edge that made the same damn shiver go up your spine as before.

“Bless your heart, Midge. You really ought to be more careful. Anything can happen in the woods.”

Veronica nodded in agreement, quickly adding, "If I had that much riding on my hand to make a living for myself, I wouldn't be going anywhere. Especially if your art is as delicate as your balance."

You felt blindsided, wrapping your good arm around your waist as if to shield yourself. More tears bit at the corners of your eyes as the spite of their words hit you, no courageous or witty retort coming to save you. You fought with yourself to make sure they didn't fall. It was a battle you lost almost instantly.

They had no idea what it was truly like. Nor would they. Standing behind Jake on either side, their faces shadowed by the light of the fire. The sight was menacing, and you couldn't help but feel like one of those small cartoon mice trapped in the corner of the room, a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

You couldn't let them, let him, see you like this.

Suddenly, Jake was reaching for you, for your injured wrist. You shied from him, fighting tears as you pulled your arm to your chest. Fighting tears, you willed your shaky legs to carry you away from the campsite.  You were deaf to the shouts of your annoying nickname from Jake's lips and deaf to the words of Jessica and Veronica telling him to give it up and let you go.

Nothing you could have said or could have come up with for some smart-ass quip would have made a difference anyway.

"Maeve, wait!"

Through the blood rushing in your ears, you manage to hear Nat's voice. The sound makes you stop in your tracks, though you don't turn to face her. She's running to you from wherever she had been with Bradley, feet heavy on the dirt behind you. She reaches for the back of your arm, pulling herself around and in front of you.

You didn't look up from the ground, but you did throw your injured wrist behind your back, trying to hide the wince at the snap of pain shooting up your arm.

As she took in your face, wiping a smudge of dirt from your cheek, you could hear Bradley's voice from a distance snapping at Jake.

"What the hell, man! You were supposed to talk to her, not..."

"Are you okay?"

Nat's voice cuts off Bradley's, and you lift your eyes to meet hers.

You finally nodded, trying to keep the pain from your voice. "I'm okay. I'm just a little shaken he'd do something like that."

How much she saw, you didn't know. Nor would you let on, like this morning. The last thing you wanted was something else ruining this trip for her. You didn't want to elaborate either. You just wanted to be alone.

Nat took her teeth between her bottom lip, registering the tears on your face and your shaky breath. "Do you want me to tell him off? Cause I'll do it. I'll throw his ass straight into the firepit."

You shook your head, mumbling under your breath, "I'm just going to turn in for the night."

Her eyes tracked your body anxiously. She wanted to press you further, but she didn't know if she really could. You were already on the run from the others when she approached you, and you didn't even laugh when she mentioned Jake, literally on fire.

That would have made you light up in an instant.

"If that's what you want to do. Just... Just get me or Bradley if you need anything, okay? We're here for you."

You nodded quickly, biting down on the edges of your tongue. Nat's eyes lit up in concern before she mouthed an 'okay' and squeezed your shoulder once before letting you go. You didn't say anything else as you turned on your heel and practically ran from her and everyone else, hoping they would leave you be for the rest of the night.

The second you reached your tent, you dove head-first into the small space, desperately trying to hold in the sob crawling its way up the back of your throat. Reaching for the zipper with your good hand, you pressed your wrist to your chest, the slight contact making you hiss sharply. Your entire arm seemed to shake as you managed to pull the tab down to the ground, and you were surprised the teeth managed to connect with the zipper on each wobbly tug.

The second the tent plunged into darkness, you rocked back, landing hard on your butt and finally allowed those tears and haunting cries to escape.

The first one was muffled, the sound just passing through your clenched teeth and closed mouth. You were trying to stifle the surge of anger and helplessness you felt, unable to do anything but hope there wouldn't be any lasting damage from his little 'joke.'

Holding your hand out, you gripped your pulsing wrist with the other, pressing your forehead into your sleeve. Rocking with the waves of pain, your hand was permanently locked into a claw, trying to flex under the surmounting pain and tendons straining under the throbbing ache.

How dare he?! How dare he pull something like that when he knew there was a chance something could have happened to you? He knows damn well how much your career as a paint rode on your wrist, your entire hand?!

A million thoughts surfaced, fighting against one another in your head.

Years of studying, refining your natural talent as your teachers told you, could be gone just like that. All because Jake couldn't help himself. He just had to rile you up. To piss you off. Because any attempt for him to play nice and to come with the other shoulder being dropped.

He would never listen to you. He would never 'like' you. He made that abundantly clear. And suddenly, you felt stupid for thinking a mere few minutes ago that there was a small sliver of hope Jake was capable of change.

Why you even thought he could, even for a second, you'd never know.

There was a slight rustle of leaves outside, and you lifted your head, biting your lip, a slight jolt of anxiousness and fear running through you. It could have been anything outside your tent: an animal, the wind, another person. But as quickly as you heard it, it was gone, and the following silence stretched on, making you believe whatever you had heard was a trick on your ears.

You turned toward your backpack, single-handedly searching for the tiny first aid box inside. In the darkness of your tent, your fingers finally wrapped around its edges, and you pulled it free from being buried under the rest of your things. Another cry rolled its way up your throat as you pinned the lid with your elbow against the ground, working to free the clasps on the box.

The lid popped free, and you dove for the tensor bandage wedged up in the corner, flicking the metal holders loose and bringing the stretchy material up to your mouth. Setting your teeth into the end of the bandage, you spun it out, then took the end that was in your mouth and wrapped it around the bend of your thumb.

You had seen your brother do it enough times, either to yourself or other people. The Doctor in the family who always seemed eager to showcase his talents, the steps seemed to be permanently etched into your mind without your permission. Bunch it here, pull there, and remember to watch the tendon around your thumb.

You'd no sooner seek out Cora or Mickey to help you out, but you doubted anyone would want to put up with your sorry excuse of an ass after today. Or risk the chance of something else happening.

Besides, even you can't fuck this up, your brother would say each time you hurt yourself as a kid, looking down at you and pulling the bandage with a cocky smile.

He would have done it better. He would have done it right. Nobody would have questioned him about it, either.

But your brother faded from your mind as you painstakingly wrapped your hand, hot tears streaming down your face. Each shout at each twitch and stab of pain only seemed to break down your resolve.

Because the one thought going through your mind was clear as day...

Boundary be gone, Seresin. I'm not holding back any longer.

This. Meant. War.

Are we out of the woods yet? 👀

Tag List:

@desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @fanficfandomlove @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hookslove1592 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @lynnevanss

@dempy@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @keyrani @atarmychick007 @buckysteveloki-me @trickphotography2 @stargazer-88 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @alldaysdreamers @The-dark-and-the-mystery

@formulafun @djs8891 @bookchik15 @wretchedmo @redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @mrsevans90 @wren5650 @eli2447 @bellaireland1981

Taglist Form for those who are interested!

-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 4 - One Way or Another - coming soon!

#horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #SMA #set me alight #top gun au #jake x oc #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #Jake Hangman Seresin #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x reader #Spotify #jake seresin au

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags - Masterlist

📖 Jake Seresin / Hangman

💛Elizabeth "Liz" Beck

❗️18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting of this fic, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials is strictly forbidden without written consent from me. Be a decent human being and don't steal people's work.

🏷️ slow burn, strong language, troubling family dynamics, death of a parent/sibling, godmother reader, inexperienced/mildly insecure reader, mentions of an abusive relationship, physical violence later on (one scene, maybe two), romance, sexual themes/references (I mean smut!).

🎼 playlist

Summary: Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter Sadie. The Dagger Squad go out of their way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheering events at Sadie’s soccer games. Any milestone or opportunity they want to be there. But the last to join the group is Hangman. The moment you met Jake Seresin, your heart screamed the cocky pilot was looking for a good time, not a long time. Deciding to keep him at a distance to protect your heart, Sadie has other ideas when she learns he was purposely left out.

A03 | Wattpad

Masterlist:

Part 1 - Be Still

Part 2 - Hello, I love you

Part 3 - Southern Nights

Part 4 - Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress

Part 5 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Part 6 - Three Little Birds

Part 7 - Oh What A Night

Part 8 - Drift Away

Part 9 - Hang on, Hang On

Part 10 - Let's Dance

Part 11 - Dream On

Part 12 - Blue Healer

Part 13 - Sons and Daughters

Part 13. 5 - Bradley Bradshaw Oneshot - Way Down we Go

Part 14 - Sex on Fire

Part 15 - Have you ever seen the rain?

Part 16 - In the Blood

Part 17 - Come a little bit closer

Part 18 - Sapling

Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget

Part 20 - Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

Part 21 - My Fair Lady

Part 22 - Jump

Part 23 - Sleep Deprivation

Art Work:

BookCover For DTDT's One-Year Anniversary

Moodboards:

Mood Board For Part Four - By @desert-fern

Mood Board for Part Ten - By @teacupsandtopgun

Main Masterlist for all my works

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #Damn those dog tags fic #Horseshoegirl #hangman #hangman x oc #hangman seresin x reader #horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #top gun hangman #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom #hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #top gun fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #callsign lucky #top gun fanfic #hangman fluff #hangman smut #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x you #top gun au

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 8 - Salt and The Sea

📜Everyone has been on a Bob kick lately (I think), so this is coming right when it should! Let's see how Grace and Bob feel about all this. Shall we? 👀

‼️ - +18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Original Female Character (s), Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Bob Floyd x Original Female Character (This is all in their perspective), Angst, mentions of bullying, hurt, overheard fights, preventing a panic attack, frustration, and Grace being sad and done with Bullshit. 

#4.6k

Part 7 | Masterlist | Part 9

Present Day

Sixteen hours.

That's how long Bob's carefully guarded, carefully constructed walls took to crumble after all these years.

There was an inkling the night before as he settled into his tent, a feeling that knocked once or twice from the inside of his chest. It wasn't there when he woke up this morning or during the trek here to the falls.

But the second Grace raced up behind him, everyone watching Veronica climb out of the water, that feeling returned. It seemed no longer content to sit around and wait for Bob to figure out why it had. 

Grace grasped his hand, pulling herself to hide behind his body so she could stifle her giggles into the back of his shoulder. Bob couldn't help the few snorts that shook through his body either. However, he pitied Javy, watching as he tried to console his girlfriend, who was stomping her foot like a three-year-old child over the fact that her makeup had been ruined.

The both of them couldn't say it wasn't an unwelcome sight. They knew what you had done, catching you hooking something onto the loop of Veronica's jeans, knowing it was damn well meant for Jake. Though the pair knew better than to act on it, they imagined themselves holding up a fist to the air, like in the Breakfast Club, silently praising the act of Karma on your behalf.

Maybe even quietly counting tallies next to your name in Bob's traveller's journal.

You needed a win. A big win against one of those two. They weren't going to say shit about it. They only wished, deep down, they could have helped.

But when Bradley took you by the arm, leading you way, another knock, this time harder, thumped in his chest. Another followed it. And another, until that feeling morphed into what Bob could only describe as a white-hot pain, burning every nerve in the pit of his stomach.

Bob knew what was about to happen.

While there hadn't been much to discuss, Bradley had pulled all the guys together after you went to bed last night to discuss his proposal. Standing in that circle, Bob realized it had been more of a pep talk than anything else.

Everyone already had a predetermined role—some part to play in helping Nat get to the right spot. Bob and Grace merely had to act surprised, with the rest of the group save Jake, you, and Rueben, when they eventually emerged from the bush, a shiny new ring hopefully on her finger.

It was a horrible plan, he had thought then. He knew—more so than most—that involving Jake and you in such an event would only result in disaster. He even had said as much to Grace when he turned in for the night, climbing into their shared tent.

Grace merely highlighted Nat's inconsiderate behaviour regarding your feelings, turning her back to him as she settled into her sleeping bag. The action was so absolute, so final, they said nothing else about it the rest of the night.

But laying awake, staring at Grace's back, Bob couldn't help but think about it. Grace was right. With all the shit Jake and you threw at each other since the moment you two met, Nat would have to be completely stupid not to realize just how fucked up it was not to tell you Jake would be coming on this trip.

It wasn't the first time Grace brought it up, either. Bob knew how his girlfriend felt about Nat, you, the entire group, their inability to stand up for you, and their failure to separate themselves from Nat.

He'd be lying if he hadn't felt the same at one point or another.

But Bob knew why everyone didn't, why he didn't, and why, even to some extent, Jake didn't either, even if he was more verbal about it than anyone else.

From behind the scenes, everyone tried to protect you and themselves from a fallout with Natasha. Not the fallout itself but the aftermath. At that point, he had rolled on his back, trying to figure it all out from the safety and privacy of his tent.

But who was he kidding? There was nothing to figure out.

Nat's scandal was an anvil, and her history and behaviour were hanging over every person in the group by a single thread. Even in the years since it happened, since they had all left school and Grace and Cora joined the group, it still had everyone in a chokehold.

And you were oblivious to it all.

Bob wasn't sure when it happened, but it became an unspoken agreement to protect you from that truth. So they were burying it to keep the peace—at least, everyone but Bradley. Bob couldn't say what was happening inside his friend's head, nor would he ask him.

But nobody would go out of their way to upset the group's 'supposed' hierarchy—not when real friendships and relationships, whether made with Nat's influence or not, were at stake.

You had to deal with the brunt of it, and Bob would regret it every day for the rest of his life.

No kind words or assurances could help the cluster of nerves swimming in Bob's stomach when Grace hooked her arm through his. Leading him to a section of the pond free from tourists, she wanted to avoid the temper tantrum Javy and Rueben, to an extent, would have to deal with. Seeing fish in the water earlier and knowing Bob would get a kick out of trying to identify them, she welcomed the distraction.

But as the pair searched through their books to match the first fish they saw, the first shout vibrated through the air, and Bob felt like he was going to hurl.

There was no mistaking it for what it was. Nat was, for lack of a better word, shitting on you and Jake. It was loud. It was scary. And no matter where anyone went, it was impossible to block out the noise.

They stood there, staring down at the words and diagrams in their books, no longer interested in the fish, scared any movement or action would have them on a chopping block. Though her eyes blurred, Grace was sure there were no more fish to look at anyway, for they, too, would have felt the noise vibrate against the water and would have been scared away.

At least they felt like they were able to.

When it finally fell silent, Grace nervously reached for Bob's hand. She led them away from the water through a tiny gap in the bush, deep into the forest. She didn't dare stop, walking blindly for minutes until she saw a little nook encased by a massive tree.

Its branches hung low, as did those of the surrounding trees. Each covered the space in a vibrant green shade, offering a safe place from the events leading up to this moment. A giant, thick tree root rested above the ground, and Grace pulled Bob down as she sat upon it.

Neither one spoke, nervous to say anything. Birds, the wind and bugs filled this space instead. It could have been hours, though Grace started to play with Bob's fingers only minutes later. He let her slide her fingertips over his skin and grasp around each finger until she smoothly threaded each together. Over and over, she did this, never once altering her pattern or rhythm.

Grace was trying to ground herself. And for Bob, it made everything that much worse.

It had been sixteen hours to the dot since that first knock in his chest. And while Bob had admitted last night and perhaps now that the trip, the excuses, the group dynamic, Nat's behaviour—was hopelessly warped—the truth was he had known for days, months, maybe even years.

He'd simply shoved it all deep down under lock and key, partly for selfish reasons. Sixteen hours was merely all the time it took for that lock to break and for everything to come rushing back to the surface. Because while the person he loved was hurting on behalf of someone else, it was too silent in this forest, even at this distance. 

It was the lack of you and Jake tearing each other apart.

"I think something happened to Jake and Maeve," Bob said in a rough voice, finally finding the courage to speak.

Grace's hands froze, not moving an inch. She lifted her head, eyebrows knitting together. Bob didn't meet her gaze, too nervous to look away from their joined hands.

"It's too quiet," he offered softly. "Especially after that."

Grace also dropped her eyes to their hands, biting the inside of her cheek hard. "She'd be tearing into him right now. Forget Nat. Maeve would clear out the whole damn park with a single shout."

Bob nodded absentmindedly, turning his hand to mock Grace's earlier pattern, a silent gesture to let her know he had been paying attention.

"Or she'd be running off to apologize to Nat, and Jake would be seeking us out, tail between his legs."

"Nat should be the one apologizing to her."

Grace's statement was so blunt and sharp that Bob feathered his jaw. And something in that quick movement made a thread in Grace's gentle heart snap.

She tore her hand from Bob's grip and shuffled away from him further down the log. She swallowed hard, refusing to turn back and look at him as she fiddled with a ring on her finger. When Bob went to follow, naturally reaching for her like it was second nature, she shuffled again.

"No," she mumbled lowly, shying away from his touch. Bob frowned, sliding closer once again, softly calling her name. But Grace only pushed herself up from the log, her fists balled and clenched tight. "No!"

She stomped forward a few steps, not wanting to leave the found safety of their little nook. Threading her fingers through her hair, she paced back and forth, trying to count her breath.

"Grace..."

She spun wildly, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing into a thin line, and her jaw clenching. "Don't 'Grace' me," she gritted out behind her teeth.

Bob dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand, his elbow digging hard into his knee. "Don't..."

"Don't what, exactly?" she seethed. "Don't talk about 'it'?

Bob dug his nails into the denim of his jeans - enough to feel a pinch through the fabric on his thigh.

The laugh Grace let out was bitter, morphing into a harsh shout. "Come on, Bob! Cora and I might have been the last ones to join whatever fucked up friend group this is, but Nat couldn't give two shits about Maeve! And it's this unspoken thing nobody talks about. Why?!"

"Grace..."

"Don't!" she snapped, stomping her foot, making clumps of dirt fly out in all directions. "I don't care about some fucked up unspoken agreement! I care about Maeve! Don't tell me you don't, Robert?!"

Bob finally lifted his head, though he focused on the way they came, not once meeting his girlfriend's angry stare.

"Bob, so help me... If you say no..."

"You know I do!" he rushed out, shaking his head.

"Then why don't you fucking say something?!" she cried out. "Why doesn't anyone say something?! She's suffering, and nobody does anything!"

She didn't even know she was crying hot, angry tears until she felt one fall off her cheek, a slight cool breeze marking a path on her skin.

"I wanted to. I wanted to, so badly, the first time I noticed it. And you told me not to."

Bob did, and he always wondered if Grace resented him for it.

She sighed, wiping the tears from her face. She paced back and forth a little bit, trying to calm herself down. Because Bob didn't deserve her anger, it was unfair of her to even yell at him in the first place.

Instead, she walked up to the tree, pressing her forehead into the bark, once again trying to count her inhales and exhales.

"When Bradley told me about Nat when he was going to school, I thought she was just a phase. Whenever he called to talk to Dad, I just sat back and wondered. I wondered how long it would take and what the reason behind the break between those two would be."

Grace lifted her head, fixing her eyes on a ladybug climbing the trunk. "You could imagine my surprise when he brought her home for spring break."

She placed her hand on the wood, twisting back to look at her boyfriend. "I never told you this, but I didn't like her the second I met her."

Bob lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Why..?"

"Because she thought I was a threat. That I harboured a crush on Bradley, and I would steal him from her," she shrugged.

Bob's eyes shot up his skull. "... I mean, you two grew up together... did you... ever?"

Grace audibly gagged, adding a few choking noises for a dramatic effect. "He's like my brother, Bob. What the hell?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I had to ask."

Grace didn't address the remark when she continued, "She treated me horribly that entire week. She sweet-talked my dad and only was nice to me when he was around. Thank God he saw right through her. The second he left, he said that Carole, Bradley's mom, wouldn't have approved. I agreed."

With a narrowed forehead, Bob's mouth gaped open, bobbing like a fish. "Wait... then why did she..."

"Why did she suddenly start inviting me to stuff? It's cause I was dating you. I was no longer a threat. And she acted like she had never done what she did in the first place."

While Bob might have met Grace through work, he was surprised to learn she had grown up with Bradley. How she acted around Bradley, bore no resemblance to a long-lasting, familiar childhood friendship. However, the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense—her closed-off and quiet nature when she was around them.

That the first time they saw each other again, all Bradley could manage was a slight nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Grace only offered causally, "You'd be surprised at all the stuff that doesn't require your input. Sometimes you gotta leave people to do the lame shit they do and watch them fuck it up on their own." 

A ball formed in her throat. "But Maeve... when I met Maeve and saw what was happening, my heart broke. And she is the only exception to what I just said."

Bob knew what was coming next. Like a coward, he braced himself hard.

"You told me not to say anything when I first brought it up. But now? I can't keep doing it. Not after what she just did to them. Not after that."

"Grace... Don't..."

"Maeve is drowning, Bob! Drowning!" she shouted angrily, startling a nearby bird on a branch. "And I can't stand it any longer. We need to find her, grab her, and take her home. Take her away from all this. From Nat, from those two bitches... God, if they gaslight anything else, they could practically set the whole fucking forest on fire."

"You don't believe in swearing, Grace," he deadpanned.

"Maybe I do now!" she cried. "I feel guilty. Guilty Bob! Cause I bit my lip like a good girl when Nat just what? Uses her? Ignores her? Disregard her feelings? Like hell, why didn't she try harder to figure the fuck out why Jake and Meave are at each other's throats?! Or how those two bully the fuck out of her?"

"Maeve wouldn't tell us about Jake when we asked."

"And you don't find it strange she wouldn't?" she challenged him. "Out of everyone in the group, she didn't tell a soul. Why? Why didn't she? Why wouldn't she?!"

Grace's heart was hurting, and she knew Bob truly knew why. He had been around them longer than she had, so there must have been a reason he told her not to. There had to be.

"At first, I thought it was something everyone accepted, you know? That everyone was trying to figure out what had happened between her and Jake. I thought tensions were high because of that.

She blew out a shaky breath, Bob not once interrupting her.

"Maybe it was a fucking game they were playing with each other until they finally worked up the courage to admit they like each other enough to get into each other's pants. Cause whatever the cause, Maeve wouldn't be so goddamn hurt if she didn't care!"

Bob closed his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping his mouth. 

"But last to join the group, right? You have to be quiet. Read the room. Get a sense of how to act and what you can say. Cause learning to fit in with new people, you have to pick up these things. The best way to get along with everyone else. Like how Maeve runs the second Jake walks into the room? How she avoids conversations about him if she can help it?"

Grace blew a raspberry out of pure frustration. "Jake was never the real issue, though. Everyone just made it out to be. Everyone should have noticed how Maeve bit her tongue as Nat walked over her opinions. How Nat derails conversations, not just where Maeve is concerned, but practically with everyone to make it about her."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "She got the brunt of all of it, and we just... watched."

Grace finally approached Bob, standing before him, though he didn't lift his head from where it hung low on his shoulders. Had he chosen to look up, he would have noticed how the sun finally peeked through the leaves, beams of light breaking the shade, leaving Grace in their spotlight. 

"I meant, she invites us all on this trip so we can watch her get proposed to? And she doesn't bother to tell her that Jake is coming along, too? I mean... how selfish can she get?!"

"Grace, this isn't going to solve..."

"WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!" she yelled, throwing her hands at the sky. "That ship left the fucking dock ages ago."

Bob's eyes fixed on a leaf stuck under a fallen branch at her words. Grace knew from that reaction alone that she had resonated with something within his kind, caring soul.

"I just... can't... I can't anymore, Bob. If I'm the first to take the leap and break up this group, then good fucking riddance. It needs to be done so we all can get some peace."

She slid to her knees in the dirt in front of him, her hands resting firmly on the sides of his thighs.

"How many years have Nat and Maeve known each other, and not once did Nat realize how hard her supposed best friend had been falling? How could she not recognize that, Bob? And how could she continue to force Jake and Maeve together when Maeve just wanted to escape?"

She reached forward to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet hers. While silent rage resonated within them, Bob knew it wasn't meant for him.

"Why did you tell me to be quiet that first time I brought this up? Why do you still tell me, too?"

Bob gulped, forcing his eyes away. Grace stroked her thumb under his eye, encouraging him on. "I don't know what happened, baby, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and rainbows when we return to the group. Not this time. Just tell me, please."

Bob blew out a shakey breath and shook his head. "Because I wanted you to stay."

"Stay?"

He had contemplated all the reasons, stacking them up brick by brick last night, refusing to acknowledge the leverage Natasha could have used against him. But Bob had damned himself with that one word.

Stay—He wanted Grace to stay. Because if he brought this up, if he told her, there was a chance she wouldn't—at least, there was a possibility.

He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes.

Nat's so-called leverage was kneeling in front of him, begging him to tell her the truth. Her eyes were desperate, so much so that Bob knew he was possibly damned if he did and undoubtedly damned if he did not. Grace had chosen her path, and he would steadfastly follow her wherever she decided to go. 

There was no ever questioning that.

Bob reached for her sides, pulling Grace close between his spread legs. She let him, hands landing softly on his biceps before they slid down to his forearms. Bob traded his grip on her jacket to hold her hands, only to trace the same pattern she had a few minutes before.

He braced himself and took several sharp breaths before asking, "Did anyone ever tell you about Natasha's so-called scandal? Back in school?"

Grace cocked an eyebrow. "Only what Maeve's told me. Bradley and I weren't on speaking terms, and he'd never tell Dad if she had one. Though, Maeve didn't even know the complete story."

She let Bob turn her hand over and trace the lines on the palm of her hand. "But she shut me down hard after that. Saying Nat worked to put it behind her and move on, so we all should, too."

Bob scoffed. "Always protecting her."

"Bob?"

Bob hesitated, his gaze flickering away from Grace's expectant eyes. He swallowed hard, the reluctance clear in his tight jaw. Then he closed his eyes, leaning over to whisper in her ear, his voice cautious but a whisper.

Grace's eyes widened, and a gasp slipped through her parted lips at his words. She could hardly breathe as he told her the story. And when he was finished, she tilted so far back on her heels in shock that she almost fell onto her butt.

"Bob! What the hell? After everything I just told you?!"

Bob still hadn't opened his eyes, his head hung low in shame.

"I would have never left you over that! Over complete and utter bullshit? Who do you think I'd believe more? Her or my boyfriend?"

"I didn't know. I didn't want to risk losing you."

"You listen here, Bob Floyd," Grace urged, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her. "I'm in a relationship with you. I love you. I would have never believed her if she had done that to us."

He kissed the inside of Grace's wrist, a deep weight lifting off his chest.

"God, I want to throttle her."

"I think that's why everyone doesn't call her out. Cause they don't want it to happen to them. Or at least, deep down, I never did 'cause I didn't want Maeve or Bradley to be alone with..."

Grace nodded, letting Bob know he did not need to continue explaining.

"We should try to find her, Bob. Let her know we love her and that we'd follow her. I have no idea if anyone else would besides Mickey and Cora. Hell, I'd even offer to leave with her and get drunk on her Aunt's apple cider 'cause this whole damn trip was a bad idea."

Bob huffed a sad laugh. "It is apple picking season. I bet she'd love it if we went with her."

Grace snorted. "You just want free apples so I can make my apple crisp."

With the tension from before gone and the weight of Bob's chest finally disappearing with his confession, he joked comedically, "Ssshh, don't jinx it."

Grace rolled her eyes, letting the moment pass before offering quietly, "Where do you think she is? Maeve?"

Bob regarded her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Considering the lack of voices, Maeve's probably tried to separate herself. Or she made a rash decision and decided to leave alone."

Grace gasped. "What about Jake?"

"Jake ... I bet 50 bucks Jake ran after her regardless."

Her face contorted into one of disgust. "What? Why? Can he not leave her alone for once in his life?"

Bob stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, before extending a hand to Grace. She took it without another word and allowed him to guide her up and off the tree. He revealed yet another truth as he helped her step over the massive root.

"Remember when I went with Bradley and Jake before Maeve hurt her wrist? Jake wanted to show us a fishing spot...?"

Grace winced. When Bob told her what happened, she instantly regretted not being out there with you. Hold up in her tent, she had been working on plans for a museum exhibit. Even if she had to do a little work, she could have at least done it in the company of a friend.

"I found out Bradley's been trying to coach Jake into mending things with Maeve. We might have been giving him some... advice."

Grace froze with her two feet atop the curved piece of wood.

"What!!?" she shrieked, making Bob wince. "Please tell me you weren't the one who encouraged him to keep up the prank thing. Bob, if you told him to scream 'there's a Bear..'."

"It wasn't me! Nor was it Bradley! We just told him to try to talk to her without anyone around. Cause things seem to go to shit when everyone else is there. He just needed to incite her to stay. Make her laugh. Talk to her like a human being!"

"Men," she scoffed, jumping down off the root. "Never go to a group of idiots to do a woman's job."

Bob froze, eyeing her carefully. "Are you calling me an idiot?"

Grace smiled, reaching up to stroke across his cheek. She kissed his lips with a quick peck and leaned back. "Hmm... my idiot, though."

She took several steps back towards the falls when she called out over her shoulder to a befuddled Bob. "You realize if we locked them in a room or trapped them in an elevator, with nobody else around, they'd probably figure it out?"

"How so?" he called back, finally following her.

"Jake obviously wants to fix it. Maeve runs. All you need to do is stop her from running. She'll give in if you provoke her enough, which Jake already does."

Bob paused, reflecting for a moment. "He doesn't think when it comes to her, does he?"

"Does she?"

When they emerged from the bush, Bob and Grace ran to the first person they saw, hoping at least someone saw either you or Jake. Nobody had. Not until a few minutes later did a couple mention seeing someone bearing your resemblance climbing the waterfall. They also mentioned seeing someone who looked like Nat go up, but she had already come back down.

Grace stared at them in horror. "I'll go get Mickey and Cora," she rushed out quickly, leaving Bob alone to start the trek up the rocky slope. As he did, a million thoughts crossed his mind.

Finding you and Jake tearing each other apart, hoping Mickey and Cora's skills weren't needed. Or the more stupidly optimistic thought - either of you was trying to find a few moments of peace.

As if.

Or perhaps it was none of those things. Maybe what awaited him above was something far worse than he could ever fathom.

But when he reached the top of the falls, neither you nor Jake were there, and Bob didn't spare the effort to take in the view. Instead, he searched the ground, kneeling when he spied several tracks in the mud.

Two sets, both inherently female, were marked along the river bank in the mud. Bob's eyes followed them until he saw a separate path of them walking back. Then he noticed another pair of tracks, the boot tread clearly belonging to a man. They followed one of the other tracks, veering quickly off into the bushes. They were noticeably disturbed, leaves and branches bent unnaturally, and the longer he followed the underbrush and mud, the more he understood what happened to the two of you.

Bob set off, knowing just exactly where he needed to go.

Can I just say I love Bob and Grace?

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[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 4: One Way Or Another

📜Midge... Don't....Don't... Ugh, never mind. She's going to do it anyway.

I had to split the chapter again! I didn't want to overwhelm the word count, so the banner I posted before will be used for the next one! Which will be posted within the next few days!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, description of injury (A bruised wrist), camping, and pranks.

#4.4k

Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

The first rays of sunlight shining through the canvas of your tent are what stir you awake the following morning.

It’s a struggle to open your eyes with the aftermath of how much you cried yourself to sleep last night. The skin under your eyes and your eyelids simply ache, and you want to sink yourself down into the ground, never to be seen nor heard from again.

However, each gentle breeze caressing the side of your tent and each chirp of a nearby bird is slowly coaxing you out of your sleep. It seems peaceful, serene even. Like all was right in the world.

Then the first sharp throb of your wrist pulsed up your arm, and you were dragged back to the harsh reality of what was this fucking mistake of a trip.

Right. The fall. Your wrist. The two she-devils.

Seresin.

You can’t help but cringe as you cradle your wrist to your chest, willing each aching pulse to fuck off and go away. There was no way you’d be able to paint today or tomorrow. Maybe even the rest of the week. The realization stung so sharply you wanted to cry - you'd miss out on all the prime spots, the best angles and outlooks, even the waterfall today, all because the fucking asshole decided to scream, “Look out, there’s a bear!”

If there were ever a time for you to swear at the universe for the cruel joke it was playing on you, taking away your only solace and leaving you with nothing but anger, frustration and one Jake Seresin to put up with, you'd find the tallest mountain in the park and scream, "Go to hell."

You opened your eyes to the thought, staring at the corner of the roof of your tent. While you might not be able to hold a paintbrush, there were other things you could do to pass the time.

Eagerly sitting up and sliding your legs out of your sleeping bag, you reached for your clothes and quickly got changed, hoping no one else was up. If you had any chance at getting back at Jake for your predicament, you couldn't be seen doing it.

It had to be a prank. Something classy and of the same calibre he started, but enough to drive home the fact two could play at this game. And that you wouldn't resort to his level by injuring him - not that you could.

To your surprise, when you finally opened your tent, hoping to take in the morning air, you were treated to the sight of the map in its clear plastic bag and the silver compass placed directly on top, sitting on the ground in front of you. You had forgotten them completely last night in your haste to escape the chaos and embarrassment, and for a moment, you stood there, wondering who had done such a thing.

It was a small act of kindness, one that quieted your anger towards Jake for a moment.

Your mind raced through every person who could have done such a thing - Nat with her concern from last night. Bob's quiet kindness, perhaps Grace or Cora, both of whom had shown moments of empathy and understanding. Even Maybe Mickey, or Javy or Rueben, to make up for their girlfriend's behaviour.

The thought that it might have been Jake briefly flickered through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. He sought out every opportunity to tease, provoke, and hurl insults at you when he could, and you felt stupid for even entertaining such a thought.

With a mixture of curiosity and gratitude, you made a mental note to find out who was responsible and thank them for the kind gesture.

Lifting your head, you took in a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling your lungs and the earthy scent of the woods filling your nose. Light filtered through the trees, and their leaves seemed to rustle with the breeze. Along with the birds, you could have sworn you heard a squirrel or chipmunk, too.

Something had to be wrong. The campsite was too quiet.

Unlike yesterday, when Jake woke everyone up with his crazy-ass antics, everyone was still content to be tucked safely into their sleeping bags. You looked around, half expecting to see him lurking about somewhere or about to stir up trouble.

While his tent had been left open, he was nowhere to be found.

The metaphorical light bulb went off above your head with the realization you had your chance to set up and cause some shit without ruining it for anyone else.

The smile that crossed your face at that thought alone could have rivalled even that of the Jokers.

Approaching the firepit, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind, you noticed Jake had already taken down the food cooler from the nearby tree. It sat next to the little stone monument, waiting for Bradley or Nat to start handing out everyone's food packs.

You checked over your shoulder once, then twice to see if the coast was clear, before kneeling down and carefully flipping open the lid. You searched each one until you came across Jake's and your own, pulling them out and placing them side by side.

The little bottle of sugar Jake had brought with him for his coffee was at the top of the bag. You smirked in glee, knowing Jake would have no idea you messed with his bag, given its easy position. The man was so anal about things, his hair, his outfits, he'd notice if it had somehow fallen to the bottom of his bag.

Then, you found what you wanted out of yours.

Your container of salt.

It was the only thing you could think of right now. Fuck with his coffee, or at least something that he could put into his coffee. It was cheap. It was harmless. Probably even childish. But considering he actively went out of his way yesterday to prevent you from having yours, this was fair game.

Grabbing a spare container from your bag, you quickly unscrewed the lid, pouring Jake's sugar out into the safety of the container before reaching for the salt. You worked as fast as you could with your injured hand, grimacing as you tried to prevent any grains from spilling over as you refilled Jake's bottle.

After pouring his sugar into your own bottle, you quickly tidied up, making sure there was no evidence of your impromptu switch. You stood up, wondering what else you could do with the time you had or if something as simple as that would be enough, at least for today.

But the sight of Jake's tent, left wide and open, was another opportunity you had to take advantage of... Right?

It wasn't like Jake to leave his tent open. It either meant he intended to come back right away, or he forgot he had even left it open. You looked to the trailhead, then to the general direction of the area the group had chosen as 'the bathroom.' Jake still hadn't made his grand appearance.

"You shouldn't,' the angel on your shoulder screamed.

"Do it," the devil on the other murmured.

Your feet carried you forward, and you hesitantly approached his tent as if you were about to be arrested for murder. Resting at the entrance was his fishing bag, and you kneeled, undoing the zipper just enough to peer inside.

There was a tackle box full of hooks, lures, and other small items—a couple of bobbers and sinkers, snap connectors and an extra fish gripper. There was a knife and even a roll of fishing line; you gave into the urge to pull them out the second you saw them.

The lack of his fishing rod indicated he had definitely gone off and found a body of water or pond to go and attempt to catch something. It made you anxious, knowing you were working on borrowed time. Without really thinking, you unsheathed the knife from its case, letting out a painful yelp, only to spin out some of the wire and cut a sizeable length of it against the ground.

What for? You had no idea. But you had time to think about that later. The possibilities of what you could do with something like a piece of wire out here in the wilderness were endless.

Your heart rate spiked when you heard voices coming from one of the tents, and you quickly tried to put everything back where you found it. You shoved the wire into your back pocket and accidentally popped open the tackle box as you jammed the knife back inside.

Your hand screamed at you, already pushed to its max, as you scrambled to carefully pick up the fallen hooks from within Jake's bag, already knowing you probably missed a couple. One caught on your bandage, and you didn't bother removing it as you snapped the lid shut and zipped up his bag.

Racing back to your tent, the zipper of Bob and Grace's tent was being pulled up. You skidded to a stop and kneeled next to the map, swearing softly to yourself as you grabbed the stowe-away hook and shoved it into the front pocket of your pants.

You could only hope Bob thought you were getting up and emerging from your tent for the first time this morning.

Bob stepped out, having seen nothing of your hasty retreat back to your tent, and offered you a soft "good morning' accompanied by a smile.

"Morning, Bob," you greeted him with a smile of your own, trying to calm your breathing. "Do you know who did this? I want to thank them."

Bob looked down to where you were pointing and shook his head. "Sorry, Maeve. I didn't see who. It was there when Grace and I went to bed last night, though."

Not Bob. Or Grace. Hmm.

With nothing else better to do, you offered to help Bob start the campfire while Grace got ready. You arranged the kindling and small logs as Bob gathered some of the bigger ones Bradley had cut the day before. It was a few minutes before the two of you got a decent-sized setup, and in that time, Grace had joined you two, promising to get to the coffee first so you'd have a cup before venturing out for the day. 

You always thought her name suited her - literally always a saving grace. 

You held up one of the sticks as you were breaking up a few to add to the pile, twirling it as you inspected the top. "This would make for a good Marshmellow stick."

Bob dropped the log he'd picked up into the pit before settling himself down next to you. He reached out and took the stick from your hand, playing with the top of it like you would messing around with the sharp edge of a knife.

"This one?" Bob said, examining the stick closely. "Nah, it's too flimsy. It'd catch fire before you got that perfect char." 

You quickly catch on to his meaning, and you gasped at him in horror. "Bobby, No.. that's just...a Marshmellow shouldn't be crunchy."

"I've always made them like that!" he exclaimed in protest.

"That is so wrong, so so wrong!" you cried out. Grace makes a gagging noise in agreement with you. "The burnt part is carcinogenic, Bob. Listen to Maeve," she tried to encourage him. 

"You can always take the burnt stuff off," he pouts. 

"That's not the point of a Marshmellow on a stick. You want them crispy, not fired to hell."

"Is that where you make yours?"

You turn your head towards him, shocked. Then, a bout of soft giggles racks your body as Bob starts to sport a grin. "Damn, you woke up snarky this morning."

"It's not my fault you two like eating fluffy clouds and chalk dust," he joked, knocking your shoulder playfully. You and Grace share a look and continue to giggle, shaking your heads.

It took a little bit for Bob and you to get the flames to catch. But eventually, after some poking, prodding and waving, the flames erupted and grew steadily, crackling happily.

You stood to high-five Bob, celebrating after your struggle. But just over Bob's shoulder, you see Jake walking down the path, fishing rod in hand, and it quiets you instantly. His gait was easy, and he appeared lost in his thoughts, watching each of the steps he took. He seemed tired, with bags under his eyes and his face weary.

You missed the way Grace and Bob shared a look at one another.

Once he reached the edge of the camp, Jake lifted his head, his eyes immediately meeting yours. You want to glance away, but you can't bring yourself to. There's a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you - curiosity, irritation, maybe something else you can't quite put your finger on.

Jake holds your gaze for all but two seconds before it's travelling down to the bandage on your wrist. He knits his brow, and a pained expression strikes his face. It's enough for you to instinctively tuck your arm behind your back and drop your chin to your chest in embarrassment.

Grace calls out that the coffee is ready, and you twist, reaching for the cup she's holding out to you. You grab it eagerly, offering a quiet 'thank you' and bringing it up to rest just before your nose, taking a deep breath.

The smell seems to calm you down but does nothing for the image of Jake's reaction to your wrist playing in your head.

Was that guilt you saw? Or lack of sleep? Did he lose sleep over it? Over what happened last night? He did try to call for you. But why? Why? The idea that Jake might actually feel remorse was unsettling, challenging even.

Despite yourself, you glanced back over your shoulder. Jake was already gone, off to greet Mickey good morning with a hug and slap on the back, and you felt ashamed for even having looked.

'No, it couldn't be,' you mused to yourself, 'Jake's not the type to feel guilty.'

You smiled into the rim of your coffee for a moment, thinking about what he might do or react when he tasted your salty surprise.

"What are you smiling about?"

You jumped as Mickey bumped your shoulder with his. "It's too quiet for the two of you this morning."

You shrugged, trying to suppress your grin. "Maybe he's feeling guilty for yesterday. I don't purposely start shit with him, Mickey. You know that."

Mickey didn't answer you. Rather, he reached for your hand, carefully lifting it up so he could inspect your wrist. "Can I take a look at it, Maeve? Please? I promise to be gentle."

You sighed. "I know, I did a shit job of wrapping it last night."

Mickey shook his head. "I only want to make sure there isn't any permanent damage."

You paused for a second before nodding. You let Mickey guide you over to his chair, allowing him to help you sit with a gentle hand on your elbow. He kneeled in front of you, placing your arm on your lap as he worked on undoing your bandage.

"How's the pain?" he asked as he started to unwrap it.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it did last night, though it's throbbing a bit."

"That's probably some swelling," he offered, not unkindly. Mickey made sure you kept your eyes on him as he unveiled the damage, hoping to provide you with some reassurance. You appreciated it, knowing you'd jump to conclusions before knowing how bad it truly was.

He had already unwrapped your arm when he lifted his head, about to ask you if you were ready to see the damage on your wrist, when his eyes tracked some movement behind you. The corner of his mouth wobbled, and he shook his head, immediately setting his back on to you. You went to look, hoping to change whatever caused him to frown when a quip from the other side of the campsite stopped you.

"Need someone to kiss your boo'-boos, Midge?"

Oh, that bitch!

Mickey stopped what he was doing in favour of placing a hand on your thigh, preventing you from leaping up out of your chair. You tense at the touch, and you are sure it's the only thing holding you back. But you wouldn't be you if you didn't offer some type of snarky reply in kind.

It was there, ready to be unleashed. That was until you heard Jake's voice boom from somewhere behind you, the man stepping forward as if he were on a mission.

"Oh, would you give it a fucking rest, Jessica? Unless you're a certified medic now," he points to Mickey, "I doubt your expertise extends to anything beyond Instagram filters and badly photoshopped pictures."

What. The. Fuck.

Your mouth drops. Your face flushes. And you can't help but stare up at Jake as he confronts them - On your behalf. There's even collective 'oohs' filling the camp, and Bradley's rapidly looking back and forth between you, Jake, and Jessica, wondering what the hell happened to warrant such a reaction.

It's the first time you've ever heard Jake speak to Jessica like that, let alone defend you. Are you not sure how you're supposed to feel about the response? Grateful? Happy? Appreciative? Angry he felt the need to defend you?

Why the hell did he defend you?

"She got hurt last night," he points out sharply. "So I don't understand what your point is in saying that. And honestly, it's just getting old and, frankly, pathetic."

Jessica's eyes widen and her face starts to turn red, her rounded cheeks almost looking like cherries. She jolted back, recoiling as if he had dealt her an invisible blow, and her gaze briefly darts to Rueben, then back to Jake.

Conflict is written all over her face.

"Come on, Jake, she didn't mean it like that?" Veronica counters, stepping forward to slide her arm under Jessica's in support.

And in a surprising turn of events, Jake starts to laugh. Mockingly.

To them.

"How does she mean it then?" he turns to Veronica, sarcasm laced into his tone. "What's the point? A Joke? Scarastic comment?"

Jake's face suddenly lights up, a look you are all too familiar with when going head-to-head against him. You cannot help but chant inside your head, Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

"Maybe throwing a peace sign up at the end of it as you do in your photos would have helped, but I can't say that's what I would have done when someone has been hurt."

You could swear your heart was beating out of your chest. This didn't make sense.

"Come on, Man, that's not right. Anyone who knows her should know she's not like that." It's Ruben, this time, standing up for his girlfriend, though you can detect a bit of nerves in his tone. 

And Jake sneers. Sneers! "Some shakey moral high ground, if you ask me."

"Dude..."

Jake shakes his head, grabbing Rueben by the elbow and pulling him close. He whispers something into his ear, and Rueben's eyes widen. It makes you grip the armrest tighter, maybe in some mediocre attempt to assure yourself you didn't fall down a hole instead of your tent last night and wake up in an alternate dimension.

"It's just badly bruised. Nothing's broken, and the tendon is fine. I would try to keep it wrapped, though."

Mickey prodded at your bruise, and you hissed from the pain, immediately drawing your eyes away from the interaction, finally taking in the damage done to your wrist.

It's ugly, to say the least. It's somewhat ironic that you are already comparing it to smudges on a painter's palette rather than something real and painful marking your own body.

The centre of the bruise was a deep, angry purple, the colour rich and dark, indicating just exactly where you hit the ground. Surrounding it was a halo of different shades of blue, varying in intensity. Some looked like deep twilight, while others were lighter, reminiscent of faded denim. And there was an edge of yellow-green, giving the false impressing it was beginning to heal, though it was very much a fresh injury.

The sight only confirms what you thought this morning. There was no chance you'd be painting at any point while on this trip.

"I'm going to get Cora to wrap it again to relieve some of the swelling. She'd have our asses if we don't let her do it."

You shutter. "Don't I know it."

As Mickey left to find Cora, you tried to figure out what happened. While everyone else had finally woke up and was venturing around the camp, Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found. Neither was Rueben, for that matter. Jake, however, was extending his Yeti mug towards Grace with a grateful nod, who was going around filling cups of coffee after having watched the spectacle.

You knew what was coming next. Sitting on his chair was his food bag, and Jake kneeled next to it, placing the mug on the ground to rummage through it. To your surprise, the sight fills you with guilt, and you battle the urge to tell him what you did.

After all, he didn't need to call out Jessica for what she said. But the angel and devil on your shoulder are vying for your attention, and you don't know which one you should listen to.

Be the better person, Maeve. Tell him not to drink it.

Sit back and watch the show, Midge. He deserves it.

Your internal conflict of should or shouldn't is decided for you when Jake finally grabs onto the tiny bottle and dumps a little bit into his coffee. You scrunch your face as he closes the lid and lifts the Tumblr to his lips to take his first sip.

His reaction was immediate, sputtering out his coffee with the grace of an angry camel, and his mug fell to the ground with a loud clank. He stands, racing off towards the bush, coughing and gagging as if he were about to bring up whatever was in his stomach.

You wouldn't be surprised if he did.

But where you thought you'd be rolling in laughter and enjoying his little misery, you're wincing instead. Both elated he was getting a small ounce of karma and mad he had to be anything but kind this morning.

"Why is Jake gagging and throwing up his breakfast over in the bush?" Cora asked as she kneeled down in the same spot Mickey had been.

"Not too sure. Maybe he mistook the salt for sugar instead," you answered her, holding out your wrist for her to wrap.

Cora had already picked up your bandage from where Mickey had placed it in the cup holder when she regarded you for a moment.

She shook her head. "Midge, you didn't."

You eyed her as she started to wrap your arm. "You can't tell me he didn't deserve it after this?" you say, lifting your arm as she securely tightens your bandage around your thumb.

Cora bites her lip in concentration for a second, careful to mind your hand as she pulls the bandage tight, allowing for relief but mindful of how much it hurts. You let out a soft cry as she pulled the material over the most painful part of your wrist.

"I suppose it's a harmless prank," she remarked once the worst of it was over.

"Be glad it didn't do more."

Cora lifted her head, though she didn't stop wrapping your hand. "Did you do more?"

You shook your head. "I'm not saying anything."

And you didn't want to, even if you did or didn't. Jake was alarmingly kind this morning, and anything you said or did in addition to this would make you that bitch in all of this. Cora would be the last person on earth to judge you for pulling shit like this, but that didn't mean the rest of the group would.

It seems your point is nearly proven, too, when Nat pulls you aside in the breakfast line, glaring at you like a mother extremely disappointed in her kid.

"Is that it?" she asked you firmly, jerking her head over towards Jake. "With him?"

She stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, and you only offered her a small, toothy grin. "You can't tell me he doesn't deserve a little karma for this," you say, holding up your wrist.

Nat eyed your hand, her face still hard. "You got hurt last night, Maeve. If the two of you keep this up, it's going to escalate, and things are going to get worse."

You shrugged. "It's just a harmless prank, Nat. You know I'm capable of doing much worse."

She does know, having been your accomplice back in school. The two of you were in charge of the student union's annual April Fool's trick for three years in a row. To this day, you're pretty sure some of those crickets were still alive and pissing Dr. Flynn off in his lecture hall.

There was a moment of silence as Nat weighed your words, prompting you to say, "He woke all of us up yesterday morning by banging a pan, he wanted us to lug the cooler up that hill, and he screamed bear, resulting in this," you hold up your arm. "Salt in his coffee? That's minuscule in comparison."

"Alright," she finally said, her voice firm. "But it stops there. We don't need the drama."

"Alright, Mom," you joked, grabbing a bowl of oatmeal. Satisfied with your answer, she let you go, guiding you back to your spot in the line. After collecting your bowl and while she was getting hers, you leaned over, resting your shoulder against hers.

"You got to admit, though, the look on his face was worth it alone."

Nat couldn't help it when she sputtered out a laugh at the memory, and you giggled softly as you swayed back to your tent with your food.

You wondered if something as simple as switching out sugar for salt would be enough to fuck up his day. Or if the guilt building in the pit of your stomach would stop any time soon. After all, Velma Kelly in Chicago was right.

He definitely had it coming. Anyone would have done the same.

...Right?

Careful, Maeve - Nat's not happy.. Not at all...

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @trickphotography2 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader @halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30

Part 5 - I can't go on without you - is being edited!

~ Lucky ☘️

#horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #Set Me Alight #top gun au #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman x you #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #Spotify #top gun maverick x reader #jake seresin x female reader

[horseshoegirl]

Happy First Anniversary to Damn Those Dog Tags!

On February 22nd of last year, I decided to return to fan fiction writing with this story and posted the first chapter. I couldn't have predicted the response or how many people fell in love with Liz, Sadie, and their version of Jake. So I wanted to mark the occasion with something special.

A few people on here know I draw, so for over the past three months, I've been trying to design a book cover of sorts. I finally finished it last night.

💛This is my thank you to you guys 💛

Please be gentle... I'm not used to publicly sharing my artwork (Idk if it's even that good, and I was also really scared to post it), though this story means a lot to me, so I had to do something 😅💛 Can you guess what chapter this is from?

Damn Those Dog Tags Masterlist

Special thanks to @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky and @callsignspitfire for your feedback over countless screenshots as I drew it and encouraging me to post it 😅💛

Tagging the tag list for DTDT here:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13

@ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot @dizzybee03 @fanficfandomlove

And for those who followed along: @mycobrakai1972 @wherethewildfanlives @abaker74 @wildxwidow @penguin876

@tgmreader @hookslove1592 @pinkdisneygirl97 @superskittles

From the master tag list:

@lynnevanss @wretchedmo @stargazer-88 @redbarn1995

@bellaireland1981 @halibshepherd

-Lucky ☘️

#horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #damn those dog tags #fan art #my own fan art #jake and liz #maverick top gun #top gun maverick

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 23 - Sleep Deprivation

📜So... I really don't know what to say right now. As a writer, we are supposed to be able to form words into sentences that create worlds, characters... emotions... but I cannot bring myself to form the correct words to describe how grateful I am that you guys took a chance on me, writing this piece of fan fiction after an 8-year hiatus, wondering if I still had it, if I was enough. DTDT is the first piece of Fan Fiction I've ever finished, the first story I have ever finished. And along with you all, I've cried, I've laughed, I've wept, I've smiled over Sadie being herself and Liz standing up for what is right. Jake being who he is, and Bradley... well, he speaks for himself 😅 It's one thing to say you write fan fiction, but it's another thing to say that you want to write fan fiction for people who make you feel supported in what you do. This is my THANK YOU to you all. For your kind words and lengthy reblogs, for the comments, likes and support. DTDT only exists because of you guys. And I love every one of you from the bottom of my heart.

So... with a bittersweet mention, here is the final Part of DTDT. Part 23, Sleep Deprivation 😭

❗18+. Strong Language, Pure fluff, Original Female Character, Original Child Character, PDA, Just in case letters, and maybe a few tears...

#6K words

Part 22 | Masterlist

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, Dear Sadie Bug, Happy Birthday to you!" 

Cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck as Sadie smiled at her family, all gathered and singing to her around the piano. Uncle Roo was playing, lightly swaying into her side, making her laugh. Alyssa had her hand on Uncle Roo's shoulder, and the rest of the Dagger Squad was scattered about, singing along with the crowd.

She turned eleven today, and while she loved the fact everyone was here, with her celebrating, she found that the best gift she ever could have received was in how she saw you smile, here and now, with Uncle Jake holding you close. You were smiling like you used to, long before you had left to live in this small town she now called home.

Uncle Jake had lived up to his promise. He reminded you that you were worth it. He made you happy. And he tried.

She didn't need anything else.

"Sadie," a hesitant voice called from behind her. She spun on the piano stool, only to find a single yellow tulip attached to a slightly shaky hand in front of her face.

"Happy Birthday." Will smiled crookedly.

You felt Jake tense up against your back, his chest puffing out and his grip on your waist near the point of pain. Bradley even twisted at the sound of Will's voice, staring him down above the rim of his father's Raybans.

While Bradley might be dating his mother and, albeit, starting to bond with Will, he knew a wooing attempt when he saw one. Sadie's heart was another matter entirely.

You and Alyssa giggled softly at Sadie, blushing as she took the flower and at Jake and Bradley for shooting each other, what you could only describe as an "overprotective dad vibe."

Sadie delicately grasped the tulip, her eyes lighting up as she glanced at Will. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice a mix of appreciation and surprise.

A silent exchange passed between Jake and Bradley. It was as if they had reached an unspoken agreement, a united front. Will had no idea what he was up against, two grown men ready to go to comedic if not slightly absurd, lengths to stir hardship to any boy that dared to approach Sadie.

Will shot his mom a look, who nodded at him encouragingly.

"Do you wanna.. go play on that old arcade machine in the back?"

Sadie went to open her mouth, an eager yes about to escape her lips, until she thought she heard a growl coming from behind her. She turned back, seeing her Uncle Roo first, his jaw tight. Her Uncle Jake wasn't that far off either, his nose flaring with each breath he took, glaring down at her best friend.

She shot you a pleading, panicked look, hoping you could see the desperation on her face.

Jake and Bradley opened their mouths, Jake's voice overtaking Bradley's as he went, "Over my dead..."

But they were cut short. You had taken your arm resting on top of the piano and jabbed Jake in the gut with your elbow. Alyssa had caught on, grabbing a lock of Bradley's hair at the back of his head and tugging once hard.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, jutting your head urgently towards the back. You silently mouthed, 'Go. Now!' and Sadie giggled, scrambling off the bench with her flower in hand, running off with Will towards the back.

Alyssa let go of Bradley's hair, prompting him to shout out, "What the Hell!" as you turned to face Jake.

"Relax, both of you. She's eleven!"

Jake pouted, clutching his stomach. "That little shit stole my idea. Only I get to give her a yellow tulip... it's a tradition at this point, and here he comes, swooping in with his tulip-like he's Mr. Original. It's my thing with her."

"Hey, that's my son you're talking about, Seresin!"

You tapped the back of his head with your hand, biting your lip to stiff your giggle. "He's a kid, Jake! It's just a tulip, not a wedding ring."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Jake gulped hard, and you swore you saw a flash of pure terror cross his face. "No, Nope. No. I just got to call her mine. I need to do the things with her before she properly grows up," he sputtered. "A wedding ring? Liz, she's eleven! Don't put that mental image in my head. She's our girl, don't do that!"

Jake wasn't kidding about Sadie being his, not really.

Once the two of you brought Sadie home from Camp, you sat her down and asked if she was okay with Jake moving in. Of course, Sadie was ecstatic, nodding her head and asking 'when' or 'how soon', which prompted the two of you to start to plan things seriously. But it also posed the question Ridley had to consider the second Sadie was born.

Who would look after her if something happened to you?

It was nothing formal. You merely had to change your Will, stipulating that Jake would be the one to get her should anything happen. But Jake treated it as if it actually was, boasting to anyone he could about his niece. The words practically rolled off his tongue with ease and that sheer cocky confidence he was known for. It also didn't surprise you when you found information packets lumped on top of his computer in your office about the process for formally adopting.

It just further proved to you how much Jake wanted to be in your life.

"She has a good head on her shoulders, Jake. And she adores you," you remarked, looping your arms around his neck. Jake's chest rumbled against yours as he huffed. "Besides, I think you set a good example. She clearly expects high standards."

He let out a grumble, and you could only laugh and stand on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips. "You'll always be the reigning champion in this house, Hangman."

"I agree with Jake, Liz. We need to lock her in a tower."

You dropped your head to Jake's chest before you turned to roll your eyes at Bradley. You caught sight of Sadie in the distance, and she met your eyes and gave you a thumbs up, the tulip still in her other hand. The message was clear; she was okay, she was happy. That's all that mattered to you.

"Want another?" you asked the two of them, gathering their empty bottles. The both of them nodded, and you shook your head as Jake stepped into the space you vacated, leaning over the side of the piano to scheme with Bradley. You rolled your eyes at Alyssa, who shooed you on your way.

You smiled at Penny as you approached the bar, holding the empty bottles out to the air, signalling for two more. It's not as if you couldn't have gotten them and added them to a tab yourself, but Penny was adamant you didn't work tonight.

Your phone rang out and vibrated within the pocket of your dress. You pulled it out, wondering who could be calling you. Everyone who possibly could be was here at the Hard Deck, celebrating Sadie's Birthday.

Then, you saw the caller ID.

The bottles slipped from your fingers, shattering upon impact with the floor.

Not that you noticed, but everyone's heads lifted and turned towards the sound of breaking glass. Jake was the first to reach you, mindful of the broken glass at your feet. Then Bradley, Alyssa, Nat, and all of the Daggers swarmed you, knowing your history with phone calls and wondering what else might be thrown at you this time.

You pressed accept on the tiny device, bringing your phone to your ear, eyes wide as you stared at Jake, panting hard.

"Hello?"

Penny had yelled for someone to turn off the jukebox and for everyone to shut up. It was dead quiet, but for the sound of your voice and the tiny speaker of your phone, the entire bar invested in the outcome of your call.

Jake wanted to reach for you, but he didn't know if he should, wanting to leave you to have your space to deal with whoever was on the other end of that call. You turned your back to face him as the other person started speaking, you pressing a knuckle to your lips and biting down hard.

Everyone watched you nod and heard the question, 'What does that mean for us?' cross your lips.

"What..?" Rooster started to say, breaking the silence. Jake shot his arm out, shaking his head.

But the second he saw you grip your forearm and your skin turning red, he stepped forward, uncaring as glass crunched under his boots, to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Yes, thank you. I'll call if I have any more questions."

You squeezed Jake's hand once he gripped yours, and you hung up the phone. Turning to face the group, you looked at them with a shocked look on your face.

"Liz? Darlin?" Jake asked. "What happened?"

You swallowed, hardly believing what you heard yourself. "Uh...Tyler got thirty years to life."

A few collective gasps went around the room.

"They got him on attempted kidnapping, two counts of physical assault, and.. and murder."

Jake reached for your face and cradled your cheek. "Murder?"

You nodded, silent tears falling from the corners of your eyes. "There was a traffic camera... that fucking white car... the spoiler on the back... they caught him chasing her..."

Your words were fractured sentences as Jake combed your hair back from your face, you trying to sort between your thoughts and the information you had been given.

"That was the district attorney. I didn't even know he had a court date," you sniffed. "His whole family is going down for this... and there was a jury too. Apparently, they didn't take kindly to him attacking an active and decorated Naval Aviator."

Jake huffed, a soft smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. You could tell he was stuck somewhere between relief and discomfort.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?"

He was. Tyler was truly well and out of your lives, and that was a good thing. But somewhere deep down, Jake felt as if the universe had twisted things to make him the hero in a story where the true victims were you and Sadie. It didn't sit right with him.

"I don't wanna sound like an ass, but my career shouldn't have had any bearing that decision."

You shook your head, touched by his reaction. "It doesn't matter, Jake. Not to me. He's going away."

You pressed your forehead to his, a happy sob escaping your lips at the realization suddenly washing over you. "He won't be able to get near Sadie ever again. And Ridley finally has justice for what happened to her. We're free."

Jake pressed a quick kiss to your lips, smiling as you gasped another deep breath. The second he pulled away, letting his nose rest beside yours, you chanted out happily, "We're free!"

Cheers went up around the Hard Deck, and Penny rang the bell, singling a free round on the house. The rest of the Daggers sighed with relief, lamenting about needing a drink, while Rooster whooped, running back to the piano and sliding along the bench as he ran his fingers across the keys.

Yet Jake and you stayed where you were, staring at each other with echoing smiles.

A well-known piano riff sounded off the walls of the Hard Deck, and Jake and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, using the distraction to slip out onto the hard deck patio and over to a grassy part of the beach. You could hear Rooster's playing at a distance, but it was enough not to be a bother.

You went to step forward, but Jake pulled you back by the grip he had on your hand, spinning you under his arm. You giggled, your head tilted back as you went, only to find Jake's hand resting flat on the curve of your back, urging the two of you to slow dance.

Bright orange rays hit the side of Jake's face. Hues of gold, pinks, and soft yellows, all sculpting his jawline, shining tiny flecks into his eyes, and casting a glow into his hair. They highlighted the small, affectionate small that was tugging at the corner of his lips. Jake's Mona Lisa smile was one thing, but this was one that was only reserved for you.

"Is this going to be our thing?" you asked him. "Watching sunsets?"

Jake smirked. "We could do a sunrise to switch things up?"

You let Jake spin you under his arm again, a smile on your face. He pulled you back to him, hooking both his arms around your waist while yours wrapped themselves around his neck.

"No," you smiled, swaying with him across the grass, thinking of when you went to visit Ridley. "I think sunsets are reserved just for us."

---

Despite having a party at the Hard Deck, Sadie's birthday did happen to fall on a Saturday night. So it was only natural one of her birthday wishes ended up being that she wanted these fun-filled nights to continue.

Who were you to deny her that request?

It was just the team that came back to your place afterwards for cake, your backyard lit up by your string lights and the glowing flames of your bonfire pit, music blasting from your speakers. Sadie had just finished opening her gifts from the squad, and Jake and you had saved yours for last.

Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flicking the stand back on the case and propping it on the edge of the pit. It let out a shrill tone, and Sadie squinted her eyes at the tiny screen, wondering who Jake had decided to call, now of all times.

Suddenly, a woman who looked just like him appeared on the screen.

"Is this Sadie?!"

Sadie squinted her eyes. "Yes...."

Janet's face beamed with excitement. "It's so nice to meet you finally, my brother can't shut up about you. Happy Birthday, Sweetie."

"That's nice of him," she answered, though you knew what she was doing, challenging Janet to earn her affection.

"Which one are you?" Sadie pressed. Jake bit his tongue, fighting a grin.

Janet didn't hesitate when she replied, "Not the twit and not the one that needs a pitchfork shoved up his as... butt."

Sadie giggled, and Janet shamefully called out, "Sorry, Liz."

You shrugged. "She's heard worse."

You met Nat's eyes on the other side of the fire, noticing how she was watching Sadie contently.

"Uhhh," Janet remarked. "You actually kind of look like my brother."

"Do you have any embarrassing stories about him?" Sadie's high-pitched voice made you turn back toward the camera.

Janet glanced over towards you within the frame. "She really is your niece, isn't she?"

You laughed, and Sadie broke into a full smile, her guard dropping a bit. "I like her," she declared, glancing at you and Jake for your reactions.

"If you two are done squaring off.." Jake said, rolling his eyes. "Janet had a hand in your gift and wanted to watch you open it."

He placed a box in Sadie's lap, holding the edge so it wouldn't fall as she tore into it.

"Go on, open it," Jake encouraged with a little bounce in his voice.

Sadie tore at the wrapping paper, lifted the lid and gasped. "Cowboy boots!" she squealed, pulling them out to admire the intricately stitched patterns and the shine of the leather.

"Thought you might need a pair if you're gonna be an honorary Texan," Jake said, grinning from ear to ear.

Sadie lunged forward, giving him a huge hug. "Thank you, Uncle Jake!"

He laughed, hugging her back. "Thank Janet, too. She picked them out."

Sadie squealed out her thanks as she kicked her slip-ons off, quickly trying them on. Except she shrieked when her foot met something within the sole, and she pulled the boot off only to reach down and grasp a few hard pieces of paper.

With a dramatic flair, she pulled out three plane tickets, holding them up for everyone to see. Her eyes widened, and a squeal escaped her lips as she put two and two together. "Are these... are we going to Texas?!"

You took one from her hand, reading the front. "Jake, you didn't."

He shrugged. "She needs to see where her family is from."

Bradley audibly gagged from his spot on one of the chairs, and you barked out, "Can it, Bradley! Don't ruin the moment!"

"We'll see you soon, Aunt Janet," Sadie said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with newfound enthusiasm.

"Counting the days, sweetheart," Janet said, waving goodbye as Jake ended the call.

As Sadie tried on her new boots, you reached down beside the bench to grab what would be Sadie's final gift of the night. You carefully slid it into her lap, placing a hand on her back.

"This one is from me... and your mom."

Sadie peered up at you with wide eyes before tearing into the box, practically tossing the lid off in haste. Her tiny hands tore at the tissue paper, and Jake was laughing at her eagerness as the tuffs flew up into the air.

She gasped when caught sight of the dark blue denim folded neatly into the box.

You found that Jean Jacket amongst Ridley's things in the storage unit, finding the courage to go through it finally and see what you could salvage or donate as you undertook the task of redoing Sadie's room. You knew as soon as you saw it that Ridley had been intending to give it to her as a gift, a twin butterfly and ladybug patches having been already sown into the material on the back.

That's what Sadie was seeing now, the jacket folded in such a way in the box only those two patches would be on display.

She wiggled her cowboy boot-clad feet back and forth in excitement as she grabbed the shoulders of the jacket, lifting it up out of the box to hold it in front of her. Jake grabbed the box and added it to the rest of the discarded wrapping paper.

Except as she held it up to inspect the back, the front was on display to everyone else sitting around the fire pit. Collective gasps and shouts of "What?!" sounded off, and you had to bite back your laugh.

"What the hell are those?!"

Sadie lowered the Jacket, peering over to see her Uncle Bob, ready to rat him out for swearing, when she saw his mouth was open like a fish. Twisting her brow, she flipped it over, a high-pitched gasp escaping her lips as she saw the two patches on the front.

The Dagger patch had been the most damaged one, but it was all too easy to grab the one plastered to one of the walls of the Hard Deck for reference. When Mr Murray asked why you wanted to use the busted one and not the one still intact, you had simply replied with, 'This one is special.'

It sat just next to the left breast pocket, perhaps standing out the most. But you, Sadie, and Jake hadn't been staring at that one. There was a second patch adorning the right breast pocket - a patch with a slight modification.

Sadie ran her finger across the gold-threaded wings before tracing the tiny words wedged in tight on either side below it. The tiny words that stood on top of the reason why this particular patch was now so special to her.

Proud niece of Hangman

To your surprise, it wasn't Bradley, but Nat, who yelled out first, "Hey! What about the rest of us?!"

Her shout set off a chain reaction around the group.

"It's not fair he gets to be on there first!"

"Why didn't you ask us too, Liz!?"

"There's a Dagger patch on there. All of us should be on there!"

But you weren't paying attention to any of them. You were looking at Jake, who had reached out to trace the patch as the jacket rested in Sadie's lap.

She looked up at him, hugging his side. "It's true, you know," she said a matter of factly. "I am proud of you, Uncle Jake. I always will be."

Jake snaked an arm around her back, hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, eyeing you with a smile. You would never stop surprising him—the both of you.

The Daggers were still arguing amongst themselves when Sadie scowled at them.

"Hey, guys!" She shouted, giving everyone pointed looks across your deck. "It's my birthday, shove it! He counts! And If I say he goes first, he goes on first, okay!?"

Everyone else, save Bradley, backed off.

"Guess I'm just chopped liver then."

Sadie narrowed her eyes, pushing herself to stand.

"You listen here, you big fat glorified chicken..."

You couldn't contain your laughter as Sadie marched over to Bradley, her finger pointed out in front of her as she started laying into him. Rooster looked scared, and you shook your head, wondering why he didn't realize Sadie would jump to Jake's defence the second she could.

Jake startled you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Meet you in the kitchen?" he spoke into your ear, squeezing his hand once before walking off, collecting the tray of dirty dishes on the table.

You stayed with Sadie for a few more minutes, making sure the rest of your crazy family didn't kill each other over who could have one of their patches on Sadie's jacket next. Though you'd never let on that Mav secretly slipped you one of his as he joined Sadie when she came back to sit with you.

As you sat there, watching the people who had come to mean so much to you, you felt an odd sense of what you could only describe as 'home' wash over you. It wasn't tied to a place but to your extraordinary found family. Because as much as they were there for Sadie, they were there for you too.

It was the peculiar kind of warmth they brought you, whether Nat was trying to get you to come out of your shell, Penny for acting like the defacto mother you didn't quite have most of your life, or Bob willing to be himself around you. It was in the way Mav cared for both you and Sadie as he did for each of his Daggers and how Coyote was always there when you needed him. How Payback and Fanboy made sure everyone was having fun, and how Rooster was the troubled brother you never had, a little broken, a little worse for wear, but genuinely kind-hearted.

Every family a bad egg after all, albeit bad wasn't the word you'd use to describe him at all.

They helped to fill the gaps left by your grief and sorrow, and you vowed to hold each of them a little closer. Because your life had been a pile of good things and also bad. The good didn't always soften the bad things you had to go through, but the bad never spoiled the good or made them unimportant in your life. Your life was messy and unpredictable but beautiful with its imperfections.

And you, somewhere along the way, were living with people who had chosen to stand by you in your darkest moments.

And Jake. Your Jake.

You turned to Sadie. "Think you can manage these guys while I help Uncle Jake?"

She smiled up at you, nodding, before looping her arm through Mav's, resting her head against his shoulder, tenderly glancing between some of her favourite people in the world.

Walking away, you paused at the back door, leaning up against the glass with your arms crossed as you found Jake humming, swaying along to the song currently playing outside as he worked, hands covered in suds as he diligently cleaned the dishes.

You faked a cough, startling Jake as the sponge slipped from his hands back into the dishwater.

"Anything I can help you with, Lieutenant?" you tease, playfulness in your tone and a grin gracing your lips. Jake narrowed his eyes at you, a cocky smirk on his face, then jerked his head to the empty space beside him.

"I wash. You dry?"

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, feeling him pause to place his hands over yours. You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek to his back and letting out a deep sigh.

A wave of profound gratitude washed over you. This man had chosen to love not just you but Sadie as well. He had stepped into your lives, filling spaces you hadn't even known were empty at a time when you weren't at your best. When you were fighting with yourself tooth and nail not to start a relationship, when you were missing your sister so much, the thought of her not being here was too great to bear. When you were scared to let anyone that close to you without Sadie's approval and yet, Jake somehow found his way.

You loved him. And there would never be a day in your life when you would let him forget it.

The two of you did the dishes, the odd comment or two passing by. The both of you knew a few of them would be sleeping over, you having already made up the pull-out in your office and Jake having gathered the spare pillows and blankets from your hall closet.

The two of you might have bumped your hips, teased one another, and shared a kiss or two. You might have blown bubbles in Jake's face, and he might have tapped you with the dish rag.

But when everything was said and done, and Jake was working to drain the sink, your eyes tracked to the top of the refrigerator, where that white envelope called out to you. It was wedged between your cookbooks, and you saw nothing else as you pushed yourself off the counter with both hands.

Reaching up, you worked the thick piece of paper out from between the books, only to hold it, staring at the front and absentmindedly tracing the writing on the surface.

Without looking up, you spun towards Jake, feeling a complex mix of emotions. Love, apprehension, vulnerability. But underpinning it all was an entwinement of a slight sadness, but more so serenity and acceptance.

"Hey, Jake," you said softly. Jake turned around, the smile on his face fading when he noticed you were holding a white envelope in your hands. A gentle smile was on your face as you looked down, closing your eyes once before lifting your head.

"I have something for you."

Taking the few steps needed to close the distance between you and Jake, you held out the envelope.

"Another letter?" he teased, slinging the dishtowel onto his shoulder and wiping his hands dry before taking it from your hands. He flipped it over, eyes searching the front until he spotted the fancy handwriting.

Jake's eyes shot to yours, utterly shocked. Yet, you didn't do anything except squeeze his wrist once and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I'll be out in the back with the others if you need me."

Jake remained frozen on your kitchen floor, watching as you walked out the back door. Sadie immediately ran to you, and you held out your arms, a cheerful laugh racking your chest as she hugged you tight.

Jake smiled at the sight, his girls laughing with one another as the music changed, and you wrapped your arms around her, waddling back and forth as the two of you started to dance. But then he felt the weight of the envelope you had given him, and he was drawn back down at the handwriting gracing the surface.

To him

Despite not having seen her handwriting, he knew who this letter was from. You had told him you had opened the shoebox about the letters Ridley had left for various points in either your or Sadie's lives.

He'd never expected Ridley to have written one for him... or at least, the idea of him.

Sitting at your kitchen table, he carefully opened the envelope, tilting it upside down to pull at the folded-up pieces of paper nestled inside. But as he pulled, several polaroids fell onto the table and a few to the floor.

Placing the letter off to the side, he reached down to scoop up the ones that had fallen, drawing in a sharp breath as he flipped one over.

The resemblance between Ridley and you was uncanny.

He didn't know what to expect, seeing a photo of her for the first time. Her eyes twinkled the same way yours did when you were happy, and the two of you shared the same dimples when you smiled. She had the same nose as you, the same hair colour, and the same face shape.

But there were also differences.

He smiled when he noticed the line of freckles spreading across her cheeks, the same type he knew scattered across your back. She had a scar running through her eyebrow and another matching just above her forehead.

But above all else, her smile echoed Sadie's, wide and happy.

He picked up another one, seeing you, as a teenager, laying in a hammock with a notebook and a feathered pen. Ridley had written along the white frame, an author in the making.

There was also one of Sadie as a baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, blue eyes wide as she stared up at the camera. And another of you holding her to your chest in a rocking chair, the two of you asleep. There were a few of you as a kid, another of you holding up a key with your tongue sticking out, and another at your graduation, Sadie on your shoulders stealing your cap.

Jake realized almost all the ones of you were strategically taken by your sister without your knowledge. It's so reminiscent of when Sadie sent that first Polaroid, the same circumstances - like mother like daughter.

Jake laid each out in front of him, lining them up to what he assumed was their chronological order, only to stare down at the story Ridley had left him. He felt his throat tighten as he looked at all of them. Even in the face of something as heartwarming as leaving him photographs of the three of you, the lingering weight of Ridley's absence was inescapable, and it hit him square in the chest.

Though he never had met her, the space she had left was undeniable. Seeing her now, he realized maybe he did know her. In Sadie's smile, in your will to take care of others, in the music she had shared with you and in both of your abilities to put somebody in their place rightly. It caused Jake to smile down at the only photo of her, resting on the table.

"It's nice to meet you, Ridley."

So finally, after the last photo, after the last word had been seen, and the last memory had been touched, Jake unfolded those pieces of paper and began to read.

To the person my sister loves,

Well, shit, she finally did it. My little sister finally found her, Mr. Darcy.

Sorry. As you probably have already discovered, the Beck sisters have a little Pride & Prejudice obsession. Totally my fault for naming my sister after a character in a book I fell in love with in school, but I took my chance when I saw it. But if you have the tendency sometimes to be a pompous asshole with an ego problem, then hey, at least she wasn't that far off the mark.

I'm sorry I'm not there to meet you. Whatever circumstances have prevented me from doing so. I'm sorry I can't have you over to a family dinner, ask about your life, and get to know you. For you to win me over, or for us to bat heads.

Just kidding... I'm more bummed about not being able to give you a shovel talk in person. But I know my daughter, and something is telling me Sadie would have already beaten me to it long before I had an actual chance. She has a thing about Lady Bugs, so run if you see her with an empty water bottle and she... Well, if you don't already know now, chances are you will eventually.

One way or another.

So I think this is my only chance to do it, sad as that is. Sad for you - you probably thought you were getting off scot-free. Nope, sir, I'm still going to kick your ass from my grave. So you better heed the wishes of a dead woman.

Now, she wouldn't have given you this letter if she didn't truly love you... if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with you. She also must have made you promise to put Sadie first, and the fact you're holding this letter means you have. By her giving this to you, it means you are entirely worthy of her love.

(I don't write this as a means to scare you or warn you about what you're getting into. Cause no takebacks, sir, it's a done fucking deal now. I will so totally haunt your ass if otherwise. Sadie gets her wrath from me.)

There is so much more I want to tell you than I can fit into the pages of this letter. There will always be more, more things left unsaid, more things I never told them, or in what I'm telling you - God, the pressure to write something for someone you may never meet is hard…I hope you have a sense of humour cause I really don't stop rambling.

So, I guess I'll stick with three. Three things I want you to know…

One: Music does not solve all your problems.

Liz might try to tell you otherwise, that music can heal, and while I won't entirely disagree, you need to know the reason why. When we were kids, I'd play music to drown out the arguments, the slamming doors, the not-so-quiet sobs. The ability to guess a tune in just a few notes? That came from needing to know which song would best mask the sounds we didn't want to hear. The playlist wasn't just music; it was emotional armour. So when you listen to music with her, know that there's more beneath the surface. Beneath that lighthearted game is a history that's no game at all. When the playlist ends, and the distractions fade away, be the man who's there for her, not one that hides away when things get rough.

Two: A memory is no longer beautiful just because it fades.

People always used to ask me why I chose a Polaroid over a digital camera. With a Polaroid, each shot counts. You have a limited number of exposures, and each film cartridge is precious. There's no delete button, no do-over, just like in life. And when that photo develops in front of you, you have to wait for it to mean something. Once it does, it's permanent. You can hold it, you can touch it, you can pin it on a wall. But polaroids also fade.

Memories fade. But their value isn't in how long they last but in the ones you choose to capture in the first place. My sister and my daughter have been through a lot, so when you're building this life with them, be mindful of the moments you're capturing. Make those moments count. Make them worthy of being looked back on so there is no room for anyone to doubt the three of you didn't live a life that was not full of love.

Three: Grief is constant, unchanging, and complex - it is the most certain thing, next to death, we are guaranteed.

I have a very, very sneaky suspicion you are a pilot in the navy - hell, she works as a bartender in a navy bar; it was bound to happen with one of you lot (You just better not be the one Penny had called her about, rumoured to be sleeping with all the female bartenders... if you are... aha, good luck sir.. you're so in trouble - That's what Liz gets from me) so you know exactly what I mean. It's ingrained into your soul that each time you go up there, you might not come back down.

Liz struggles with grief and the knowledge that life is precious and fleeting. Don't add to it. Be the person who acknowledges it, who understands it, and chooses every day to make the time you have with them count. Life is fleeting; It can be gone in an instant. It's nothing we should ever take for granted, so please, please, from this dead woman pleading to the man my sister loves, please never take your life with her, with Sadie, as such.

They're both yours now, god help you. Liz, my dear sister, who cares too much. Sadie, my ladybug, who is too honest and sassy for a kid.

I've always put the two of them before myself. Liz has probably told you our story, so I won't rehash the nasty details in what's supposed to be a touching letter - I'm brutally honest, so when I say truly believe it was my sole purpose to be on this earth to 1) take care of my sister and 2) to create what happens to be, next to Liz, one of the most precious things in my life, I fucking mean it.

That being said, we need to make a slight amendment to the Sadie promise. Between the two of us, we need to add Liz to it too.

Lizzie needs to be reminded, given a list of all the reasons she's still here breathing, that she is doing right by what I want for the two of them. Because I know my sister, and she overthinks everything. She will be hanging on by a thread to every decision she will ever make with our Bug, wondering if she has done enough or if she is doing enough.

She already is. She already was.

And she doesn't owe me more than that.

You, however, do.

I need you to remind her of that - that she owes me nothing. I need you to take photos. Take as many as fucking possible. Go on hikes and look for the tiniest bugs. Make memories to hold on to and be the person who scares away Sadie's first date or holds her while she cries. To walk her down the aisle if she chooses and help her if she decides to have kids of her own.

Tell Elizabeth you love her. Every single day. Because you know as well as I do, you don't know the last time you'll be able to. Crawl into the bathtub with her when things get too much and hold her. All she needs is to be held, to know someone is there, standing by her. Thats it.

Stay up listening to vinyl with her, dance across a kitchen floor and make her laugh. Communicate with her. Please, for the love of fucking god, communicate with her about your feelings and your thoughts. She is such a good listener, and she cares so much for the people she loves. That's just who she is, so never forget it.

And promise me this one last favour...

There are more letters like this one in the red box I know she's probably only just opened, probably a long time after I'm gone. Mostly for Sadie, but there are some for Liz... maybe a couple more for you. I'm not sure yet, I'm honestly just making this up as I go.

Can you please make sure they open them? Go through the pile of memories I've left in there every so often?

I'm not being egotistical when I say I know I'm going to be missed. Grief does that to people. It's really just love, wanting to be given but with no place to go. I know those two will always love me in life and in death.

But remind them I know. Remind them I love them too - even if I'm not physically there to tell them myself.

This ended up being not as much of a shovel talk as I thought it was going to be, mostly cause I don't have anything to threaten you with truly.

But how about this, instead?

It's probably weird that I want to say thank you, right? Thank you for falling in love with my sister. Thank you for being there for her, for Sadie. For loving them when I cannot.

But I want to anyway. Because they mean everything to me, and it is my only hope they mean everything to you.

So wherever I am, whether it's in the clouds or in a fucking ray of sunshine, or if I'm a freaking bug, I can only hope I get to see the three of you be with each other in every way that matters.

Even if I can't, I know you're there.

And that's more than enough for me.

Love always,

Ridley Beck

~Fin~

🥲

Tag list:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot @dizzybee03 @cassiemitchell

Wickett 🥲

(Sadie, Liz and Jake will be around for blurbs and one-shots if that is something you all are interested in 🥰 )

----

Forever After All - The next series after DTDT

#horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #damn those dog tags #hangman x oc #controlled chaos squad #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #hangman top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #dtdt

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 22 - JUMP

📜 Second last one till the finish! 😭But we get Jake and Sadie's reunion in this one, and some more smut between Jake and Liz! This is also what I'd classify as Sadie's song amongst the bunch.

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!! Also wrap it before you tap it! minors DNI.), and fluff.

#8k words

Part 21 | Masterlist | Part 23

"You missed a spot."

You eyed Jake standing in the doorway to Sadie's room, bare-chested, from your spot on the ladder with a paintbrush in hand.

"Did I now?" you quipped back, your eyes narrowing playfully as you tried to find this alleged missed spot on the wall. Jake sauntered closer, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You did, right here," he pointed vaguely towards the wall. You followed his finger towards the piece of crown moulding you had touched up white, but nothing was amiss.

"You're trying to mess with me, aren't you?"

He shrugged, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you stretch a bit more, get a better view."

Rolling your eyes, you dipped the paintbrush into the tray, contemplating whether to flick a bit of paint at him. "You're impossible," you said with mock exasperation.

"That's why you love me."

Shaking your head, you resumed your painting but couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

It had been a few days since Jake's return. With each day that had passed, Jake's back was slowly healing. You'd account it him being as fit as he was, but after the first few, he no longer limped around the house.

You had gone back to his apartment with him to gather some of his things. If it wasn't the urge to take care of him and have him as close as possible after what happened, it was the fact you finally got a glimpse of what his life was like when he was alone.

As he gathered his things, you sat in his stark grey kitchen, frowning at the lack of warmth. It was stereotypical of someone who had a military career. Besides a few picture frames and a framed Long Horns jersey, the place lacked signs of life, all sharp edges and bare surfaces.

You rushed him out of there the second you could. Jake deserved to have a life filled with life, memories and bright colours. One full of love. 

You were putting the last finishing touches on the walls of her room, and Jake was assembling her new desk chair and bed frame out in the hall.

The two of you had stayed up last night to get her desk built, the thing probably missing one too many bolts and screws, considering how many you had left over. It was tucked neatly into the corner of her room, out of the way of any wet paint.

If all went to plan, her room would be ready in time for when you went to pick her up the day after tomorrow.

Jake circled around your ladder, coming closer and eyeing the paint tray on the top step.

"Don't even think about it," you warned, holding your brush out in some type of threat to get him to stop.

He grinned mischievously, dipping his finger into the tray and flicking a droplet of paint directly onto your arm. "Oops," he said, feigning innocence.

"Jake!" you exclaimed, feigning horror at the small speck of paint on your skin, missing the splatter on your overalls. Without warning, you retaliated, swinging your paintbrush toward him and slapping a generous amount of paint to his cheek.

You tried to stop your laugh.

His eyes widened in mock surprise, and he touched his cheek, smearing the paint a bit more. "Oh, you're asking for it now," he threatened playfully, eyeing you.

You let out a challenging laugh. "You started it, Hangman."

Trying to reach for more paint, Jake's arms were suddenly around you, lifting you off the ladder and settling you down to the ground. Your shouts of protests of 'watch your back' fell on his deaf ears as he spun you to face him, pressing his paint-battered cheek up against yours. You squealed, yelping out his name as he ran his hands up and down the length of your body, smearing the remains of white paint across the denim.

"This is counterproductive. We will never finish her room in time."

"Ah, the wall can wait." he grinned, leaning back to take in his handiwork. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, you wiping, trying to pick away at a dried spec of paint under his eye, and Jake, trying to separate a few strains of your hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, lifting up on the balls of your feet to press your lips to his. It was meant to be a quick kiss, one full of affection and giddiness. But Jake tightened his grip on your waist, tugging you closer and taking what was a movement for you to take a breath, to part your lips in a savage kiss. 

His skin was warm under your wandering hands, his lips soft and aggressive against yours. Till Jake slid his hand up into the roots of your hair, firmly pulling your head back to expose your neck, his lips tracking the ridges of your trachea. 

"Fuck, Jake," you gasped, nails biting into his skin. His hand groped the meaty part of your ass, spreading your cheek and heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. 

"Fuck, I need you so goddamn bad," he gruffed out.  

In the span of seconds, Jake had unclipped the two clasps holding the straps of your overalls together, pushing them over your shoulders and reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, kissing him hard and gasping for breath, scraping your nails down the ridges of his chest.

 He spun you, guiding you a few steps to the corner of the room, bending you slightly over the newly built desk with a hand pressed between your shoulder blades.

"Jake, we can't. Not on Sadie's desk."

"Don't you think we should test it?" he panted out next to your ear, hand sliding down the front of your stomach under your bunched overalls and underwear to cup your cunt, fingers spreading your folds. "Make sure it's secure?"

You whimpered at his touch, your knees on the verge of giving out were it not for your grip on the desk. Jake groaned, curling a finger into your spot. "Ugh, you're so wet for me. Only for me."

Your knees wobbled as he thumbed your clit, and you fell forward, only for Jake to quickly slide his hand at your hip, possessively up your stomach to the center of your chest. With his arm bracketed around your body, you were pulled upright, trapped between him and the desk.

You could do nothing but tilt your head back against his shoulder, leaving your neck exposed, as Jake simultaneously squeezed your breast and pinched your nipple, working his hand into your spot. His mouth was just as bad, going for all the spots he had a chance to study in greater detail that he knew would make you crumble.

"Please, Liz, let me have you again," he groaned desperately into the side of your neck. Turning your head, you met his lips in a desperate kiss, his lips muffling your confirmation before he popped the button on your hip and shoved your overalls down.

You had gone so long without intimacy in your life that you found yourself surprised at how easily you gave in to Jake.

After that first time, the two of you had a long discussion about what the two of you were okay with. Jake ashamedly admitted it was a conversation the two of you should have had after the fair, before the night in his truck, maybe even before the two of you even started dating. But you had assured him he had done nothing so far that you weren't comfortable with, and he had pretty much asked for your consent each time.

And it became clear to you soon after that Jake clearly loved sex.

Reaching for the buckle, Jake's belt clinked as he quickly unworked the strap, the leather hitting the back of your thigh, making you whine. You could even feel the back of his hand as he unzipped his fly and shoved his jeans down, cock jutting out to rub against your folds.

His breath was haggard as he stepped out of them and knocked your leg to the side, grabbing his length only to rub the head teasing against your entrance. You mewled, curling around his arm against your chest.  

"Stop teasing me, Jake," you panted, tilting your hips so that you might thrust yourself back to catch him mid-tease.

"Tell me to do it," he uttered throatily into your ear, having caught on to your attempt, rubbing the head against your clit. "Tell me how good I make you feel." 

But you're not weak, and your resolve is strong. What does your smart mouth reply with, "I have nothing else to compare you to." 

Dropping his forehead to your shoulder, he growls, positioning himself at your entrance. "It's only me. It will only ever be me, making you feel like this, giving you this pleasure, only me fucking you. Loving you. No one else." 

You smirk, knowing you've caught him. "Prove it." 

Jake slid home in one stroke, burying himself in you with a groan, hands grabbing both your hips. 

There were only two other times Jake and you did this. Once after dinner one night during a movie on the couch, and the other in your kitchen while you made coffee. That's not to say other things didn't happen, but with each time you took him, the stretch became easier to handle.

"So tight, darlin'. Ugh, look at you gripping my cock." 

Jake set a harsh pace, a steady claiming rhythm that has you falling to the desk, crying louder and louder each time he hits deep. He's rambling about how pretty you look from his angle, mixing in various swear words while pressing bruises the shape of his fingertips to your hips. He makes a strangled noise, one that has him doubling down and reaching for your shoulder.  

"Tell me where, darlin. Where?!" 

You wanted to feel it again.

"Inside. Please, Jake."

He fell against your back, pinning you to the surface as his hips clashed with yours with newfound vigour. "Yeah? You want me to fill you?"

You whimpered. You knew that tone.

He was going to make you beg for it.

"I said, do you want me to fill you?!" he demanded on a particularly hard thrust. 

You were too far gone to care how you sounded now. 

"Yes, Yes, Yes, please, Jake. Please, cum in me." 

Cold shock surrounds you as Jake pulls his cock from your cunt, causing you to cry out against the surface of the desk at the sudden loss. Then suddenly, you're being pulled up, a duel grip on the bends of your elbows against his chest, stumbling as he guides you away from Sadie's desk.

On weak legs and in supportive arms, you tumble to the ground, letting Jake manhandle you until you are on your back and your legs are wrapped around his waist, him on his knees with his cock, red, angry, poised at your entrance.

Panting, you cock an eyebrow at him in question, but Jake, ruggedly pants out, "I need to see your face," before he presses back in with a rough whine.

"Fuck, Elizabeth. I'm never going to get enough of you."

"Jake," you cry out, gripping the old sheet you used to cover Sadie's bedroom floor above your head.

His eyes darken as he starts his pace again, quickly amounting to rapid punches that have you biting into your bicep. Your screams are muffled, sounding out each time he hits the back of your cervix. It scares you a little bit, this level of desperation, to be wanted on his level by someone. But you knew, above all else, you were the safest when you were with Jake, even now.

Suddenly, Jake's mouth is wrapped around the bend of your jaw, you taking it as a sign he wants you to give him your mouth. You do, curving your spine upward as he takes both of your wrists stretched above your head into the grip of a single hand. He pins you down, taking each desperate cry, every wanton moan, into his mouth as his hips meet yours again and again and again, working to build that release once more.

Then, somewhere in the back of your mind, you register yourself saying you're close, urging him not to stop, never to stop, to keep driving into you, for him to give you everything.

It makes him thrust harder. Makes him take his hand, not holding on to you, and hike your thigh higher on his waist. It makes him gasp into your open mouth, "Always such a good girl, always letting me know what she likes. What she wants. How she takes my cock... How she wants to feel me cum inside her. Oh, fuck, Liz, I'm going to cum."

You scream from his words alone.

Jake sets his teeth into your shoulder, pulling you tight as he finds his release with a needy growl. You whine into his shoulder, a cry following close behind as your muscles pull taunt, and your stomach burns as you clench around him. He slows his thrusts, letting you milk him for all he's worth, until he stills, sagging his entire weight into you and in no rush to leave your warmth.

You can feel rough, harsh pants against your chest that match your own as Jake draws his head down to rest between your breasts, finding a moment's peace as he regains his strength.

Sadie would definitely kill the two of you if she ever found out when she got older.

"Ugh, I'd quit Penny's too if I only had to experience that once in my life."

Jake snickered against your chest, rubbing the outside of your thigh gently. "I'm curious. Where did you hear that story anyway?"

You lifted your head off the ground, staring at him funny.

"Wait, what? It was the reason Penny hired me back? She was short-staffed because there was this pilot," you said, poking him in the shoulder trying to play along, "who was scaring them off after having one-night stands with them."

A faint chuckle slipped from Jake's lips. It was subtle, a mere puff of breath between your breasts. But then it grew, his shoulders starting to shake, and with each second that passed, his voice grew louder and louder.

"What?" you asked him, a smile on your face. Your question only made him laugh harder, making him growl into the side of your breast. "Jake! What's going on?"

You lightly slapped him on his shoulder, prompting him to hum, "I never slept with any of them."

You widened your eyes, shocked, pulling yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him kissing your breasts.

"You're lying."

Jake shook his head, never lifting it once. "I would never lie to you."

"But the sign in the girl's bathroom? That.. I was throwing that at you almost constantly. You never said anything."

"One was having trouble with her... ex, I guess that's what he was?" he started, mouthing the top of your breast. "He slashed her tires during her shift, and I gave her a lift home a couple of times. She said she didn't feel safe with him lurking about and was debating quitting anyway."

You raised your eyebrows, slowly lowering yourself back down to the floor.

"One was trying to get her girlfriend to come to her senses after a fight. She had been offered a publishing job requiring her to move." He gently slid his nose up the length of your clavicle, snuggling his face into your neck and holding you close. "I was just playing a role, pretending to flirt with her. Last I heard, they got married and bought a house together somewhere in Seattle."

Your mouth dropped open.

"The last one was just a troublemaker, running her mouth about sleeping with all the new recruits. She managed to get her nails into Rooster and then saw me as her next victim. I might have had a rep, but I wasn't going to cross Rooster like that. Even back then. She left shortly after."

"Penny didn't know about any of this?"

Jake shook his head. "All of it happened around the time Penny and Mav went on a vacation. The one with the girlfriend wasn't out to anyone yet, and the girl with the ex... well, I'd rather her ex focus on me than her. The tramp just fit the rep I had, so denying anything would have been a waste. I mean, I wasn't a saint, but I hadn't been looking for something like that for a while."

"Jake..."

"It's okay," he sighed affectionately, breath hot against your neck. "It got me to you in the end."

You racked your mind for any explanation or memory that would have counteracted what he just said. But Penny had been short on the details when she asked you to come back. And Jake might have come on a little strong, but you had acted on the assumption he was really trying to get you into his bed.

For all you could have known, it could have been just some harmless flirting, something you've always been awkward at. As you thought about it, he never fully confirmed the story, either. When he kissed you for the first time, and you brought it up, he had said the bartenders had quit for other reasons.

You had also let everyone else form your first impression of him. Because it was that day at Sadie's Soccer game, they told you Jake had a thing for Bartenders.

Well, one person did.

"Fucking hell, Rooster!" you tried to shoot up off Sadie's bedroom floor, angry and feeling like you had been duped. "Bradley Bradshit Fucking Bradshaw, oh, I'm going to fucking murder you!"

Jake pushed you back down to the floor, laughing at your reaction.

"You fucking meathead, you were the one sleeping with people, weren't you?! Your name was on that list, too!"

"It's done and over with, Liz," he snorted. "We just got him on the same page about us. We don't need to jeopardize it."

But you shook your head back and forth against the floor, and Jake couldn't figure out if you were angry or laughing at the idiotic nature that was the overgrown chicken.

"Liz?"

"I really am Elizabeth Bennet!" you whined out. Jake sputtered out a laugh, moving so he was resting completely on top of you, arms looped under your shoulders.

"I really am!" you cried out. "And Ridley's having the last laugh 'cause she freaking named me after her."

Jake stroked your hair back at the side of your temples. "I think that's the first time you've told me about her without being sad."

His words sobered you, making you swallow harshly. "She left me a letter. And called me out on some stuff. Rightly so. I think the worst part for me was not knowing what she was thinking. The most horrible thing I could have done to myself was not read her letter when I should have."

He pressed his forehead to yours, trying to bring you some level of comfort.

"I wish I could have met her."

The other letter you stashed up on top of the refrigerator stood out like a solid picture in your mind.

Maybe you still can.

"I wish you could have too."

Jake trailed his nose along yours, gently kissing your lips, his thumbs sliding across your cheekbones. It has you sliding your hands up the length of his chest, one finding a home on the back of his neck.

When he pulls back, his face has a tender look as he gazes down at you. It fills you with warmth, so much so that you blurt out, "Move in with us."

His smile drops. "What?"

"Move in with us," you replied softly.

Jake blinked, clearly caught off guard, and studied your face for a long moment. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, worried about how he'd respond.

"We've done so much of this backwards, Jake. I don't think any of us had any plans to follow the rules," you admitted, chuckling nervously.

He quirked his lips upward. "Rules? What rules?"

You find solace in his reply, your nerves settling in the pit of your stomach when you return his smile.

"I meant what I said in my letter. I'm in, Jake, whatever comes our way. If it's marriage, kids, or none of those things, I just want you in Sadie and our lives. I don't want to waste time not being with you when you could be swept away from us any time you're called out."

You glide your fingers through his hair, stroking the tuffs back just above his ear. "I want to make memories with you, wake up next to you. I want hikes with you and Sadie and Saturday nights with family, ending with us doing the dishes. I want the two of us to continue being the reason you come home so you never have to know a life that's not full of love."

You felt it before you saw it, a drop of water hitting your cheek, and you realized Jake was fighting to stop tears from pooling in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded. "I might have taken the longest, most backward route to deal with my grief, and God knows I give Bradley one too many chances when I probably shouldn't," You paused, a smirk playing on your lips as you looked into Jake's eyes. "But I love you, and I've never been more sure of anything in my life than this."

Jake took a moment, a whirlwind of emotions playing across his face, till he finally settled on a broad smile. "Let's wait till we get the bug from Camp to decide that?"

You frowned at him, but Jake only shook his head.

"She needs to know what she's getting herself into, yes?" he growled, rolling you on top of him.

------

The morning you were going to pick up Sadie from Camp, Jake was up and out of bed before you. Before you had even opened your eyes, you had reached out for him, only to be met by an empty space.

You got up, reaching for your robe to cover your naked body, hoping Jake hadn't gone out for a run. He was chomping at the bit to get back into exercising, and you didn't blame him. The doctor on base hadn't cleared him yet, and you were doing everything possible to ensure he didn't break that rule and set himself back.

Even the sex had you worried.

You found him sitting at your kitchen table with Sadie's Polaroid in hand and a cup of coffee next to him, gentle swirls of steam catching the light from your window. He was hunched over in thought, absent-mindedly working his hand across his mouth, staring down at her image.

You approached him quietly, placing a gentle hand on his back before wrapping your arm around the front of his chest, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Jake reached up, squeezing your wrist.

"Is that her cockpit photo?"

You remember this one, the F-18 and museum trip, and you understood why Sadie had wanted to include it with the others from the day of the hike.

Jake nodded. "The very one."

He reached over into the small pile, spreading the images out before sliding one of you in front of him. You weren't surprised the risky one was missing, Jake probably having stashed it somewhere safe out of your reach after he found out you wanted to burn it.

He never let you hear the end of that one... and then some. Only Jake could turn your anxious thoughts into something sexual. Though, that was a story for another day.

"This one is yours."

You lifted your head from Jake's shoulder to step next to him and lift the photo off the table.

It wasn't the prettiest photo. Clearly, Sadie had been messing with her camera when she accidentally snapped it. But you looked happy, smiling at Jake out of the frame. It was probably the first time you had truly smiled at something, and you knew then and there that Sadie only included it because all three of you knew who made you smile like that.

Yet, when you turned to Jake, he couldn't take his eyes off hers.

"She's going to prove you wrong, Jake."

He didn't give you a reply, his face etched in worry.

You gently grabbed his arm, pulling it out of the way so you could slide yourself in between him and the table. You popped yourself down, sitting sideways across his lap, wrapping your arm around the back of his neck.

"Can I tell you something, and you promise not to judge me for it?"

Jake shot you a look that made you smile, placing your head between his collar and jaw.

"The night I opened her box, it was a week after you left, and I broke down," you felt Jake's arms tighten around your body. "I was so upset, I ripped these from my neck and threw them across the room."

You held Jake's tags out in front of you, thumbing the rubber casing around one of them.

"Sadie found me. I don't know if she was scared of the thunderstorm or heard me scream, but she got them and returned them to me."

"I didn't give them to you to cause you pain..."

You were quick to reassure him, placing a hand on his cheek and letting the tag fall back to your chest. "No, they didn't. They just... helped me see what I was doing to myself. And I missed you. So much."

Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead, stroking your bare leg.

"She wouldn't have given them back to me if she didn't want you in our lives, Jake," you continued. "All along, that's what she's been doing. Showing you she cares. Since you helped her with her math homework."

You cupped his face gently, ensuring he was focusing entirely on you. "She doesn't, Jake. She misses you. She cares for you. She loves you so much."

He chuckled softly, "I swear she knew half the answers after that first day but just wanted to spend time together."

"She's more astute than we give her credit for," You said with a grin, nuzzling closer to him.

"She's just.." he trailed off. "She's one hell of a kid."

You smiled softly. "She is," you agreed.

The two of you sat like that for a few more minutes, Jake holding you, letting his coffee cool. The two of you didn't say anything, nor you didn't need to. Both of you were simply content to be holding one another.

"Come on," you said, getting up and holding out your hand. He took it, bringing himself to a stand. "We should get ready before Nat arrives."

Jake wiggled his eyebrows, following you down the hall.

"You think we could manage a quickie?"

"Jacob Seresin, you are a horny beast!"

"Takes one to know one, Darlin'."

------

When you and Nat dropped Sadie off at camp the week prior, she promised she'd come with you to pick her up. However, when she arrived at your house an hour later, a stowaway was with her - which was ironic when you thought about it. Nearly a year ago, Jake had been in Rooster's shoes, standing apprehensively in front of your porch step.

You had never seen him look more out of his element than he did when you opened the door.

You had instantly shot her a look.

"It slipped out," Nat held her hands up in defence. You placed your hands on your hips, cocking your eyebrow. "Really? It slipped out?"

There was no malice behind your words. If Bradley wanted to come with you guys to pick up Sadie, you weren't going to stop him. You smiled at Bradley, nodding at him that it was okay that he was here. He relaxed, returning your smile.

Jake pressed a kiss to your temple before walking out to your porch and down the steps to join Bradley. Nat and you walked over to the railing, somewhat away from the two, watching them have their moment.

 She knocked your hip once, leaning over towards you to ask, "So I guess it was a good week."

"Why wouldn't it be?" you asked her confused.

"Cause you're walking funny and have a hickey twice as large as the first one you got. You did a shit job at covering up," she laughed.

You blushed, blubbering out, "Nat.. that's not.. I mean... What the hell do you mean I did a shit job?!"

She only continued to laugh, knocking your hip once again. "I guess you don't mind the anagram on his helmet now."

You sputtered, your mouth opening and closing like a fish, and Nat only relished in the innocent look on your face, trying to stop herself from drawing attention to the two of you.

Jake and Bradley, however, didn't hear the two of you. Bradley was too caught up in his head, trying to figure out what to say to him, and Jake was trying to come up with the words to properly thank him for saving his life.

"Bradshaw." 

Bradley looked him up and down, a smirk on his face. "You look good, Hangman. You know, despite the..." Bradley pointed to the healing bruise on the side of his face. It wasn't as nasty as before, but still an ugly yellow-brown shade.

"Yeah, well.." Jake remarked, taking his eyes off Bradley for a second before looking back. "For all I know, I have you to blame for that."

Bradley let out a small chuckle. "Yeah..."

A silence befell over the two, and Jake mulled over the right thing to say that would express his gratitude to Rooster, that he wouldn't take the wrong way.

"Thank you for bringing me back to her," his voice carrying sincerity unknown and rare to Bradley. "To them. For saving my life."

"You two okay?" Bradley asked, tilting his head towards you.

Jake glanced over to you and Nat, sharing a laugh over something, and Bradley caught the loving look as Jake settled his eyes on you. "Yeah, we are. More than okay."

Bradley looked away, the weight of everything he had done heavy in the air.

"I need to apologize to you, Jake."

Bradley's use of Jake's name, not this call sign, made him turn back, slightly shocked.

"I've given you, given the both of you a hard time. I... just wanted to protect them, you know? They've been through so much, and Sadie..." he stopped, struggling to find the words. Jake crossed his arms, staring pointedly at Rooster as he rambled.

"I was in Sadie's shoes at one point in my life. And I think from what I know about you now, you'd do anything not to have someone else go through what we've gone through to get here in our lives."

Jake nodded in agreement. "Can I ask you what made you change your mind?"

Bradley didn't look at him when a soft smile came over his face, and he remarked, "When I saved your life."

Jake barked out a laugh, shaking his head. Bradley joined him, soft chuckles escaping his chest.

"I never thought I'd be sitting by your bedside while waiting for an airlift, begging you not to die," he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"Would have solved all your problems if I did, right?" 

Bradley shook his head. "No, it wouldn't. I wasn't about to let Sadie or Liz experience the death of another person they loved.

"And?" Jake prompted, letting his voice drawl on.

"And I realized I was creating problems where there was none," he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "And projecting some shit onto you two."

Bradley wasn't about to admit to Jake his entire back story. That he was going to therapy, too, but something told him even if Jake knew, he wouldn't hold it against him.

He was seeing you, after all.

"You have every right to be in their lives. I'm sorry I assumed differently. If you make Liz and Sadie happy, I'm not going to stay in the way of that."

Jake scrunched up his nose, acting like he was contemplating his apology, before holding out his hand. It was not too unfamiliar from when he offered it after saving his and Maverick's life two years ago.

"Clean slate?"

Bradley cocked his eyebrow. "Really? A clean slate?"

"Just like that."

Rooster glanced at Jake's outstretched hand for a moment before taking it, gripping it tight and shaking it once. He went to let go, but Jake only tugged, making Bradley take a clumsy step forward, his shoulder almost meeting Jake's chest. He leaned over as if to pat him on the back, but instead, he tilted his head to say something into Bradley's ear.

"Just don't use me as a scapegoat this time to cover up the fact you're getting some."

Jake slapped him on the back hard, then stepped back as Bradley sputtered out a cough.

"Come on, boys!" Nat called out, having seen the interaction.

They turned back as you finished her shout, yelling out affectionately, "We have a Bug to go catch!"

------

Nobody protested when you asked if the four of you could stop by the thrift shop on the way to pick Sadie up. You had mentioned it had something to do with her birthday present, and nobody seemed to argue. Jake had only smiled, and Bradley and Nat instantly agreed, all too eager to see the famous store you and Ridley had found.

When the four of you entered the shop, Rooster, as you expected, practically ran to the vinyl section, Nat close on his heels to make sure he didn't break anything in his excitement.

Jake followed you to the counter, where you had to wait in line to see Mr. Murray. You honestly stupidly thought he would have gone off on his own, not follow you to the line. He couldn't see what you were doing; as much as this was a surprise for Sadie, this was a surprise for him too.

You had to think of something to get him to go away, and you had to do it fast.

Jake's hand was resting low on your hip when you turned and pressed your hands flat to his chest. Pulling yourself up, you lifted one of your hands to trace the outline of his lips with your fingers before you kissed him, slow and purposely. Lowering yourself back down, Jake's eyes remained closed until his brain caught up with him, and he found himself staring down at your lips.

"Shoo," you cooed at him with a grin. Jake raised his eyebrows. "Shoo? You want me to shoo?"

You nodded, pecking his lips again quickly in a bid to get him to leave you alone.

"Why? It's just Sadie's birthday present."

You bit your lip. There was no real reason he couldn't be there with you, and you didn't have a reply that wouldn't have given away her gift.

Deciding to take one out of Sadie's book instead, you slowly slid your hands down his back, cupping his ass, and squeezing hard once, leaning up to whisper into his ear, "No questions asked?"

Jake's groan vibrated in your ear. "I know what you're doing. And I know I'm at fault for it."

"Is it working?" you teased, sneakily taking his ear lobe between your teeth and letting go just as quickly. To any on-looker, it appeared as if you were simply whispering something in his ear.

"Still doesn't change the fact you're trying to get rid of me."

You slowly slid your mouth down, nipping the skin of his neck in a quick motion that made him hiss. You pulled back to take in the tiny mark, slightly proud of yourself.

"You're defiling government property, darlin'."

"You're not on duty, are you? That makes you mine."

"Oh, you're going to pay for that later."

"Am I?" you said, making sure your lips were just over his, just barely, enough so he might feel your breath but not your touch.

You weren't sure who this person was that Jake had awoken, but every time you found yourself in a position to tease Jake about something, you felt like those social media videos Sadie liked to watch with you, the ones where someone faked an "achievement unlocked" status above their head. Jake had no idea the power he had suddenly shown you.

He went to kiss you, but you dodged his attempt, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Go make sure Rooster doesn't break something. I'm sure that 45' Jerry Lee Lewis record is still there. He already plays Great Balls of Fire enough."

Jake grimaced. "Yup, no, thank you."

You patted him on his chest. Jake winked at you, turning on his heel, not before catching you mid-spin with a light slap to the meaty part of your ass. You yipped, jumping from where you stood, a hand covering the sting. Jake was already walking away with a shit-eating grin on his face, calling out, "Rooster! Hands off the classics!"

Looking up, you came face to face with Mr.Murray, his eyebrows raised. Heat flooded your cheeks more than it already had, and you felt like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Glad to see that one's safe and sound."

You blushed. "That was.. ah.. That was me..."

Mr. Murray shook his head, reassuring you. "My wife and I were like that at one point. Could barely keep our hands off each other. Still do to some extent."

"Mr. Murray," you blushed, stepping forward.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the patches ripped from Jake's ruined flight suit, secretly sliding them across the counter. Jake had saved what he could and asked you to throw out the rest. Little did he know you had other plans.

"Do you think you could fix them up? Do the thing we talked about?"

Mr. Murray looked down at the patches in your hand, taking them and smiling.

"For Sadie? Anything."

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

You knew there would be more moments in your life where you would feel immense pride for Sadie, each one topping the last. But watching her row her boat down that river, similar to how you and Ridley had done it as kids, would be something you'd never forget.

Her wanting to go to camp came from one of the polaroids Ridley left behind. You weren't sure who had managed to catch it, and the years had not been kind to the image, but Sadie wanted to know all the memories associated with that photo as you were pulling them out, deciding to preserve them in a scrapbook. You weren't shy about telling her. It was easier, having since opened her box, for you to talk about Ridley without clamming up.

In the end, she asked if she could go to camp like you and her mom did—specifically one where she could row her own boat down a river like that one.

The sunlight glinted off the water, shimmering as you leaned forward, a pair of binoculars held up to your face. Jake's knee bounced anxiously next to you, his eyes darting back and forth between the group and the river bend as Nat and Bradley carried on a separate conversation, waiting for Sadie's boat to come into view.

As you arrived, you had told the group that Sadie was taking part in this race before they could see her. Nat already knew, having made a poster with "Go Sadie Bug!" written across it in big colourful letters and splattered with ladybugs. It sat between the two of you, ready the second she appeared.

It was but a few more seconds before the boats made it around the corner, and you spied her and her teammate rapidly gaining on third place.

"There!" You cried out, letting the binoculars fall to your lap as you pointed. "In the red!"

Jake scanned the water, his heart thumping in his chest as the crowd started to pick up that the kids were nearing the end. His world momentarily narrowed to a mere pinpoint as he searched for one particular kid. A flash of red stood out from the rest, and Jake homed in on her small frame, leaning into every paddle stroke, fierce and determined.

All the uncertainty, the worry about whether she still resented him, evaporated. At that moment, Jake was filled with pride, seeing her giving her all out there on the water.

You were already on your feet by the time Jake stood, watching as Sadie and her teammate paddled vigorously, tied neck to neck with the team currently in third. Bradley leaned forward from his spot on the bleacher, muttering with confidence over and over, "She's got this. She's got this."

Beside him, Nat was unrolling her poster, the rubber band snapping in her excitement and eagerness, as she stood, throwing the piece of Bristol board over her head, letting out a shout.

Jake couldn't help but shout out his encouragement, even if she couldn't hear him from this distance or amongst the shouts of other parents. 

"Come on, Bug! Give them hell!"

The distance between the two canoes started to close, and with each powerful stroke, Sadie and her teammate pushed into third, leaving the other canoe in the wake of their water trail. And then, inch by inch, the two of them rapidly approached the other two canoes, currently tied neck and neck for first place.

Bradley's voice joined the others as he shot up and out of his seat. " That's it! Come on, Sadie! Come on!"

But you... you were suddenly overwhelmed, tears streaming down your face as your heart pounded away inside your chest because it wasn't Sadie you were seeing, but your sister, shouting back over her shoulder to encourage what appeared to be you, trying just as hard to see the two of you through to the finish line.

It was such a vivid memory, and you could almost hear her voice, her laughter, as she yelled for the two of you to keep paddling, as she now yelled for Sadie to keep paddling. You didn't shove it down as you might have done once before.

You embraced it.

You instinctively looked over to Jake, who was too focused on watching Sadie to see your eyes on him. His face was lit up with fierce pride and love, and seeing Jake's unwavering support, despite questioning if Sadie really cared for him or not, in your heart, you knew the two of you would always be safe with him.

Sadie was undeterred by the task in front of her. It was clear. The finish line was drawing close, and you couldn't help but reach out to grasp Jake and Nat's forearms.

Nat yelled, "She can do it! She's our bug!"

With a surge of energy, Sadie and her teammate closed the gap, drawing level with the leading canoe. Her face was lit up in sheer determination as she shouted out, using every ounce of energy she had left to push themselves forward, crossing the finish line a mere few seconds before the previous leaders.

You let out a cry, screaming for joy as Jake went for your waist, lifting you up towards the sky in celebration as he celebrated, letting out a shout. Nat was hugging Bradley as he let out a loud whistle in appreciation.

Even if he thought she hated him, Jake still lowered you to the ground and pulled you into his arms, giving you an overly excited kiss and exclaiming how proud he was of her.

After everything she had been through, after everything she had to face this past year, you were proud of her, too.

The four of you escaped the bleachers, making your way down to the docks where you were meant to pick her up. Jake held your hand, eyes nervously scanning the crowd of kids staring to find their parents.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and you squeezed his hand once, swinging it back and forth. "You okay?"

Jake opened his mouth, ready to answer you, before Nat suddenly jumped and squealed, "There she is!" pointing to Sadie on the boardwalk below.

The four of you watched as she made her way up the dock, a red ribbon in hand, as she laughed and celebrated with her friend. You smiled, letting go of Jake's hand to step forward and join Nat at the peek of the hill so she would find you easily.

Rooster stepped forward to get a better view, but he still stayed behind with Jake, who remained where he was, currently clenching and unclenching his fists.

He didn't know if he was ready for this.

Sadie was saying goodbye to her friend when she realized you and Nat would have been in the crowd with everyone else. She thought she had seen someone holding a poster with Lady Bugs on it, but she had only gotten a quick peek before she had to concentrate on the finish line.

She leaned up on the edges of her shoes, scanning the crowd with a hopeful gaze. She knew you'd be here. You promised you would, and you never broke a promise.

A big smile appeared across her face when she finally found you and Nat waving at her on top of the hill. She picked herself up into a run, giggling like anything and everything.

You dropped to your knees, prepared to catch her in one of her overly dramatic hugs that would have you failing to the ground if you weren't ready. But then she stopped dead in her tracks, a gasp escaping her lips. Her face started to red, blue eyes wide and watering, and her bottom lip was begging to tremble as she looked past you.

Concerned, you followed her gaze, realizing she had caught sight of Jake and Bradley standing behind you.

"Oh, Bug," Nat cooed next to you. But you knew, right away, who warranted that reaction.

Jake caught sight of her, a hopeful yet apprehensive look on his face. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, awaiting what he thought to be the ultimate reprimand and lowest point in his life. Because everything was waiting on this moment, despite his apology, despite working his way back to the two of you, if Sadie didn't want him here, if she didn't want him in her life, he would walk away.

It was the longstanding promise to put her first. Her feelings mattered above all else.

But the ribbon she had won slipped from her hand at her side, falling to the ground, forgotten. She stumbled backwards a few steps as her mind caught up with the sight. Sadie couldn't believe it. Because everyone she had ever cared about, one way or another, had been taken away from her beyond anyone's control.

Uncle Jake was here.

He came back.

He was alive.

He was home.

"Uncle Jake!" She cried out, finally propelling herself into a run, going straight past Nat, you, and forgoing Bradley entirely to beeline it to him. The tension released from Jake's shoulders as he dropped to his knees into the dirt, holding out his arms to take the crying girl into his arms.

Sadie couldn't help but throw herself at him, launching her tiny body and wrapping her arms and legs around him only to borrow her head into his neck.

Jake's vision blurred, tears starting to form as he dropped his chin to her shoulder. He cradled her close, letting out a shaky exhale, his grip matching Sadie's tight. The two of them were terrified either one might vanish if they let go. The weight of everything he'd faced, the danger, the near-death, it all paled in comparison to this moment of pure joy and absolute relief.

Sadie did want him in your lives after all.

You could faintly make out the words from him as he cooed over her sobs, "I'm here, Bug. I'm here."

You stood, walking over and kneeling down next to them. You placed a hand on Jake's back and rested the other on Sadie's. Jake lifted his head to look at you, and you were surprised to see his eyes watering. The sight of him holding Sadie, moved by her missing him, brought tears to your eyes.

"Why are you crying, Bug?" You soothed, trying to stop your own voice from breaking.

She pulled back from Jake's neck to look at you. Despite her blotched face and tears, a smile was etched across her face as she blubbered out, "He came home."

Her statement wasn't lost on you. Ridley never made it home to her that night. The family you guys had found was made up of people who flirted with death daily. For as long as they flew, there would always be the chance one of them would never make it home.

"Of course, I made it home, Bug," Jake said, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. "I had to make it home to both of my girls."

Sadie buried her face into the fabric of his shirt, weeping, and you watched as he fought with himself not to cry.

Then she started to giggle through her sniffles, happiness starting to replace her sadness. She curled her head to the side against his chest, gripping his shirt tight between her tiny fingers and taking a few deep breaths.

She didn't want to let him go.

"I love you, Uncle Jake."

You had to wipe your eyes, knowing exactly where that came from.

Jake slammed his eyes shut. "I love you too, Bug."

He was in it for the long run. There was no question about it.

Sadie sharply lifted her head, looking at you, then at Jake, back and forth several times, her mouth hanging loosely open.

"Wait..are you two back together now?"

You nodded. "Are you okay with that?"

It was redundant to ask, but you still needed to anyway.

You could see the gears grinding in her head, working up a quick-witted response only she could come up with. Then you noticed the second the idea popped into her head, fighting to prevent the corners of her mouth from turning upward.

She tried to relax her face, but she was failing miserably. Jake caught on when she tried to become stoic, and his cheeky grin widened with each second that passed. She had done this to him once before, and he wasn't about to be caught in her trap for a second time.

Then a grin stretched across her face, reminding you so much of Ridley.

"Finally. My job here is over."

Little matchmaker, indeed.

You gasped affectionately, playing along as if you didn't know she had been trying to get the two of you together. "Why, you little..."

You attacked her with your fingers, tickling her stomach. Jake tried to contain his laughter as she started to squirm in his arms, shouting out, "Save me, Uncle Jake! Save me!"

Jake tried to lean back to keep her out of your path, but despite his reassurance, his back hadn't returned to being almost 100 percent. It spasmed, causing him to lose his balance off his knees. Sadie screamed, reaching for the only thing she could, which happened to be you, tugging on the front of your shirt.

Your breath caught in your throat as you fell with them, Jake securely tightening his arm around Sadie's back as she fell onto his chest while reaching out for you. He took the brunt of your fall, you landing on the opposite side of his chest, and Jake groaned, tilting his head back against the ground to the sky, laughing.

Nat gathered Sadie's ribbon off the ground, coming to stand next to Bradley, who was watching the three of you with an affectionate smile.

"Damn it, Rooster," Nat teased, knocking his side with hers. "It looks like you've been replaced."

Bradley shook his head.

When Sadie first came to live with you, each of the Daggers had found something to share with her. Nat and her loved sports, and Bob listened to her gush about bugs. Maverick did anything and everything fun and semi-dangerous with her. Fanboy and Payback loved playing games with her, and Coyote was simply there when she needed him. For Bradley, it had been sharing their grief at losing a parent.

But Jake... It wasn't Jake offering Sadie anything. It was Sadie who held out her hand and took him under her tiny arm. Sadie, who offered him her love with no questions asked.

He was never at risk of being replaced, never at risk of losing her love or her playing favourites. Sadie simply cared for everyone and everything thing.

It's just who she was.

"You know what, Nat, I don't mind," He replied, fondly looking at Jake, Sadie and you, now sharing a hug.

"As much as he needs Liz, he needs Sadie too."

I'm crying. There's only one more left 😭💛

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Part 23 - Sleep Deprivation, the final part, coming soon 😭

Wickett

#horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #damn those dog tags #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake series #dtdt #jake and liz #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun smut

[horseshoegirl]

Forever After All - Masterlist

Cowboy (Bronc Rider) Jake Seresin AU

❗️18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting this fic, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials, is strictly forbidden without my written consent. Be a decent human being, and don't steal people's work.

🏷️ Slow burn, strong language, Bronc Rider Jake, Western-Rodeo Style Drama, angst, ex-lovers to lovers, horses, relationship issues, Eventual Smut, Hurt, Minor gun shootouts, suspected infidelity, depictions of violence, unresolved tension (emotional, sexual, romantic), and poaching.

📜Summary: Returning home was never in the cards for you. You wanted to forget it all: the ranch, the horses, the life… and especially the man who broke your heart. But your older sister is about to get married, and you are her maid of honour. You know you have to swallow your pride if you want to be there for her. Because in the three years you've been gone, Jake Seresin still worked on your family's ranch, fixing fences and riding broncs. You haven't seen him since the night you left, and if you had it your way, you never wanted to again.

🎶 Playlist

A03 | Wattpad

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

______________________________________________________________

Masterlist:

Part 1 - Staring Over

Part 2 - Stetson

Part 3 - Hey Good Lookin'

Part 4 - Burn it to the ground.

Part 5- Something in the Orange

Part 6 -Hearts Content

Part 7 - Bottom of the River

Part 8 -Salt and the Sea

Part 9 - Will the Circle Be Unbroken

Part 10 - If I go, I'm going

Part 11 - I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Part 12 - How to Save a Life

Part 13 - Where's My Love

Part 14 - Forever, Now

Part 15 - Losing Hold

Part 16 - Cover me up

Part 17 - Fortunate Son

Part 18 - Forever After All

_____________________________________________________________

Main Masterlist

#horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin au #FAF #Forever Afterall #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #jake x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin imagine #Cowboy Jake #Jake Seresin AU #Jake Seresin Angst #Jake and Sam

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 20 - Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

📜 Everyone wants Jake's reaction to Liz's risky photo. 👀😂Well, you got it... and something else... Let me put it this way: I have to take my chance where I can....

❗+18, sexual themes, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child character, deployments, letters, verbal fights, hurricanes, near-death experiences, angst, Don't read if you have Thalassophobia/Aquaphobia cause Jake and Bradley... well, you'll find out, intense moments of peril/disaster.

#7.4k words

Part 19 | Masterlist | Part 21

Hangman could hear his breath, the mechanical exhale and hiss, through his oxygen mask as he finally set his eyes on the carrier alone out at sea.

The tension in his shoulders released, and the weight that had been pressing him down since he and Rooster launched this morning lifted slightly.

"Rooster, where are you?"

"Right behind you, Hangman," came his crackled tense reply.

The attack on the facility had been gruesome and extremely time-sensitive. They only had a few seconds to spare in reaching their destination should there have been any reason for a delay. It was one of the few things he had worried about when they were being briefed, worried if the same ghost that had haunted Rooster on the uranium mission would resurface yet again.

Thankfully, it didn't, and the pair of them managed to get to the target well on time, just to take down two enemy fighter jets before they had even managed to get above the hard deck line.

It might have helped the attack happened right around dawn when nobody was least expecting it—three weeks at sea for an hour in the sky. And the worst of what they thought would happen and what they had prepared for didn't.

You and Sadie had been with him the entire time, your polaroids pinned in his cockpit near the control panel. They were the same ones he had before, the one Sadie took of you and the other of Sadie standing in front of the F-18. 

He was looking at them now, between you, Sadie and his navigational beacon, knowing that the second his wheels hit the upper deck, he'd be that much closer to going home.

Hangman was cleared to land, his radio buzzing with the familiar voice of the control tower as he approached the tiny runway. He adjusted the F-18's flaps, feeling the jet respond instantly beneath him, knowing it wasn't over yet, not until both he and Rooster were safely on board.

He took a steadying breath, the sound echoing in his mask as he said to himself in his head, 'Make it perfect. For them."

The back wheels touched down flawlessly, catching the arresting wire with a strong tug. Jake felt himself being pulled forward out of his seat, the straps of his harness tight on his chest. But the second his back hit the chair, he finally felt like he could breathe. The weight on his chest dissipated, and Jake couldn't help the smug grin.

He was finally in the clear.

"Nice landing," he heard the landing officer say through the radio. Jake, taxing himself to the elevator on deck, watched as the officer gave him a thumbs up from the runaway below.

"What can I say? When you're good, you're good," his cheeks hurt from the edges of his mask, grin wide as he cockily gave a two-fingered salute.

If Jake heard the following tense groan coming out of his radio, he didn't let on.

Parking the jet on the elevator strip, Jake watched as he was lowered down into the ship's hanger bay, looking for his designated mechanic as he turned off the flight system. The second he reached the ground, he guided the machine into its designated spot, turning it off completely.

He popped the canopy open before going for his helmet, unstrapping the buckles with haist. He went for one of the pockets on his harness, reaching into the tight space to grab at the zip-locked bag, placing it on top of his helmet before reaching for the polaroids of you and Sadie. Holding both between his thumb, he brought them to his lips, kissing the images simultaneously before placing them safely inside the bag where they belonged.

As Jake stepped down the ladder, a mechanic greeted him, readying a list of questions as Jake started up his post-flight checks.

"It's a good thing you guys finished when you did. Radar points to a tropical storm coming in tonight."

Jake raked his fingers through his hair, trying to combat the sweat. "So we got confirmation we are moving out?"

The mechanic nodded, not bothering to lift his head as he dug for his notepad. "The second you guys were called back. We're already on route to base."

The news only added to his high spirits. Today was a good day.

He was going home.

As Jake answered all the mechanic's questions while checking the jet, out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Bradley's jet ascended down the elevator and rolled into its resting spot. Bradley popped his canopy, climbing out, sliding down the ladder and high-fiving his mechanic, smiling.

He had no idea where the urge, or dare he say courage, came from when he finished walking over to Bradley as he was finalizing his post-flight routine.

Jake waited till Bradley said his last word before approaching him. Jake held out his hand, his voice clear over the commotion, as he said, "Good job flying out there, Bradshaw."

Bradley glanced at Jake's outstretched hand, then to his face, his expression inscrutable. There was a palpable pause, a pregnant beat of tension, before Bradley deliberately rested his hand on the side of his jet, ignoring Jake's overstretched hand completely.

"Don't think one mission changes everything," Bradley replied tersely, eyes sharp and focused.

His reply didn't deter Jake. In fact, he only smirked, lowering his hand. "Didn't think it would. I just wanted to see if you had the balls to acknowledge a job well done. By the way, I went to Liz and apologized. Something you probably never imagined I'd do."

Bradley scoffed, a short, derisive laugh escaping him. "You think an apology is your ticket to redemption? You must have been more rattled up there than I thought. She'd never forgive you after a stunt like that."

Jake bit his lip, contemplating what you or Sadie might say to Rooster at this moment.

So, in a rare second of honesty, in front of his rival, Jake answered Bradley.

"I never expected her to accept my apology, Bradshaw. But I had to try. For her. For Sadie." Jake paused, looking solemn before continuing on. "You know what it's like, leaving on a deployment, not sure when or if you're going to come back. I had to try, and believe it or not, I want to try to get along with you for both their sakes. It's what they would want."

Jake lifted his hand once again, hoping Rooster would take it. But Bradley didn't, nor did he reply. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jake to bow his head and drop his hand once again, not knowing if he should sigh or roll his eyes. At this point, it was frugal to think Bradley would ever change his ways.

Least of all for him.

...

"Seresin! Bradshaw! You have mail!"

Jake looked up from his plate just in time to see the communications officer slam a white envelope down to the empty space in front of him. The officer continued her journey down to the other end of the table to Rooster, tossing a nearly identical envelope into his outstretched hands.

Bradley hadn't spoken a word to him since the hanger earlier, not that Jake expected him to. The mess hall wasn't necessarily the friendliest place, and while Jake couldn't have cared less about whether or not he was making friends, he and Bradley tended to stick together silently. They didn't really speak to each other, though. Even when they had to bunk together.

It's funny how deployments did that.

Jake slid his tray over to the side, reaching out to grab the thick piece of paper between his hands and inspecting the front.

White was probably the wrong word to use. The envelope looked like it had a rough time getting to him. There were dirt marks and scuffed-up edges, several post stamps thrown uncaringly on the front. Even a few water marks, which made sense, considering a gust front was currently pounding the upper deck.

What stood out to Jake, though, was your handwriting still perfectly intact. He'd recognize it anywhere.

Lt. Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Jake flipped it over, not expecting to see the words written across the back.

This is everything I didn't say

Jake pulled himself back in his seat, only to realize he had a pair of eyes on him. He looked over to Bradley, noticing how the chicken was staring at the object in Jake's hands. He had already opened his, two pieces of lined paper on the table in front of him.

"From Liz?" Jake finally asked, tilting his head towards Bradley's letter. Rooster looked back down at his, staring at the front. "Sadie, actually."

As if that didn't sting a little bit, Jake thought. Bradley looked back up, eyes fixed on the one in Jake's hands. "Liz?" he asked. It was almost sombre.

Jake tore his eyes away from Bradley to trace your cursive writing with his fingers. "Yeah."

There was something to be said about receiving letters or packages from family and loved ones while in service. Regardless of whether or not Jake and Bradley were on the outs, no one ever dared to mock this particular part of their job. Hearing word from the other side, the outside world, was something sacred, and Bradley knew better than to hold it against Jake- even if he did break your heart.

You had chosen to write him that letter. There was nothing he could really do about it - like he even had a choice. Bradley had to pick and choose his moments where he could.

Jake finally broke the seal, immediately going for the folded-up pieces of paper inside. He let the envelope drop, the sound heavy as it hit the table, and Jake knew you had probably stuffed polaroids inside.

He unfolded your pages and began to read.

Jake,

Everything became still the moment my sister passed away. I keep remembering, picturing it like hands on a clock, having counted the seconds away before finally coming to a stop. The days didn't matter. My next thought, my only thought, was Sadie. Then you came into my picture, our picture, and cheesily enough, that seconds hand on that metaphorical clock started to tick.

I can’t lie; I knew you'd break through my walls the first time I saw you. Not in the Hard Deck that day, but when you were playing football on the beach, me watching you from Penny’s chair. I knew who you were instantly.

Because you had a rep, and everyone had warned me about you - Womanizer.

But I knew the second you spoke to me, the second I had turned around after fixing that damn keg, seeing that mona lisa smile of yours (Yes - I have been calling it that and no, your ego does not need to grow two more sizes because of it), my heart was screaming, Hello, I love you.

(Those are in reference to a song; they don't count just yet).

I have a confession to make, which is partly why I wanted to write you this particular letter.

I put up a wall between you and myself then and there. I think that's the only secret I've ever kept from you. Because as much as I knew something was probably going to happen between the two of us, whatever it would have been, I knew you had the power to devastate my heart completely.

I didn’t get your name that day. Not until you showed up on my doorstep with my favourite flowers, asking me to forgive you, and you sat out in my backyard with everyone singing along to Southern Nights.

The first crack in the wall started when you followed me inside, helping me with the dishes. You were honest with me that night, not the person I thought you to be, and I realized you were putting on a show for others to see. And when I showed up in that long cool black dress at the hard deck that day, and you taught my klutzy ass how to throw a dart, the wall cracked further.

(I can hear you as I write, Jake Seresin. Saying I love your ass, don't diss my ass. Stop making everything sexual, you horny beast.)

Sadie knew it, too... that my walls were cracking. She sees everything. It's why she invited you on that damn hike. And there is also a part of me wondering if Ridley sent that damn sake from wherever she is now, hoping to get the two of us together - it would be something she'd do if she had the power…if she was able to rule the world to make it happen.

Then, all of you guys were deployed. And everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.

I don't know if three little birds told me things were going to be alright back then, but I somehow knew, deep down, they would be -  even if you fly like you have nothing to lose and everything to prove. You don't, not to me. And oh, what a night it was when you came home.

I wanted you to kiss me that night. But I'm glad you didn't. Because the night I drifted away in your arms, you might as well have shot a missile from your F-18 and made my walls crumble almost completely.

Almost. Because what truly did it was when you let Sadie hang on to you during that thunderstorm. How you cared for her and told her it was going to be okay. How good you were with her and how you might be with your own. I will never stop saying how much that meant to me- what it still means to me.

Then you rammed me up against my hallway, and I had to really hang on for dear life.

(I just realized we never talked about our futures on our first date. We were too busy screaming Let's dance to figure out if Marriage/Kids, etc., were on the table - if they are something you want. Cause I'm all in Jake, whether we do or not. All I know is that I want to be with you - you and Sadie are enough.)

Then someone made himself known, and hell would have to freeze over before I mentioned his name in a letter to you - Dream on asshole. But you loved, yes loved, me through my worst moments, Sadie's worst moments. When I sang as a Blue healer for my feelings deep blue, when sons and daughters of people long gone raged, and I had to hide in my bathtub, waiting till it was all over.

When you showed me it was okay to live and experience life through the bad moments, that it was okay to remember my sister, even in the rays of a sunset from the sky. And when you made me want to scream sex on fire, cause damn Jake, we definitely weren't taking things slow.

I won't mention the 'incident' with George or how much rain I saw when Bradley drove me home. I know; I've always known how much generational trauma you've carried in your blood throughout your entire life. I will say, though, out of all the songs that had to play on the jukebox the night things for Sadie and I finally came to an end, it had to be Come a little bit closer. (That pissed me off, you have no idea, Jake.... stop laughing, you asshole).

And although it’s been weeks for me since you left me standing at the end of my driveway, after you apologized and I felt like a Sapling, searching for an Oak, watching you drive off to go our separate ways for a small length of time, being worlds apart, I’m counting down the minutes, the hours, the seconds till I can tell you what you need to hear.

Because My sister had a box. A just-in-case box. Filled with letters, objects, and memories. I finally opened it, with Sadie, of course, on an evening I will never soon forget. I don't want a repeat of that. Of me finally visiting Ridley and reading her letter, her last words to me on her grave.

I don't want that to be us.

So Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, after breaking down my walls not once but twice, I will not write those three words down in this letter. I'd rather tell you in person. So I can see your face when I do. I’m a fair lady - if you wanted me to wait to tell you until you are home, I’m waiting till you come home.

So much of our relationship started backwards. A first kiss before the first date, an extended sleepover before the first touch. We made a promise to each other, not already realizing we had already broken it.

So, sir, if you think the second I see your face, I'm not going to try to jump you, drag you home and lock Sadie out of my bedroom, you can kiss this idea of going slow out the window. Life's too short to go slow when... well, you'll find out soon enough.

And I know you think Sadie doesn’t want to see you again. That's she's still mad at you and will be forever mad for what happened. But I know for a fact the second she sees you, she will jump into your arms. You’re her uncle - you count more than you’ll ever know. 

And while sleep deprivation is my remaining side effect from dealing with the grief I’ve shouldered, I know part of it involves counting down the days for when I can fall asleep with you next to me.

And maybe even doing something else ;)

Your darlin' Elizabeth

P.S. Sadie wanted to send some Polaroids - I promise you, she doesn't hate you, but I know you're still going to think otherwise until you come home. We went on a hike, so there are probably some bug-themed ones in there... I'm sorry for what you see... so if you have anyone lurking over your shoulder, you might want to be careful. They aren't for everyone.

You were right about one thing: he was still so sure Sadie had it out for him. The day she had cornered him at the beach haunted his thoughts. The look and level of disappointment she had on her face would forever remain imprinted in his head.

Yet, he still wiped at his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest. He reached into the envelope and grabbed at the small stack.

The first few were from the hike you mentioned; Sadie chose one of you, sitting on the same rock she had done last year. He still had the photo he took on his phone. There were some ones with bugs, no question about it. But they weren't random ones, either.

There was one of Sadie surrounded by what looked like to be monarchs. Jake had never seen her look so happy, her smile wide and beautiful, and he couldn't help the grin on his face looking down at the image.

But when Jake went to slide the image of Sadie behind the others, he did a double take, quickly hiding the following polaroid from view.

You wouldn't have, he thought. There was no way.

Jake glanced around the hall, turning the collection of pictures down to face the table in his hands, wondering if anyone had seen what he had seen. But next to Bradley, who was too engrossed in his own letter even to lift his head, the hall had cleared itself out, leaving the two of them practically alone.

Hesitantly lifting his hands, Jake slid Sadie's photo over, carefully peering down at the image of you.

You. On your bed. Half naked.

You seemed carefree, leaning back on your bed, damp tendrils of your hair half clinging to your face, half covering the sharp lines of your neck. Oh, how many times he had kissed that neck, and now, seeing it on display, only for him - Jake had to draw in a sharp breath.

And his dog tags hanging between your half-bare breasts, framed by the silk of your robe, glinting in the soft, warm sunlight from your bedroom window. And written along the bottom... Come home and take them back ;)

You cheeky... Jake could feel the heat rush to his face: surprise, desire, and pure pride. He was thousands of miles away, and you found yet another way to remind him of what awaited him when he got home.

The Mona Lisa smile, as you had so deemed, spread wide across his face as he whispered to himself in one ragged breath, "Damn, Liz."

He felt himself getting hard just looking at you.

He'd send you a message when they were closer to American soil, hoping you and Sadie would be there to greet him. But more importantly, if you'd make plans for Penny to take Sadie that night. Cause fuck the lock on your bedroom door. He wanted to find out all the ways he could make you scream for him, all the sounds you had yet to make for him.

Until then, Jake climbed into his bunk that night, reading your letter over and over, staring at the photo you had gifted him, wondering and coming up with all the ways the two of you would celebrate his homecoming. Because lying on that narrow bunk, he couldn't stop his rampant thoughts.

He could almost feel the silk of your robe against his fingertips, the wet strands of your hair brushing against his palms, and the warmth of your skin. And those fucking dog tags he gave you, nestled between the soft curves of your breasts - everything made a fierce heat coil in the lower half of his stomach.

Jake shifted uncomfortably, the rough sheets tangling around his legs, the damp are doing little to soothe his fevered skin. He rolled over into his pillow, trying to summon any other thought but that photo - anything to take his mind off the overwhelming feeling of pure want that consumed him.

You were there, in every corner he turned to, beckoning him with both those innocent and mischievous glint in your eyes, making him crave the day he finally came home. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to find some semblance of calm against the lust you had ignited within him.

But falling asleep, his dreams were only filled with you. And all the ways he'd finally have you cumming on his cock.

...

Jake jolted awake to the sound of a high-pitched beeping in his ears, almost hitting the bunk above his. His stomach felt uneasy, like it had been flipped upside down, and every sense was screaming at him something was wrong. He was off balance, unable to ground himself to a solid point.

He hated not being in control.

Rooster shouted from the bunk above, and Jake pressed himself against the tiny wall as he felt himself tilted hard to the side, masked by a shutter that shook their entire room.

Bradley wasn't as lucky, rolling straight out of his bed and landing hard on the ground with a massive thunk. Jake wanted to laugh, but even he couldn't stop the grimace as he heard the sound.

Bradley groaned a long, pitful sound, lifting himself to rest on his hands. "What the hell is going on?!"

"What do you think, Bradshaw? You've never been stuck in a storm on a deployment before?"

He knew he shouldn't be so snarky with Bradley, but this morning had left him in a sour mood. Not to mention, the storm was but another obstacle in his path stopping him from getting home sooner.

It was going to be a long night.

Bradley sat up, about to reply with a remark just as snarky, when the PA system blared above their heads.

All currently available personnel report to the lower decks for assistance. I repeat all currently available personnel report to the lower decks for assistance.

Jake tore out of bed, and Bradley stood sharply, both reaching for their fight suits, putting them on in a rush. As Bradley laced his boots, Jake reached for your letter and picture on his bed, quickly shoving them inside the packet he had in his chest pocket with the other Polaroids.

He didn't know if and when he'd be back here.

As the pair emerged from their room, they had to dodge multiple people flying past in a mass panic, trying to get to their respective stations. The added struggle of not knowing what the carrier was going to throw at them next also didn't help. All Jake and Bradley knew was that, given a storm, let alone even in a hurricane, they needed to be down at the lower docks, reinforcing the restraints on the Jets.

The ship groaned, then shook, the floor vibrating beneath their feet.

"What the hell was that?" Bradley shouted, his voice strained with concern. Jake struggled to steady himself, gripping a nearby railing. His Texian accent was strong as he shouted his reply, "It doesn't matter. Let's just get to the hanger bay!"

It was pure chaos the second they arrived. Bright flashing red emergency lights, crew members scrambling in every direction. Next to the high-pitched alarm going off every other second, the ship continued to creak and groan, rocking enough that Jake and Bradley had to steady themselves.

"Get the damn secondary restraints on the F-18s!" A senior official shouted as they passed. Jake and Bradley's 'Yes, sir' only seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The pair raced towards the first jet, stopping momentarily to assist what they needed to do. Jake's voice was barely audible above the chaos. "We need to get the secondary straps down and make sure the wheel jacks are in place!"

Bradley shot him a disdainful look. "Thanks for stating the obvious. I was about to suggest a picnic."

Jake gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to snap back. "Not now, Bradshaw."

Bradley only rolled his eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

As they began to secure the planes, the ground started to tilt enough to throw them off balance if they weren't careful. Jake and Bradley tried to brace themselves as one adjusted the straps while the other secured the wheel jacks.

A cry for help managed to break through the alarms and shouts, and both turned towards the sound. Bradley was closest, shouting out, "I got it!" before running off, not bothering to hear Jake's reply.

The sound of a wire recoiling, snapping hard like a whip through the air, startled Jake, making him turn sharply. A wooden crate, the height of his chest, had broken loose from its net, sliding directly towards him.

Bracing himself, Jake charged forward, holding out his hands to stop it from crashing into the jet behind him. He grunted hard as the wood slammed into his palms. Jake used as much strength as he could gather, baring his teeth and straining his muscles, to push the crate back towards where it came from.

Jake's mechanic from before suddenly appeared next to him, helping him push the crate back into the relative safety of the net.

"What the hell is going on?!" Jake shouted over the alarm system. The mechanic continued to work as he replied, "Everything! The whole ship is going to hell! We've got engine failure. Some of the airlock doors won't seal properly on the lowest deck, and to fucking top it off, one of the ballast tanks is compromised! In a fucking hurricane!"

That would explain the rocking, Jake thought, as the ship titled back, allowing for the create to easily slide back into its original spot with no more effort. The mechanic knotted the net through a few metal loops on the ground while Jake rested his hands on his knees, bent over and panting hard.

The second he finished, the mechanic left Jake standing there as he was called off towards another task.

Jake straightened, looking around to see where he was needed next, his eyes instantly landing on Rooster, who was dealing with his own crate. He ran towards him, using his weight to help Bradley push the crate back and away into its designated spot.

The two managed to secure it, and struggling to catch his breath, Bradley glared at Jake. "Didn't need your help."

"Of course, you didn't," Jake retorted, frustration evident.

"I had it handled."

"Right," Jake panted.

"Always gotta be the hero, don't you, Hangman?" Rooster grumbled.

Whatever had encouraged him to reach an olive branch earlier was long gone. Whether it was Rooster's words or the situation, Jake simply had enough.

He hit Bradley square in his chest with both hands, sending him backwards a few steps. "Okay, what's your damn problem with me, Bradshaw?!"

"Now?!" Bradley shouted, ready to fight it out. "You want to do this now?"

"Good as time as any!" Jake remarked, throwing his hands to the side in open invitation. He was tired of Rooster's animosity, of the constant back and forth, but damn if he wasn't ready for the confrontation.

"What is it? My call-sign? What I did to earn it!?" Jake cocked his head, stepping to the side, causing the two pilots to circle each other. "Or is it what I said about your old man two years ago?! You didn't even let me finish, so I couldn't have said anything that truly pissed you off. And you know what, not that it matters, but I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings."

The floor shook beneath their feet, but neither man seemed phased. Bradley only fisted his hands tighter with each remark that passed Jake's lips.

"Or is it Liz? Sadie? The fact they welcomed me in with open arms, loved me, and there wasn't a hell of a thing you could have to stop it?"

The surrounding chaos only seemed to amplify Bradley's longstanding irritation with Jake. Bradley stalked forward, slamming his hands to Jake's chest and returning the favour.

"It's everything! Everything you stand for!" he shouted, his nostrils flaring hard. "Don't you dare say Sadie's name, not when I know you are going to leave that little girl out to dry. I won't have it, Hangman!

Recognition flashed in Jake's eyes, and he knew, he understood right then, amongst all the chaos and panic, the lengths any one of the Daggers would go to make sure their bug was loved and protected above all else.

It had never been about you. It had always, always been about Sadie.

"Sadie?!" he shouted. "That's the reason?"

Jake clenched his fists, struggling to find the words. "You think I would ever abandon Sadie? Or Liz? You've seen me, day in and day out, fighting for them, fighting fucking Tyler, fighting to get back to them. I would die before they were hurt. Before any one of you were hurt."

"But you did! The second your brother asked you to." Bradley's voice hardened. "Answer me this: in the heat of the moment, when you're faced with a choice, can you honestly tell me you'd put them first?"

Tyler and everything he had wrought flashed in Bradlely's mind, but he pressed on.

"Not your pride, not your ego, but them? Or any of us. Unasked or not on the job! Cause I know you wouldn't!"

Jake reeled back, Bradley's words hitting him hard. But Bradley didn't falter. His face was still lit up with all the pent-up anger and frustration he held for Jake since the day he got his call sign.

"I see the man behind the show, the guy who thinks he's invincible. But you're not." Bradley pointed his finger. "Until you prove otherwise, I won't trust you with them. Not with Sadie. Not with Liz. Not with any of us."

Jake opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from the officer who gave them orders before interrupted him.

"You two, Top Gun! Quit standing around and go to the communications office and see where we are at with our navigation systems!"

Bradley stomped past Jake without another word, leaving him to silently fume for a few seconds before following him out of the hanger.

In the dimly lit, claustrophobic corridors of the carrier, the metallic walls groaned, strained by the might of the storm. Water or steam, they weren't sure which, was starting to pool in patches along the floor. With each wave and rock the ship encountered, the intermittent jolts sent the two pilots grasping for whatever was nearest to stay upright as they tried to make it to the communications office.

Following Bradley, Jake felt a spike of irritation. 'Why's he got to make everything so damn personal?' Jake thought bitterly. Bradley, meanwhile, was a simmering pot of anger.

"Why do you always have to be right in the middle of everything, Hangman?" Bradley shot over his shoulder, clearly irritated. "Can't you just once follow orders without making it about you?"

Jake gritted his teeth, trying to hold back a retort. "Look, can we just get to the comms and figure this out? We can bicker like an old married couple later."

Bradley's face twisted in a smirk, his pace never faltering. "Don't flatter yourself. I have standards."

A loud klaxon sounded, the eerie wail echoing through the narrow halls of the carrier. Jake and Bradley covered their ears, falling into the walls.

The second they managed to pull themselves up onto their feet, the PA system blared out another warning.

Begin bail-out and evacuation procedures. I repeat, Begin bail-out and evacuation procedures. All personnel should be on the upper decks in five minutes.

Jake turned to Bradley, his face filled with urgency. "We need to go! Now!"

Bradley snarled. He had no idea whether it was out of frustration with the current situation or Jake barking orders at him. But Jake was having none of it, grabbing Bradley hard by the collar of his suit and tugging him hard.

Jake's eyes were hard and furious as he remarked, "I'm not dying today, and neither should you."

Something flashed in Bradley's eyes that Jake could not name. But it was enough to give Bradley pause, water droplets running down his face as the anger and tension decided to leave him from earlier.

"We need to get home! For the girls," Jake roughed out. "For Liz and Sadie! Whatever hate you have towards me, we need to get out for them. Now!"

Another name came to Bradley's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, even now. Instead, Bradley could only sallow and nod. He couldn't deny Jake was right.

It was damn near impossible to sink an aircraft carrier. Jake and Bradley knew this. The things were built to withstand the roughest seas, hurricanes included. They were the most balanced and sturdiest things that ever graced any body of water on this planet. They had to be if aviators were literally landing planes on them.

But as water continued to breach the carrier, and as the pair raced through the ship to get to a proper stairwell that would get them to the relief point on the upper decks, they both wondered about the series of unfortunate events that led them to this point. The mechanics in the hangar bay had said everything was going wrong.

Bradley was on the verge of saying sabotage, wondering if they had a spy amongst their ranks. The mission had gone so much better than they had thought. But in their line of work, if something suspicious didn't happen, then their job wasn't over.

Jake just wanted to get both of them out of there.

They finally reached one of the escape hatches, a stairwell that led directly to the upper deck. Bradley was the one to turn the wheel on the door first, Jake joining in shortly after once he realized the sheer force Rooster was putting into opening the door.

A pressure vale released, and the second the two managed to open the door, Jake surged forward, followed by Bradley, who made their way into the narrow stairwell, hoping all had not been lost.

Jake paused on the small landing, looking up at the flights guided by the emergency light. There were a few fires scattering the walls, but it was climbable, and if both of them hurried, they wouldn't have any issues.

Bradley's hand on his shoulder made him pause.

"Dude, we have to book it."

Jake turned his head, ready with a cocky reply of something resembling a 'you don't think I know that' until he took in Bradley's panicked face, staring at the stairs below. Following Bradley's eyes, Jake reeled, noticing the rising water levels.

Grabbing Rooster by the back of his suit, Jake pulled Bradley in front of him, pushing him up the stairs, urging him forward and shouting, Go!

The two tried not to look up as they climbed, picturing their destination in their minds. Ignoring the sound of the alarm and the rushing water, Jake and Bradley counted their steps as they tried to reach the top. And they were close. Even as the rest of the ship creaked and groaned, they still fought to reach the top, unaware if help was waiting for them on the other side.

Then something blew up on one of the upper levels, the sound, the vibration, causing Jake and Bradley to slam themselves into the wall, trying to make themselves as small as possible. The lights flickered once, twice, then completely out, before a rotating red emergency light dimly lit the narrow stairwell. Metal crunched above their heads, snapping like twigs, and Jake didn't dare look up for fear of what might happen to either of them.

They felt it before they saw it, thin metal snapping out from underneath their feet. Feeling himself lurching forward, Jake immediately reached out for anything to hold on to. His fingers met a railing untouched by damage, and he latched on, suddenly opening his eyes to pull himself up and towards the relative safety of the remnants of the broken landing.

Bradley hadn't been so lucky.

Because the falling debris favoured his side of the stairs, the section he'd been crouching against completely crumpled under the impact, leaving only an empty space where thick, rushing water roiled menacingly below. There was nothing Bradley could have clung to, nothing that would have saved him from falling towards those black depths or allowed him to reach the warped edges of that landing.

Till his hand slapped onto a piece of a broken railing, Bradley struggled to find a grip tight enough to counteract the sweat on his palms. A panicked noise escaped his mouth as he slid down the newly indented piece of metal, finally stopping just before the end, muscles taunt and ridged as he forced breath into his body.

Jake had managed to pull himself up onto the landing as Bradley had fallen, instantly rolling himself up onto his chest to look down for the pilot.

He was within reach, and Jake extended his hand, on the verge of falling off the flimsy piece of metal. Bradley was hanging on, barely, looking between Jake's hand and the beam, the metal becoming looser and looser by the second.

And yet, Bradley still wouldn't take his hand.

"For godsakes, Bradshaw, just take my fucking hand!"

Jake purposely tried to jolt his arm forward in emphasis, hoping Bradley would finally take the leap and let go. But Bradley bowed his head, trying to force air into his lungs through his mouth as he looked down. With each pulse of red light, the water appeared to be getting higher and higher with each second.

He let out a panicked noise, trying to adjust his slipping grip. The movement caused the metal beam to drop slightly further, accompanied by a jarring clang. Bradley cried out, trying to reach for the broken edge of the landing.

Jake could feel himself slipping, sliding forward until he caught his boot on the railing, locking his body tight as he hung over the edge. Sharp, broken pieces of metal bit into his stomach as he swayed, trying to reach once again.

"Bradley! Just take my hand!" he shouted over the alarms, not any less urgent than before. "Please!"

Jake had never begged a day in his life, let alone to someone like Rooster. But there was no way he wasn't going home without him. You would never forgive him, and Sadie would never recover. He knew that for a fact.

Metal snapped, and Bradley dropped another inch, thinking this was it. That the railing was no longer attached to whatever had been holding it in place, baring his entire weight. Bradley threw his arm up towards Jake's in a desperate move.

Jake grabbed his wrist at the last possible second, a pained shout escaping his lips as he completely absorbed his weight, metal grating bending underneath him. But the grip he had on the railing with his foot held, and Jake bowed his head in relief, taking a few seconds with Bradley hanging dangerously off his arm to ground himself, trying not to think about what might have happened had he not caught him.

Jake grunted hard as he pulled Rooster up, his other hand finding a grip on the fabric of his flight suit along his back, hoping the railing from where he grounded himself would hold long enough to support them both. Bradley did the same with Jake's, using it as leverage to hoist himself up over the edge, only to roll onto his back, breathing hard.

Jake twisted his body away from the edge, laying on his back next to Rooster, staring up at what remained of the remaining flights of stairs. With the water still rushing below them and red lights spinning above them, the two dagger pilots took a few seconds to recuperate in the middle of the danger.

"You had to wait till the last second, didn't you?" Jake roughed out, panting hard. Bradley took three deep breaths before managing to gasp out, "I had to keep it interesting, right?"

Jake slammed his eyes shut, rocking his head to the side in slight annoyance. Bringing himself to a stand, Jake held out his hand again to help Bradley up. This time, Rooster didn't refuse it, instantly throwing his arm out to grasp the back of Jake's elbow, hoisting himself up.

Jake went to let go the minute he was up, but Bradley's grip remained firm.

"This is the second time you've saved me," he said, trying to make out Jake's face in the red light and dropping water. "You could have left me this time, for everything I've done, said..."

"What would be the point?" Jake interrupted him. "If I'd left you, I'd be no better than the person you thought I was. Besides," Jake added, smirking, "who else would I have to constantly prove wrong if you weren't around?"

Bradley scoffed, a tint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Asshole."

Jake shrugged. "It's in my nature. Now, can we please get the hell out of here?"

Bradley nodded, releasing Jake's elbow. In a dramatic fashion, he gestured for Jake to lead the way, looking up towards the rest of their journey to escape. But Bradley's eyes widened in horror as he saw the chunk of ceiling, metal, and wiring breaking loose directly above Jake.

"Jake, move!" Bradley bellowed, his voice echoing with urgency as he dropped to the ground, trying to drag Jake with him.

But in the chaos of falling water, blinking lights and cacophony of alarms, Jake was a split second too late to comprehend the warning fully. Just as he turned to see the descending danger, the heavy debris crashed down, the force of the impact throwing him off balance, rocking whatever remained of the grating they were standing on.

A metallic clang resonated sharply, followed by the splash of water as Jake was sent reeling backwards. The last thing Bradley saw, huddled against the wall, was the look of shock and realization in Jake's eyes, his silhouette disappearing beneath the surging tide of murky water, quickly consuming any trace of him.

Bradley, mouth agape, crawled over to the edge, Jake's call-sign a cry masked by the high-pitched alarms.

"Hangman!"

Bradley couldn't see him anywhere. Water continued to rush into the space, and Bradley, kneeling against the metal grating, tried to spot any area where Jake could manage to resurface. But with the power out and the pulsing red emergency lights, he couldn't see beyond the water's black surface.

Last call, I repeat, last call for evacuation and bail-out procedures.

Rooster pulled himself to stand, weighing his options.

He could jump and look for Jake. Despite the precarious situation they found themselves in, the water was still slow to fill the narrow stairwell. Bradley estimated he had minutes before the water became too much for him to handle.

Or he could leave, save himself. Say he did everything he could. That Jake was lost, the situation was too dire.

That Jake died a hero, trying to save him once again.

But it wasn't even a choice; the decision had already been made. It had been made the second your face appeared in front of his, and how it changed into a faded memory of his mom, collapsing to the ground at the news of his father's death. And Bradley, watching it all from behind the corner of a wall, forever feeling small.

But then it wasn't him as a child, but Sadie, the same look on her face the day the two of you walked up the driveway of your sister's place. The same look he found on her face the day she ran into your backyard, pulling at grass.

Jake would be another person for the both of you to mourn. He couldn't let that happen.

Bradley crossed his arms over his chest and jumped, diving under the water.

All he could see was black.

I had to cliffhanger you guys one last time with this one 😂 Please forgive me....

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Part 21 - My Fair Lady Coming Soon 👀

-Wickett ;)

#Spotify #horseshoegirlwrites #jake x reader #liz and jake #jake seresin fic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #top gun au #hangman top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun hangman #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin #damn those dog tags

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 9 - Hang On, Hang On

This is the one you’ve been waiting for 💛 also, that second photo - I actually took it, which I’m really proud of!!

Kay Peeps, if you hadn't heeded the +18 warning, you better do so now. I mean it! Smut is an ever-present possibility from this point onwards.

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18), Nightmares, Sad (And scared) Sadie is back.

#6.8k Words

Part 8 | Masterlist | Part 10

“So, what’s going on with you and Hangman?” 

You choked on your drink, coughing hard, as you spat out, “Nat, come on.” 

Natasha had pressured you into having a drink with her at the Hard Deck on your day off, holding you to your promise of having a girl's night before she was deployed. 

Not that you didn't want to spend time with her, but you weren't feeling up to this particular Friday night. Or it could have been due to the fact she couldn't stop hounding you about Jake volunteering to pick Sadie up from school.

You had to give her credit. She knew something was up ever since they came home. And despite her best efforts to corner you, you had successfully evaded her. That was until now.

When you told her you couldn't because you didn't have anyone to watch Sadie, she saw right through your bald-faced lie, saying she knew Amelia would be coming over to help Sadie with a science project.

You were left with no way out of it.

“Rooster had a ‘chat’ with us,” she exclaimed. “Told us we needed to stop being mean to Jake, or we won’t be able to see Sadie anymore.”

You rolled your eyes. "He's exaggerating. You know I would never stop you from seeing Sadie.”

She nodded her head in agreement, but it didn't stop her from pressing further. "So spill. There was no way that would have come out of his mouth willingly."

She wasn't going to let this go, you thought. Maybe filling her in on bits and pieces of what happened would calm her curiosity, and you'd catch a break.

"Jake was helping me get through the whole CPS situation." you started, knowing Jake would have told Rooster as much. "Then I found Tyler's letter while you guys were deployed. So I showed it to him, and... Well, you know Bradley, he jumped to conclusions and thought he saw something he didn't."

"He basically accused me of not thinking about Sadie," Nat's eyes softened with your words. She knew without a double you considered Sadie before doing anything for yourself. For Bradley to suggest otherwise was harsh.

"So, I told him to stop being mean to Jake as an apology."

"Did Bradley see something he though he saw?”

You swallowed at her words. There was no way she saw you and Jake too. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, did Bradley actually see something going on between the two of you? When you showed him the letter."

You dug your nails into your thigh as you replied, "Are you implying something is going on between Jake and I?"

Nat didn't hesitate when she answered you with, "Come on, Liz, how many female friends does Jake actually have?"

That made you pause, blankly staring at her. She was right. 

"Jake doesn't do that with most people."

You felt pinned down. With no way out but to deny everything. So instead, you went for, “How much do you know about Jake?” 

“Besides the fact, he’s an ass?” 

“Nat.” You snapped. “He’s not. Stop with that.” 

Phoenix leaned back in her seat, a pleased grin on her face. “You like him.” 

“Nat!” 

"Hey, I know I was against it initially, but I honestly think you are making a difference for him."

Much like Penny's reaction, you thought Nat would have undoubtedly jumped to your defence, threatening to kick him to the curb or shoot him down the next time they went up together. So the fact she was actually reacting positively made you question everything.

You pinned her with your eyes. "Why are you so suddenly changing your mind about Jake?"

"Besides the fact he is good with the Bug? I think he genuinely likes you."

Well, that made your ears burn.

"He was different this time out. Less harsh on everyone.  Actually wanting to talk to us like decent human beings. I don't think that's a coincidence."

“A man doesn’t change his ways for a woman,” you rolled your eyes at her. 

“He does if it’s the right woman.”

You dropped your elbows to the table, leaning forward. “That’s so fricken cheesy, Nat.”

She huffed out a laugh, you joining in with her.

“I meant to say, if you want to, I’ll back you up.”

You opened your mouth, some retort about Jake never going for someone like you ready on your lips, when someone collapsed into the empty booth next to you, a body trying very hard to use you as a personal pillow.

It could have only been one person, literally from the fact he had done this once before.

“Bob?” you questioned, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek. 

“Hi, Lizzie,” he hiccuped, burying his face into the back of your shoulder. You looked up at Nat, shocked. She stared at Bob for a few seconds before putting her face into her hands. “Dammit, Bob, not again.” 

Rooster, Coyote and Jake swarmed your table, Rooster exhaled after finally tracking down Bob, sighing out under his breath, "There he is."

Clearly, that wasn't the correct thing to say in front of Nat.

“What did you guys do to my WSO?!” She cried out, staring at Rooster.  

“It’s not our fault he’s a baby.” 

Javy was hanging at the back of the group, a disappointing look on his face, which led you to believe he had nothing to do with Bob's current state. Meaning Rooster and Jake, standing at the front, were at fault.

You glared at Jake, your face saying everything words couldn't.

He only shrugged. “He wanted to play 8-ball for drinks.”

You were about to open your mouth to reply before your phone blared out. You looked down at your phone, frowning at the notification. 

Serve weather warning. Seek shelter immediately. 

“There’s a storm warning." You said out loud, scrolling through your phone to read the weather report. "It looks really bad.” 

“I bet we could make it back home in time?” Coyote suggested, looking to Bob before looking out the back windows of the Hard Deck. You followed his gaze, and judging by the sky outside, the waves, and the sudden bursts of wind, they wouldn’t. 

“Nope. Out of question. All of you are staying at mine tonight.” 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dragged the squad back to your house after a night of drinking. You were sure it wouldn’t be the last either.

 But if this was the first major storm of the season lurking in the sky as an imminent threat and your house being only being five minutes max away from the Hard Deck, this would be the easiest way to ensure everyone remained safe, especially with Bob.

You wouldn’t risk the chance of something happening to them if you could help it.

“Are you sure?” Phoenix asked. “I don’t know about the others, but I would really appreciate that. But I don’t want to impose.” 

You stared at her ridiculously. “Nat. Seriously. You guys have done a lot worse.” 

“Okay,” She held her hands up, then looked to Bob. “But I’m not bunking with any of these lightweights.” 

Judging by Bob’s hiccup against your shoulder, you didn’t blame her. Glancing at him from over your shoulder, you remarked, “This one is walking home with us.” 

You looked back at the group.  “Any takers?” 

Bradley immediately replied, “I’m not turning down your couch. That thing is awesome.”

Javy nodded, adding, "It would be nice to have breakfast with Sadie."

Then you turned to Jake, raising your eyebrow. “You in? I promise I have enough room.” 

You felt Nat kick you from under the table, and you did your best not to react.

Jake looked conflicted for a moment, his forehead scrunching together and narrowing his eyes. "You walked here again?"

"Why would I waste gas when I'm five minutes out?"

He couldn't really argue with your logic, but that didn't stop him from worrying about you walking by yourself. Not that you would be this time, but during the nights when you closed.

But a night under your roof? There was a time he had asked that question with nothing more than the intent to get you into a bed and fuck you until he was stated.

But now? He would do anything just to be near you.

Jake reached for Bob, peeling him off your body before handing him over to Rooster and Coyote, before holding out his hand to help you out of the booth. The cocky smirk was back as he said, "Lead the way."

Bradley and Javy hooked their arms under Bob’s shoulders, lifting him up and over to the front door. You quickly said your goodbyes to Penny and Jimmy, who swore they would be okay by themselves to close early. Deciding to walk was an easy decision. If the storm was as bad as the report said it was, they were better leaving their cars in the parking lot overnight rather than in your tiny driveway and along your street.

The heat was stifling as you exited the bar, the storm in the air and the sky behind the thunder clouds a deep orange. A car horn honked at you when, in your eagerness to watch the sky, you weren’t looking where you were going.

Jake walked next to you, making sure to put himself between you and the road on your journey home. And when a strong gust of wind threatened to knock you over, he pulled you tight into his side, his arm fastened around your waist as if you’d be swept off with the next gust of wind. 

Your mind should have been racing with more thoughts about Jake’s hand on your waist. What it meant, if it was related to New Year's Eve, if he was just being a good friend or whether Rooster or Coyote saw now that Nat was no longer an issue. In fact, you were certain she was going to start encouraging it if it meant getting a reprieve from the tension amongst the team. 

But Rooster and Coyote were too busy making sure Bob didn’t fall over because of the wind. And Nat was ahead of you all, leading the group up the street quickly because she didn’t want to get wet. 

Instead, for some strange reason, you couldn’t help but wonder if the car driving out of the parking lot was the same as when Jake drove you home from your shift that night. 

_____

You awoke to a rumble of thunder shaking the house. 

The storm had only progressed in the hours since you arrived home with the Daggers. Amelia had already helped Sadie to bed when you greeted her at the door. You offered for her to stay, but she assured you she could get home before the real brunt of the storm hit. You only let her go if she promised to let you know when she got home. 

Rolling over, you spied Nat on the other side of your bed, perfectly passed out and unbothered by the ruckus over your house. You envied her ability to sleep wherever, though you pitied the why. 

Tossing and turning, you couldn’t get comfortable. You thought maybe counting the time between the rumbles of thunder and the sparks of lightning would lull you back to sleep, but nothing seemed to help. 

Your eyes shot around the room, taking in the objects you carefully placed to make this room your own, till you paused at your bedside tablet. Your small jewellery box, a photo of Sadie, your alarm clock revealing 3:00 A.M. in bright green numbers. And your book Pride and Prejudice, the bookmark still in the same spot since the day you read it on the beach last year. The brief thought of reading came to mind, but you pushed it aside almost instantly. You knew you’d only pick it up to read the same page over and over, never venturing from the last sentence on that page, before you’d slam the book shut and throw it back to its resting place. 

Deciding to bite the bullet, you lifted your covers, watching Nat carefully as you climbed out of your bed, thinking maybe a cup of tea would help. 

After shutting your door carefully, you tiptoed through your hallway, pausing for a second outside your office door, where Jake would be fast asleep on your pull-out couch.

The minute everyone arrived, they went about making themselves at home, following the same routine they always did when staying over.

Nat instantly sought out your room with nothing more than a 'Goodnight, Losers!" over her shoulder. After Bob was settled on the opposite end of your couch, Rooster flung himself down into the cushions, an arm strung over his face covering his eyes as he pilfered the blanket you had strung over the back of the couch. Coyote had taken the floor, having dug around in your garage for your air mattress, finding it perfectly adequate.

After checking on Sadie, you found Jake standing in your kitchen, looking a little lost. You simply had looped your arm through his, taking him down the hallway to your office where you had already pulled out the bed, sheets and all ready.

Deciding against opening the door, you forced yourself to continue to your kitchen, the storm lighting your path. You hand sought out the light switch under the upper cabinets before reaching for your kettle.

After filling it up, you placed it back on its stand, pressing a few buttons before rummaging through your tea chest for Chamomile tea.

It would be a couple more minutes before the kettle boiled, so you pulled out your empty trash can from under the sink and a bottle of water from your fridge. After a quick pit stop at your bathroom, you made your way into the family room, carefully navigating yourself around the room so you could place the objects in front of Bob for when he woke up in the morning.

Even though Rooster's snores and the pain pelting hard against the roof, you heard the kettle whistle, and you eagerly made your way back to make what you hoped would be a cure for your insomnia.

Nursing the cup of tea between your hands, your oversized sleeves protecting your skin from the extreme heat, you leaned against the kitchen window over the backyard.

A gasp escaped your lips when you heard the sound of glasses clicking against one another a few seconds later. You whipped around to see what made the noise. Jake froze, his arm slowing dropping down after grabbing a glass.

 “Sorry,” he said softly, voice riddled with sleep. “I just wanted to get a glass of water.”

You relaxed instantly, pressing your mug back to your chest. "It's okay."

After filling his glass, Jake joined you, leaning up against the wall opposite.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, bringing the glass to his lips. You shook your head.  

“I used to like storms,” you reminisced, playing with the string of your tea bag. “But now…”

You didn't need to say anymore. Jake knew, given the way you trailed off, making your body smaller by curling inwards on yourself. He decided to change the topic, offering a “Bob drunkenly confessed Rooster had a chat with him.” 

You chuckled to yourself, knowing exactly what Jake was referring to.

"I'm sorry if it wasn't my place," you apologized to him. "I just had enough."

"Enough?"

"Of them treating you like that. Of Bradley not giving you a chance," you shrugged.

“I can't say it's not unwarranted,” he replied, glancing out the window to take in the storm. “I may have said something about his Dad in the past.”

"Jake..."

He faced you, looking ashamed. "I know what you're going to say. How could I, right?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," you spoke softly. "Only that it's your past. It's not who I know you as."

Here you go again, he thought. Treating him as if he wasn't undeserving of you defending him.

This time, it was you who decided to change the topic.

"I never thanked you for picking up Sadie. She had a good time."

Despite the heaviness from before, Jake smiled to himself. "She's a good kid."

Then he offered, “You don’t want to know what she wanted to talk to me about?” 

You shook your head. “If she wanted to tell me, she would have. I don’t mind she has secrets, but I trust if it were important enough, she’d come to me when she needed me.” 

“Besides,” you said, bringing the tea to your lips and smirking into the mug, “She told me you faced Ursula.”

The look on Jake's face was priceless. You didn't know a lot about what happened, and Lyssa was short on details. But they both told you Jake didn't bat an eyelid when she tried to flirt with him. But judging from the look on his face, something happened that they didn't tell you about.

Then suddenly, your words made you think back to you and Jake sitting in the booth that night before the almost kiss. He wanted to tell you something before Bradley decided to be an ass. 

 You thought about it for a second, knowing if you went down that road and brought up New Year's Eve, it would undoubtedly lead to a discussion about whatever happened between the two of you that night. You'd never know why the witching hour was suddenly the moment you decided you’d need to ask the hard questions. If you did, would Jake answer you honestly, here and now, in your kitchen? 

You were about to ask, but the next rumble of thunder over the house was too close for comfort, the force causing the window next to you to clatter in the frame. You gasped, jolting away from the glass, a crack of lightning following right after. 

Your power flickered once, then twice, before going out completely, and you instantly looked for Jake in the darkness. But the next sound that echoed through the walls didn’t come from a crack of lighting or a rumble of thunder. No, it was one of the most jarring screams you had ever heard. 

You didn’t register it right away—another crack above masking the tail end of the sound. But Jake had. He was gone, running out of your kitchen and into your hallway, the bolt of lightning illuminating your kitchen and the spot where he once stood within seconds. 

Only one person in the house could have produced such a scream. 

Sadie. 

You almost dropped your cup of tea, carelessly sliding it along your kitchen counter as you took off after Jake into the hallway, hands skimming along the walls as your heart pounded hard in your chest. 

Her door was already open by the time you turned the corner. Reaching the door frame, you caught the tail end of Sadie lit up by another flash of lightning from her window, all red-faced and crying, scrambling into Jake’s arms as he sat on the end of her bed. 

Taking her into his arms, Jake spoke soothingly, “Easy, Bug.”

"Uncle Jake," she whimpered back.

“It’s just a storm," he placed a hand on her back. "We’re safe. Your safe.” 

She gasped out a sob, clutching Jake harder, burying her head into his chest. She dropped her hand down from the back of his neck, gripping his shirt tightly in her fist as she cried out, “Don’t let me go! Don’t let me go!”

“Not a chance,” he muttered into her hair. You pushed forward from the door, racing to the side of her bed, a hand on Jake’s back as you kneeled down next to them.

“Sadie?”

A bolt of lightning lit up her room, and you caught her shuttering at the light.  She turned her head, still buried in Jake’s collarbone, to look at you. You placed your other hand on her back. 

“It was a nightmare,” she sniffed before retreating back into Jake’s chest. 

“It’s okay to have a nightmare, Bug. We all get them.” You soothed, rubbing your hand up and down her back. Meeting Jake's eye, you could see his panic wash away, now replaced with concern that Sadie was merely scared than seriously hurt.

“Even me,” Jake offered. You were about to ask her, but Jake must have known what you were thinking when he followed up with, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

It took her a second, but she managed to squeak out a muffled, “Everyone didn’t make it home.” 

Jake’s arms flexed just a little at her admission. It was obvious he didn’t want to let her go. Sadie didn’t want to let him go either. 

“And… then the storm,” she stuttered. “Mum…and you. It's too much."

Jake and you let her catch her breath, Sadie wiping away her tears before resuming the grip she had on his shirt. "I was alone."

Your voice was firm, even if your heart was breaking at her words, when you replied back, "There will never be a point in your life, Sadie, where you will be alone. You have my word."

Another rumble of thunder shook her window, making her whimper. Her voice was small, “I’m scared.” 

“What are you scared about?” Jake asked her softly.

“The thunder,” she cried. “The lightning. What else is up there.” 

You caught Jake’s smile from where it was hidden in her hair. “Well, I can tell you from first-hand experience that it’s nothing but clouds up there. If there were, I would have seen it by now.” 

Sadie pulled back, resting her chin on Jake's chest, peering up at him to take in his words. "Really?" She asked. Jake nodded. "I promise."

"Do you think you can manage to fall back asleep?" you asked her.

"I don't want to be alone," she managed to say before another burst of lightning filled her room, making her jolt.

“I gotcha, Bug.” Jake consoled her. “We won’t leave till you feel safe.”

Jake pressed his cheek to the top of her head, eyes closed as he held her, rocking back and forth as another rattle shook the house. Sadie shook harder with each roar, and he tried to soothe her the best he could. 

As the worst of the storm passed, although no less intense as rain pelted against the windows, Sadie fell back asleep holding on to Jake. He lifted his cheek off her, glancing down at her with so much tenderness it made you want to cry. Placing a hand on the back of her head, he carefully picked her up so as not to disturb her sleep. 

It brought you back to the nights Sadie would fall asleep on your chest as a baby or when she was only five years old, Ridley working night shifts at the hospital, and it was just the two of you. Falling asleep in the rocking chair in her room or on the couch, much like Jake was doing now, you’d carry her back to her bed, wondering how long it would be before she grew up and you couldn’t anymore. 

Gently laying her down, Jake delicately peeled her hands off his shirt, ensuring she was settled, tenderly brushing away a piece of her hair covering her face. He stepped back to allow you to pull the covers over her. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, you motioned for Jake to follow. 

Softly closing her bedroom door after Jake walked ahead of you, you pressed your back up against the wall next to her door. 

“Thank you, Jake.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for that," he said, standing opposite of you, looking down at the floor.  

“No, I do,” you couldn’t gather the words to describe just how appreciative of what Jake just did for Sadie. “I… I don’t know what we’d do without you. She adores you... I..” 

You had to stop yourself. You weren't going to admit to Jake that you liked him like this. It would be taking advantage of him, especially after that. But your mind raced, and instead, you went back to the question you wanted to ask before Sadie screamed.

You needed to know. If bringing up New Year's Eve would bring the downfall of this friendship, if setting a boundary with Jake was needed, then you'd rather rip the band-aid off now before your heart would ache further.

So standing in the middle of your hallway, just outside Sadie's door, with the rest of the daggers asleep in the house, you opened the can of worms.

“What did you want to tell me New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck?” you asked him softly. 

Jake lifted his head, shocked. “What?” 

“When I showed you the letter, you wanted to tell me something.”

Jake shook his head, eyes cast down towards your floor, murmuring, “It’s not important.” 

You frowned at his dismissal, pushing yourself off the wall. “Jake, it must have been important to you if you wanted to tell me.” 

He turned around, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“Jake?” 

He looked to the hallway leading to your family room, pausing a few seconds before looking to your bedroom door, to Sadie’s, and then coming to rest on you. There’s a heat in his eyes, and you cannot help but feel the weight of it flushing down your body.

But you were still concerned. It wasn’t like Jake to be like this. 

“Jake?”  you tried again. This time your voice was significantly lower and a bit more concerning, hoping it would encourage him to speak. But then he licks the bottom of his lip, the little movement making your brain shortcircuit. 

There you were, standing there looking up at him, worried something was wrong. In a sleep shirt, ten times too big for you. Standing outside Sadie's bedroom door.

You. His possibility of someday.

Penny gave him a green light. Sadie told him she was okay with it. But he realized he didn't want to be searching for those commanding orders in any decision regarding you.   

A bell, a snake, his own fucking hesitancy. There would always be something preventing him from doing what he wanted. If he wanted to do it, he had to do it now.

If not now, when.

He doesn’t even lower his voice when he says, “Fuck it.”

Jake is in front of you in two strides, taking your face into his hands as he bends down without hesitancy, pressing his lips to yours. You froze, unable to move as your arms hung limply by your sides, trying to process exactly what just happened as everything around you went silent with his touch.

When you don't react, Jake releases your lips, his eyes wild and lips red as he takes in your face. And it hits you, at that moment, how desperate and turned on you were for him to give you more from that one kiss alone.

You lean up, pressing your lips back onto his. Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking forward and backing you up against the wall. 

You were in absolute disbelief, yet a small part of you wanted to shake with joy. Maybe you were shaking with joy. Or nerves. You couldn’t tell. Not with how hard Jake was pressing you into the wall. His hold on you was just that tight. His other hand slips down from where it landed on the wall, along your hip bone, before grazing the bare skin of your thigh. His callouses a stark contrast on your soft skin. 

But it’s not enough for him. He moves to grip the back of your thighs with both hands, bending down slightly to lift you up. Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist, and you let instinct take over, your arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders, hands and fingers looping around the back of his neck to weave through the roots of his hair as you keep kissing him.

You had no idea how quickly the two of you got where you were so quick, but you didn’t want it to stop. But your heart fluttering hard against your chest was telling you to stop, competing with the quiet urge deep inside you screaming for you not to ruin the moment and let yourself experience it, to take as much as Jake was willing to offer.

But you couldn’t. You were too terrified, beneath how your body responded to Jake and his touch. 

You needed him to know. You needed him to understand. 

You weren’t somebody he could fuck around with. 

With Jake releasing your mouth, you sucked in a desperate breath, “I’m not a one-night stand, Jake. I don’t sleep with people for fun.” 

The words spilled out of you before you even really knew you were saying them. The defence mechanisms that had been slowly breaking down since the night at the Hard Deck, the hike, the video chat, and the almost kiss on New Year’s Eve were crying out in some last desperate attempt to survive. This a last attempt at warning you nothing but trouble and heartache would follow should you choose to keep walking down this path. 

You were subconsciously aware of Jake’s hand travelling up your back, fingers catching the top helm of your baggy sleep shirt, pulling it down and exposing the skin of your shoulder, his nose softly tracing your cheek near the corner of your mouth.

I know you don’t,” he rasped before kissing you again. Heart soaring up your throat, you forced yourself to pull away, panting out, “You have a reputation.” 

“Do I?” He whispered against your jaw before pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone before sucking on the soft skin of your shoulder. “Enlighten me.” 

“A trail of one-night stands,” you whimpered as he sucked harder, your hand going to his chest. “Quitting bartenders of broken hearts.” 

Words were hard. It took you a couple of seconds, between feeling him stroke at your skin and his mouth at your collarbone, to formulate the words you needed to explain your point. 

“Your call sign up in the girl's bathroom.”  Shit.  “It’s obvious.” 

“Is it?” He had the decency to sound like he wasn’t as affected as you were, with no wavering of breaths or stuttering responses. Even if his voice was a little bit rough, it oozed confidence. 

“It’s what I’ve been told.” 

The hallway around you was non-existent. The storm raging on was non-existent. Nothing mattered but the feeling of Jake’s body, his hands, his mouth pressing up against you. His fingers splayed across the small of your back, sliding down only to grope at the bare skin of your ass underneath your sleep shorts. 

It was too much. And not enough. 

“What happened to the clean slate?” 

“The clean slate was different - Shit,” your voice caught in your throat when he adjusted his grip, you dropping a few inches down the wall, your pelvis now flush against his. “I thought you wanted to be friends.” 

“Do friends want to do this to each other?” he smirked against your jawline. 

They certainly don’t, was the first thought in your head. Friends with benefits, maybe, but you weren’t that type of person.  You cared too much ever to let your heart get hurt like that.

So you challenged him back, “Why do you think Penny hired me back? They all left because of you.” 

“Not for what you think,” Another sharp kiss, all teeth pulling at your bottom lip, hard.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Let me prove you wrong.” 

You stilled in this hold, nails digging into his broad shoulders and your hand pushing him away as you gasped slightly at his words. Jake hesitantly pulled back to look at your face, hands pausing in their efforts.

“Jake,” you managed to say, your breath harsh as your chest heaved with effort. “Are you asking to take me out on a date?” 

You saw the gentle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed before giving a terse nod.  “Just one. That’s all I’m asking, Liz.” 

You started at him in shock. “You don’t date.” 

“I would for you.” 

“And when you realize I’m not worth it? 

“Bullshit.” 

He was angry at you for saying so, back to pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your lips as if it would prove to you just how much he thought you were.

“You don’t want me,” you spoke in between kisses, Jake responding in kind by urging across your lips, “Yes, I do.” 

“No," you pulled away from his mouth, panting harshly as both your hands pushed at his chest.

“Since the first moment I met you,” he is sure in his words. “Making an ass of myself by attempting to pick you up. But I didn’t realize how much until we spoke when I was overseas.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” he started. “You’re not the type of person someone spends the night with. You’re the person they come home to.” 

“Jake,” his name is a cry on your lips. There was no way he would see you like that. It was fucking insane. He must be fucking insane. 

You went to shake your head, Jake catching a kiss on your cheek, preventing you from following through. Then another, and another before he found the corner of your mouth. You were unable to resist the feeling, the drive to turn your head back to meet his lips. 

Jake couldn’t stop kissing you. If this were all he could get, he would take what he could while he still could. He just couldn’t understand why you thought you weren’t worth a chance. 

“You should know what you're getting into,” you said, tilting your head back to whisper against his lips. “If you want to date me.” 

“What am I getting into?” he challenged, lifting his chin up to rub his nose against yours. 

“I have little to no dating experience, Jake.”

“According to you, neither do I.” 

“I’m not like other girls.” 

“It’s why I like you.” 

“I’m off limits.” 

“Fuck them.” 

“Jake, I’m…” 

“Stop.” 

Another kiss. But this time, you let him. You let him press you harder into the wall, letting yourself gasp into his mouth, to hear him moan with you, to let him stroke up and down the back of your thigh, only to realize Jake was working his mouth down your body once more, down your neck and across your collarbone. Your hand finds a grip his hair, anticipating the path his lips might take. But instead of going back to your shoulder, Jake goes for your chest.

An open palm trailed up your stomach and over your ribs, pausing just below your breast. “Can I?” he rasped. 

“God, yes,” you managed to croak. You couldn’t help yourself. Not when this touch was making you feel this good. Jake kneaded your breast, and you mewled, your head thumping back into the wall. He used his grip to bunch up your skin, taking in a mouthful exposed by the dip of your shirt to suck. You let out a cry behind a closed mouth, Jake grunting with the noise. 

Something was building in the pit of your stomach. Was it heat? You certainly felt hot, your skin exposed, vulnerable, under Jake’s touch and mouth. And the way he was working his way around your breast, tongue travelling down your skin. His tongue shot out, creeping just at the underside of your breast, your hand shooting out to the wall, searching for a grip that wasn’t there. 

“I’m a package deal,” you gasped up towards the ceiling. Jake paused in his efforts, looking up at you before bringing his face level with yours. 

It felt cheap to throw Sadie in as the last resort. But you needed him to know, to really understand Sadie was a part of this too. Even in his arms, feeling his body pressing into yours up against the wall, your legs wrapped on either side of his waist. That if he really wanted this, he needed to know it wasn’t only you he had to consider.

You already knew what he was going to say. 

You just needed to hear him say it. 

His eyes were soft as he replied, “It’s the both of you or nothing at all.” 

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t mean to make your voice so small or shut your eyes. But even with your back-and-forth internal monologue of fuck it and no fucking way, your insecurities came out front, right and center. 

He didn’t hesitate when he replied, pressing his forehead to yours, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.” 

Every brick you had ever built to protect yourself from accepting you felt something more than just mere friendship with Jake crumbled at his words. 

“One date, darlin’.” He breathes out. “Give me a chance.” 

You could no longer keep lying to yourself. The last brick had fallen, and with the realization settling in your stomach, there was no possible way you would have ever kept that stupid promise to yourself. 

You wanted Jake Seresin more than you needed to breathe - in all the ways that mattered. And he wanted you too.

“Okay.” 

Jake pulled back, the hand gripping your hip proceeding to hold your jaw. The back of your head hit the wall, forcing you to open your eyes. 

“Okay?” 

He looked worried, you thought. But there was also something desperate about how his stare took you in, pinned to the wall with his body and hips. As if you possibly couldn’t be saying yes. Despite the nerves in your answer, you shakily raised your hand off the wall, fingers threading themselves through his hair once more. 

“Okay,” you affirmed, nodding once. “One date.”  

Relief. That was the look on Jake’s face as he took in your words. He closed his eyes, body sagging into you as his face found a home in the crook of your neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, your legs still tight on his waist, his hand holding you in place as his breath warmed the phantom sensations from the number he did to your neck. You’d have to escape to the bathroom to hide the evidence before anyone woke up. 

And as you stroked your fingers up and down the back of his neck, all Jake wanted to do was take in the feeling of you in his arms. Your softness, your warmth, the smell of your bath soap. The pressures of maybe, what ifs and his inevitable ability to fuck things up abated for now.

You had said yes.

The realization led him to press small, gentle kisses to your collarbone. They were feather-light touches across your skin that made you press a kiss to his temple in contentment. 

“I don’t put out on the first date.” 

“Either do I,” a muffled reply against your skin. 

You chuckled, fingers messing through his hair. “Liar.” 

“Not with you,” feeling him speak against your jaw, a vibration just barely thrumming in your ear. “I want to take this slow.” 

You couldn’t help the smile. “You call this slow?” 

Jake bit down on your neck, a sensitive spot that made a shriek escape your lips and throw your head to the side. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his tongue soothing the sharp sting. 

“For now,” his voice was rough. “Just let me keep kissing you. Before somebody wakes up or something stops me for god damn fourth time.” 

Maybe it was the fire burning through your veins encouraging this bout of sudden confidence. You usually weren’t this forward. But the words spilled from your lips before you really knew what you had said. 

“The last time was your fault. You should have aimed for my lips.” 

Jake canted his hips, the arm wrapped around the back of your waist to pull you down hard. There was no mistaking the deliberate press of his hips or the meaning behind it when he squeezed your hip. The feeling of him hard, through the layer of his pants, caused a mix of a whine and a gasp of surprise to escape your lips. 

Jake covered your mouth with his in an attempt to silence you; his voice honeyed against your mouth as he asked, “Did I aim right this time?” 

It was a miracle the Daggers currently in your house weren’t light sleepers. If the low rumbles of thunder and cracks of lightning outside your house hadn’t woken them up now, your voice as Jake continued to work his mouth over your body surely wouldn’t.  

Jake here, pressing you up and next to Sadie’s bedroom door, would not go over well.

You just hoped Sadie was still asleep on the other side of the wall.

So... no more pitchforks? 😂 Right?🫣

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal

Part 10: Let's Dance coming soon.

Wickett ;)

#damnthosedogtags #horseshoegirl #horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake x reader #hangman #hangman seresin x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun au #top gun hangman #controlled chaos squad #callsign lucky #Spotify #top gun fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman x oc #hangman fluff #top gun fic #hangman seresin

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 14 - Sex on Fire

📓 We have fluff! We have some smut!

This song specifically was one of the big three that inspired this fic! When I saw TGM and the scene at the end when Mav takes Penny up in his plane, this song matched the vibe, and I knew I wanted this for Jake and Liz.

Though I would love for you guys to try and guess which one is the song that inspired the whole story! Cause there is one! 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child character, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18,), FLUFF, aerophobia, and second dates.

#7k

Part 13 | Masterlist | Part 15

(Bradley's Spin-Off one shot here)

Jake and Sadie were conniving little lunatics. 

Scratch that. Sadie was an annoying insect who knew how to push buttons to get what she wanted. Jake was a gullible poor sod who had the habit of being played by said insect more than once. Because you knew without a doubt, sitting in the front seat of Jake's truck, blindfolded without any idea where you were going, this had her name written all over it.

"Is the blindfold really necessary, Jake?"

"If you knew where I was taking you, you'd jump out of my truck in an instant."

"That's not very reassuring."

Jake chuckled, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Sadie would kill me if I didn't follow through on this. After all our hard work."

"So you're doing this more for her than me," you tease. You could hear the smile in his voice when Jake replied, "The ladybug incident didn't scare you enough. Sadie's scary when she wants to be."

You chuckled softly, Jake joining in as you felt his thumb stroke across your knuckles.

Going on a date had been the last thing on your mind.

Tyler was still a major concern. Even with Cyclone keeping a watchful eye on the group of police assigned to Sadie and your case, they still needed actual leads. You hadn't paid much attention to his phone call the other day, explaining the pressure on Tyler's father to drop out of his political race or how Tyler's stupid white car was spotted on the interstate, leaving California altogether.

It should have brought you some comfort, but it didn't. The longer time stretched on, the more anxious you felt, wondering when he would make his next move.

Then there was also the matter of Bradley. Stupid, over-emotional, Bradley.

It had been days since Sadie found you in the bathtub - days since the fight. You hadn't heard from him, nor did you expect to. Maybe a tiny part of you didn't want him to reach out. But any nasty thoughts you harboured for him in the days following only managed to turn themselves into pity.

You knew his story. Mav told it enough times for you to recite it by heart. Bradley had only been two when his father tragically passed away. And Carole, his mom, had been devastated. You couldn't begin to understand the circumstances he had to go through as a kid. Each time Mav told the story, he always stressed that no love could have matched Carole and Goose's.

It's no wonder Bradley felt their loss in the way that he did. And you did feel partially guilty, wondering if talking to him about everything before it had gotten this bad would have made a difference. But it was clear he was internalizing something bigger than just hurt feelings. 

You weren't going to make the first move. That would have to be up to him.

It better be a damn good apology.

The idea of a possible date started when Sadie had called you a panicking-inducing hermit, much to Jake's amusement, scared to do anything remotely fun outside the confines of the house. Honesty? It was more to do with the fact there had been no sign of Tyler, no white car following you or sitting outside your house to encourage your paranoia.

You had gone to bed early after that, Jake and Sadie staying up playing a game of cards. You had no idea what time it was when Jake climbed into your bed, waking you up in the process when he pulled you into his chest. But it was definitely later than it should have been for a game of cards.

Jake had stayed with the two of you. Every morning you got to wake up either next to him or in his arms. The Daggers were still grounded; whether it was repairs or upper politics of the Navy, you weren't sure. But you were utterly grateful for his presence. 

It became evident that it was clearly more than a game of cards the following morning. Because in the hours after breakfast, Sadie made herself scarce. And Jake purposely kept you away from the garage, where he had parked his truck, in case Tyler decided to visit.

Sadie's maniacal laughter was another indication, so loud you could hear it through the garage walls. You were slightly concerned about what Jake was letting her do in there. 

But it all came to a head when Nat and Bob showed up at your door, telling you they were watching Sadie for the night, the Bug in question grinning ear to ear as she joined you at the door. You tried to refuse. You didn't want to leave her alone. In a surprise move, Sadie pouted at you. 

She had never once pouted over anything. No, she pushed, sassed, humoured, and produced receipts when she wanted to get her way.

 It freaked you out, so much so you couldn't bring yourself to say no. Which is how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jake's truck, Nat and Bob standing with her on your front porch as she shouted for both of you to have a good time as he backed out of your driveway.

This was the worst possible timing. And yet, after everything they did, you felt like you owed it to them to try.

"You deserve this, darlin'." Jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, knowing you feel guilty. You squeeze his hand, dropping your chin to your chest. You have to remind yourself that Sadie is safe at home with Nat and Bob, probably arguing over music or what board game to play. And most importantly, you were allowed to take time to do things like this.

It's a few more minutes before Jake finally parks his truck, letting go of your hand and gently taking hold of your face. "Do you promise to give this a chance?"

"I don't even know what you've gotten me into. What Sadie and you got me into."

You can't see his face, so you can't tell what he's thinking. But you can imagine what he looks like right now as you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You bet he's staring at you apprehensively, gritting his jaw, and letting out a tiny huff of breath.

"You trust me, right?"

You turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. "You know I do, Jake."

"Then trust me when I say you won't regret this." You sucked in a breath before you nodded.

Jake lets go of your face to get out of his truck, walking around to open your door and help you out of your seat. You were instantly met with the smell of gasoline and pavement, the hot waves travelling up the bare skin of your legs, and your dress slightly flowing in the wind. There's a second where you think you heard the rumble of an engine or a zoom of a plane, but Jake doesn't give you much time to think about it as he helps you step down and shuts the door behind him.

Looping your arm through his, he leads you away, walking for a bit until he stops and turns to face you, squeezing your hand.

"Stay here," he says, letting you go. You cross your arms over your chest as you wait for him, hearing the sound of keys rattling together, sliding metal and a chain dragging along the ground. And then that's it. Besides the sound of wind in your ears and a few birds chirping, you don't hear any sign of him, and it makes you wonder if he's left you alone, standing in the middle of nowhere.

Until you feel his hand gently touching your arm, and you jolt slightly. "It's just me, Liz."

He guides you forward, making you stand in one spot, hands steadying you by your elbows. You feel him against your back for a few seconds before he's working at the knot of the blindfold.

"Just remember you promised," he said before taking it off.

You opened your eyes - to Mav's plane staring back at you.

You understood why the blindfold was necessary. You would have jumped out of his truck in an instant.

"Jake..."

"I said I would get you into a plane for our second date," he said, proud of himself. You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to do. You subconsciously stepped backwards, the words "absolutely not" escaping your lips.

You didn't get very far. Your back met Jake's chest, and he instantly had his arms around you, trapping your body against his. You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm terrified of flying, Jake."

"I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise Liz, nothing bad is going to happen to you." He has the entire nape of your neck in his hand while this other hand is rubbing down the length of your spine in a comforting manner.

You don't know where your fear of flying came from. You've never been up in a plane before, a fact you certainly wouldn't admit to Jake. You were okay with heights, hikes on mountainside cliffs and long car drives.

Maybe it was the idea of not being in control of your body or being grounded.

"Jake, I don't know about this," you admit into his shirt. He presses his lips into your hair before explaining, "I won't let anything happen to you. We're just going up for a simple flight. The wind is perfect right now. There will be no turbulence. Trust me; I'm not called the best aviator at Top Gun for nothing."

He takes his hand off your neck to lift your chin. "Please," he urged, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me share something about my life that I love."

It was then, at that moment, you realized Jake and Sadie had something very much in common.

You could never say no to either of them.

___

If anyone had told you a week ago you would be sitting in the backseat of a plane, currently taxing down to a runway, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot. Even with your nerves on fire and a strong case of nausea, you let Jake help you up and into the back seat once he pulled the plane out of the hangar with little protest.

He was so excited to share this with you. Whether it was in how he helped buckle you into the seat or when he placed the headset on your head, there was a side to him you hadn't seen before. Almost giddiness, you thought, despite every internal voice you ever had screaming at you to run for the freaking hills. Even then, you were grateful you got to see this side of him.

As Jake speaks with the control tower expertly, you dart your eyes around the cabin. While there wasn't anything in terms of controls in the backseat with you, everything still looked old. The seat felt old. The buckles of the straps tying you down looked old. Even the walls looked old.

You also felt higher than you should, staring down at the plane's wings, eyes scoring the features, the colours, and the bumps. You knew you wouldn't find anything wrong. Jake was extremely thorough in his flight check, and you knew Mav cared for this thing like it was his child. But you were still scared, even believing if Sadie could do this multiple times with Maverick, who without a doubt took her for joyrides, you could handle a simple flight with Jake.

You should have fought harder to say no. You should have fought harder to say no.

Jake turns back slightly, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "I know it might seem scary, Liz. But trust me. I got you. We'll go slow."

Jake flies in an F-18, a machine capable of much more than whatever Mav's hobby plane could do. So his definition of slow is highly relative. It makes you feel nervous, wondering what he had planned for you.

It isn't until Jake pushes the plane forward onto the runway that you realize you have to accept that this is happening. Then he's accelerating forward, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

Adrenaline floods your veins as the plane takes off, gravity attempting to pull you back down in heavy anger. You slam your eyes shut, trying to force air into your lungs. The angle seems wrong, and you have this feeling both of you will crash into something, making you turn your face into your shoulder to hide.

Even when the plane levels out and things seem okay enough, you can't open them. Your heart is in your ears, and you're trying not to hyperventilate or make a noise. You don't want to ruin this for him. Because deep down, you knew, even with all the teasing and assurances, Jake would turn the plane around for you the second he got the slightest indication you were seriously freaked out.

So, for the longest time, you keep them shut, nothing but your heartbeat in your ears and the rumble of the old engine to keep you company. Even with Jake making this ride as smooth as possible, you couldn't help but alternate between gripping the edges of the seat or hugging yourself tight.

Don't open your eyes. Don't look down. Don't open your eyes. Don't look down.

"You alright?" Jake's voice crackled through the headset. First, you nodded with a hard sallow. But then you realize Jake couldn't see you. Your voice trembled as you managed to reply with, "Yes."

He chuckled to himself, the noise warm and full of amusement. He knew. He always did when it came to you.

"Open your eyes, Liz," Jake urged gently, his voice a mix of reassurance and excitement. "I'm not going to murder you if that's what your thinking."

Despite your anxiety, a smile manages to break through at his words. Actually, they are your words from the day of the hike when you took him down that hazardous unpaved road to the thrift shop. That had been so long ago, way before anything to do with Tyler, Bradley, or even before whatever this was with him.

He had given you the benefit of the doubt then. You owed it to do the same for him now. Shuttering a deep breath, you gathered the courage to open your eyes slowly.

At first, you half expected to fixate on the view of the ground underneath the plane's wings or catch a glimpse of the shoreline or ocean. That you'd hyperventilate, witnessing perhaps an engine on fire or a piece of Mav's plane missing, flapping in the wind.

You saw none of those things.

Jake had taken the two of you further North of the airport, towards a group of mountains. You were right in the middle of them, green caps and tall peaks making you forget you were even bound to the seat of the plane.

This wasn't flying.

This felt like soaring.

Jake banked the plane around one particular mountain, a tall one at the very end of the group. It wasn't until he purposely straightened out after circling around it, did the sun fully come into view. It was already beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with various hues and shades of fiery oranges, soft pinks and yellows.

The view from the Ferris wheel at the Fair had nothing on this.

Humans weren't supposed to witness views like this. They weren't supposed to be up this high, feeling like they could touch the clouds or be this close to the sun. Or see the shine, this bright, off the peaks of mountains or even be this parallel with them.

This was only something anyone could ever dream about seeing

As the plane glided through the sky, you could feel the sun's warmth casting a gentle light on your face. You closed your eyes, not out of fear this time, but contentment, placing your hands on either side of the window and taking a deep breath.

But when you opened your eyes, your eyes began to water, and you found yourself biting your lip as you looked back toward the sun. The words spilled out of you before you knew you had said them, your voice almost sounding broken as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

"Hi, Ridely."

Because there was something about being up here, in the clouds and the surrounding mountains and feeling the sun on your face, that brought you that much closer to her. Some part of you felt guilty for refusing Mav, Nat and even Rooster, to some degree, to take you up and experience this.

She was here with you. And you had never felt more free.

"You ready?" Jake asked you. Unknown to you, he was smiling, having heard your remark. You looked at the back of his head, a grin adding to the happy tears gracing your face. "For what?"

Jake didn't give you a reply. Instead, the plane tilted, and suddenly, the world was turning on its axis. A squeal caught in your throat as you found yourself spinning upside down.

"JAKE, YOU MOTHERFU.."

But your voice caught in your throat before you could finish your sentence, Jake laughing at your reaction.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You didn't really know what to think about it, whether gravity would be pulling you out of your seat or seeing the world below would make you pass out.

The small part of you, still holding on to your fear, wanted to be mad at him. But the part of you, the one secretly enjoying the entire experience, won out.

The truth was, you couldn't help the laughter suddenly escaping your mouth. You couldn't help the smile as Jake accelerated the plane. Or when he let the nose dip ever so slightly to let it fall, you couldn't help the shout of exhilaration.

The rules of aviation or flight were beyond you as he controlled the plane through the air, nerves dying out and instead being replaced with pure joy.

You really could have cared less about being mad at him now.

The world below, and every problem in it, disappeared. And you were alright with that.

___

You didn't want to admit to yourself as Jake finally landed the plane that you never wanted that to end. Even if you should be feeling relief at being on solid ground or when he parked the plane in front of the hanger, you were high on adrenaline and sheer joy. 

You peered up at Jake's hesitant face after he helped you climb out of the plane, standing on wobbly legs. You couldn't do anything but pull him down by the back of his head and kiss him hard. He laughed into the kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your side as he spoke against your lips. "I take it your not afraid of flying anymore?"

You pull away, pressing your forehead to his chin. "Only if you are flying the plane."

It's feeding his ego, you are sure. His chest puffs out under your hands, and that cocky smirk he's known for returns, present in the kisses he's placing on your head.

"So I still have a girlfriend, then?"

You stiffen. Jake would want to put a title on this, even if it was only your 'official' second date. The both of you have done so much of this backwards, way outside the box of how 'normal' relationships were supposed to go. But in a few weeks, Jake and you went from a first date to sleeping in the same bed to him staying over for a week.

When was your and Jake's relationship ever straightforward? And as you told yourself in that bathroom at the fair, there was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

"I didn't know you had one," you say nonchalantly. Jake plays along, hands gripping your hips. 

"Oh, you didn't hear? Big Bad Hangman is suddenly enamoured with this assertive, savvy bartender at the Hard Deck. Turned him down flat on his ass the first time they met. Didn't stop him from wanting to be around her, though." 

"The shameless, cocky flirt who says the wrong thing at the wrong time, humbled by her and her sassy niece." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not to mention she's fucking hot."

You hummed, nodding your head and purposely avoiding looking at his face when he pulled back, your cheeks flaring up hard. 

"Will you look at me, Liz?"

"I can't."

Jake laughs at your reply. "You can't? Now why's that?"

"Because you're all ego right now and boastful, and you get that cocky smirk when you do," you mummer, still purposely avoiding his eyes. That cocky smirk grows even wider as Jake tugs your hips into his.

"You mean this cocky smirk?" he teases, pressing his nose to yours, maintaining his smile. You're fighting with yourself not to smile, but it's a battle you've already lost. Jake nuzzles his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still grinning. And then another to your cheek, just below your eye, before he's littering your face with them, and you laugh as you try to escape him.

"But if you really want to know," he says after you give in, smiling at him as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. "I think you were mine the second you gave me that clean slate in your kitchen."

 "I was yours?" you press playfully, quirking an eyebrow. Jake pauses for a second, making a show of having to think about his answer. Till his face lights up in recognition, and he says," Oh wait."

He makes a show of standing straighter, dropping his voice lower and making his southern accent purposely thicker. "You've bewitched me body and soul since that night in your kitchen."

"Oh," you laugh wholeheartedly, knowing precisely what he's doing. "You're not trying to, Mr. Darcy, this!?"

He frowns. "I thought you liked Pride and Prejudice."

You grin at him, your hands working through his hair before you kiss his lips, pulling back slightly to mummer against his mouth. "That was before I had a decorated hotshot Navy fighter pilot sleeping in my bed."

Jake growls, and you giggle as he bends you backwards, kissing you again.

Stowing away Mav's plane didn't take very long. The two of you were on the road with daylight still out and Jake telling you the night was far from over. He took you to your favourite takeout place before driving to an Outlook, telling you he'd like to come here to think things through.

You know he intends for the both of you to sit on the flatbed of his truck when he backs it into the parking spot, purposely making it face out towards the water. He presses a button before the two of you get out, making the back cover come off. 

But Sadie's involvement in conspiring to get you into the backseat of Mav's plane clearly didn't end with the blindfold. Because the second two of you walk around and Jake drops the tailgate, Sadie's handiwork glares back at you.

You don't know where to look first. Your air mattress sits in the flatbed with a spare mattress cover. A few pairs of blankets are covering it, and you know she would have needed help to get the two spare pillows sitting at the back, the ones you kept on the top shelf of your linen closet.

Of course, Jake could have managed this all on his own. But the dead giveaway was the lights. It only could have been Sadie who had taken the battery-operated string lights you had on the bookcase in your family room and strung them to the sides of his truck, the electrical tape you knew had been Jake's idea.

When you get over your shock, you turn to Jake, absolutely speechless that he let her do all this. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "What? I have to give her credit. Bug's creative."

He set the bag of food down before placing his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the tailgate. "Get yourself comfy, darlin'."

You didn't move. For the sole fact you were wearing a knee-high dress, and if you turned to climb on top of the mattress, he'd get a pretty nice view of your ass. He shot you a look once he hopped up, and you shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You can go first."

He chuckled knowingly. "Nothing I ain't going to see eventually."

It was nice to know Jake's ability to make you bush hadn't waned after recent events.

The two of you settled up against the pillows, takeout containers in both of your laps as you ate, talking about Sadie and what it might look like for her when he had to return to school next week. Then his phone rang. You spied the face-time ID as Jake reached for it on the blanket in front of him.

Janet.

He looked guilty as he asked, "Do you mind if?"

You shook your head, smiling around the fork in your mouth before managing, "Of course not."

Jake handed you his takeout container, bringing his phone up to answer the call. But instead of his sister's face, he was greeted by the sight of a baby in a blue cap.

"Surprise!" Janet's tired voice rang out through the speaker. "Meet your nephew!"

Jake's eyes glazed over the second he stared down at his phone. His hand holding his phone slightly shook, and he reached out to grip the edge of his truck with a thump. You couldn't help yourself when you dropped the takeout containers onto the blanket in front of you and peered up over his shoulder.

"Oh my god, he's adorable."

Suddenly, the camera flipped on his phone, and Jake's sister was staring back at both of you.

Even in a hospital gown, her exhaustion evident, it was clear Janet was Jake's sister. Her hair was the same colour, her eyes the same shade of green. Her mouth was the same shape, and you were sure if she smiled, you would undoubtedly see Jake's same smile beaming back at you.

"Shit, he wasn't kidding when he said you were gorgeous."

You ducked, hiding your face behind Jake's shoulder, heat rising in your cheeks. Whether it was the quickness of your escape or Janet's revealing words, Jake seemed to snap out of his daze.

"Janet!"

"Hey, I gotta embarrass you where I can. Call it payback for all the times you shared my dirty little secrets with Ian."

"Those weren't secrets, Jan. He needed to know what he was getting himself into."

"Bless his heart for it too."

You shook your head, chuckling into the back of Jake's shirt at their banter. Jake looks over his shoulder at you, slightly amused.

"Come out, Liz," Janet called out from the phone. "I don't bite."

"Much," Jake grumbled.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined meeting his sister, one of the few people he actually considered his family. Slowly lifting your head from behind Jake's frame, you managed a hesitant smile, gripping him for dear life. "Congratulations, Janet."

She smiled at you, replying, "Twelve hours of labour, but it was so worth it."

"What did you name him?" you asked, unable to contain the joy in your voice.

"E.J.," she said, looking down at the bundle in her arms before returning to look at the screen, clarifying, "Elijah-Jacob."

Jake drew in a sharp breath, and Janet didn't hesitate when she cried out, "As if I would name him anything else, you idiot."

Resting your chin on Jake's shoulder, you peered up at the side of his face with an affectionate smile. "Your full name's Jacob?"

But he didn't answer you, instead asking his sister, "Now, why on earth would you do something as stupid as that?"

Janet shot him a disappointed look before her eyes tracked over to you. "Liz, will you help me out here?" she said, tilting her head toward Jake.

"Glady," you replied, tapping the back of his head. Jolting under your chin, Jake faced you, slightly shocked. But you only shot him a disapproving glare.

"You're my baby brother. You risk your f-ing life day in and day out every single time you go up in that jet of yours or go out on deployments to make sure everyone else can sleep safely at night. And when you are home? I won't even start on all the shit you stand up against, not with Liz here."

Janet lets out a huge sigh before exclaiming, "So don't question my judgment or my choice. There was no way I was going to name him anything else. Suck it up."

Jake could only shake his head in disbelief, a humbling smile growing with each passing second.

"Now, hand me over to Liz. I wanna talk to her properly."

This is so backwards, you think, as Jake passes his phone over to you with a knowing smile. You are suddenly filled with nervousness you are not used to. This was the one person you knew Jake sought approval from. Everything was riding on this one interaction.

But your nerves settle instantly when she grins at you and casually mentions, "So, he managed to get you up in that death trap."

"It seems everyone knew about this little plan but me, even my niece, dead centre in the middle of it."

Janet grins at the mention of Sadie. "From what Jake has told me about her, she's a girl after my own heart."

"Sassy? Opinionated? Knows how to get her way?"

"Something more like being an insect, but I can see where the similarities lie."

You chuckle softly, feeling Jake rub your side, before you say, "You remind me of her."

"I'd love to meet her one day. And you in person. "

"I'd like that. I'm sure she'd love you."

Jake shook his head violently, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. "My nephew will get all sorts of horrible ideas if he meets Sadie. Don't start him that young!"

You gasp at him. "Are you saying my niece is a troublemaker, Jake Seresin?"

"You know she is."

You shake your head, bumping him with your shoulder.

"Please get my number from my little brother over here. I want somebody to send cute baby pics to," Janet pouts.

"Could you send me embarrassing stories?" you wiggle your eyebrows. Janet smirks, a playful look in her tired eyes. "Oh, you want them. I'll give them to you, no problem."

 Oh boy, did you like her.

"Nope." Jake tries to reach for his phone, but you are quicker, laughing at his attempts as you stretch your hand out of his reach. "You have a ten-year-old in the palm of your hand who has an honesty problem and years of embarrassing stories about me. Let me have my chance!"

"In comparison? Nope. Not even close. Give me my phone." Jake holds out the palm of his hand. And then you get an idea, shooting him a playful stare as you extend your hand farther.

"Come and get it, Cowboy."

Suddenly, Jake lurches forward, almost toppling you over. Jake's efforts to retrieve his phone only cause you to break out in a fit of giggles, your stomach cramping so much you fall over into the air mattress, Jake landing on top of you. Your grip on his phone is still tight.

"If my sister wasn't on the other end..." There is no threat in his words. Jake's smiling with you as you continue to laugh, trying to pry the device out of your hand. Janet's shout through her own laughter interrupts the two of you. "Keep it pg, you two! Literal newborn ears over here!"

Jake manages to swipe his phone back when you laugh even harder at her words. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his as you try to fit yourself into the view of his phone screen when the two of you settle.

Janet looks up at something in her room and frowns. "I gotta go. The nurse will come back any minute and yell at me, I swear."

The both of you say your goodbyes, Janet explaining more than once she was happy Jake found you. But just before he went to end the call, Janet called out his name. 

"Watch out for a package from Texas coming up there."

Jake's smile flees at Janet's words, slowly dissolving into a sombre expression. His body tenses under your touch, and you see the second his eyes darken with a deep-seated seriousness. It's a side to Jake you've only truly ever seen once before - when he found you handcuffed on the floor of the Hard Deck.

Growing up, you and Ridley had all sorts of codewords and phrases for different things. Those were the unfortunate circumstances you had to live with as a kid. So you knew right away Janet didn't mean an actual package. Whatever it was, Jake was clearly not happy about it. It was making you deeply concerned. 

Jake reaches for your thigh, grip tightening when he replies, "Yeah, okay."

He hangs up. And doesn't mention anything else about it.

__

After finishing your dinner in silence, you sat next to Jake, staring out at the horizon. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tight to his side. At some point, you had placed both of your legs over his lap, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

It was still light out when Jake and you left the tiny airport, and the sky was now turning dark, leaving the small parking lot of Jake's outlook out secluded, the two of you alone and in utter peace. His fingers were absentmindedly stroking your skin as you both took in the last few minutes of the sunset.

"You okay?" you asked him, kissing his shoulder before looking back over the water, suddenly aware of Jake's hand slowly getting closer to the inside of your thigh. He kissed your cheek, replying, "Never better."

You don't buy it.

"You're an uncle now," you wondered aloud. Jake shrugged. "I already was one."

"But it's different. Sadie is..."

"Sadie counts." He quickly corrected you, kissing your forehead before looking back to the water. "She'll always count."

It warms you, his level of affection for her, but you cannot help but detect a sense of finality in his tone. Reaching up, you cradled the side of his jaw, turning his head back to you so you could lean up and kiss him.

Jake presses his lips to yours softly before pulling back to look at you. There's something in his eyes you cannot name.

Then his lips are back on yours, this time steady and encompassing, parting your lips with his tongue. Your grip on his face tightens as you suddenly find yourself being tilted backwards, sliding down the pillows until Jake is half on top of you. Your head is pillowed on his bicep as he kisses you, your hand still cradling his jaw. 

He then goes for your neck in a desperate breath, open-mouth kisses, sucking harder and harder. You're used to this. The two times Jake had you pinned up against him, he had marked up the side of your neck. But his hand, not trapped under your head, is wandering. Groping at your breast, sliding down your stomach to the outside of your thigh, testing his grip. 

He hikes your outside leg up, fingers brushing the sensitive part inside your thigh.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into your ear. You hummed your reply, nodding once. But Jake grazed his nose along your jawbone lightly, fingers delicately sliding up and down the inside of your thigh.

"Words, Elizabeth."

Damn him and his accent, saying your full name.

"Yes," you gasped out, wanting him. "It's absolutely okay."

"My good girl," he says before diving back to your mouth. You know he's teasing you as he strokes your skin, making you quiver with anticipation of what is to come. But then he's reaching for the helm of your dress, lifting and folding it over your stomach, as he releases your lips in a harsh pant. 

The question is there in his eyes as he looks down at you, fingers resting just on the helm of your underwear. You swallow, opening your legs wide. Jake's eyes glaze over, and his arm flexes under your head. You're giving him this—this first experience of letting someone be with you. 

He doesn't hesitate when he starts dragging them down. You eagerly lift your hips to help him take them off. Once he gets them past your ankles, he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Jake hisses when he takes you in, so spread out for him. "Can I touch, darlin'? Can I touch what is mine?" 

Fucking hell, Jake. Do you have a consent kink?!

"I'm yours," you gasp into the night air. "Please, Jake, Please."

Jake rests half on top of you, swallowing your whimper as he finally reaches and presses down on your clit, slow, gentle circles that have you closing your legs and sharp breaths racking your chest. Your hand shoots out and grips his wrist, feeling his muscles contract under your hand.  

"Keep them open, Liz," he warns, shifting down slightly so he can turn you and press you back against his chest. Jake slots his leg between yours, expertly thrusting his knee so your leg hooks up over his, never stopping in his efforts.

He rubs at you with ease, carefully watching how each movement makes you react before he switches to his thumb, and a single-finger probes at your entrance. You thrust your hips back into him, a strangled noise crawling out of your throat, and Jake uses it as an opportunity to push his finger inside. 

"That sound, " He breathes against your cheek. "You're driving me goddamn insane."

You used to worry back in university that you'd feel trapped if you ever found someone you trusted enough to do with this. But even with Jake poised at your back, working between your legs, you did not feel as if you weren't in control. Your body is open to the air, and Jake is only holding you down by his hand and the weight of his words. 

You feel safe. 

He adds another finger, curling them inside you, searching for something when you let out a sharp whine. It burns. The stretch. The sensations that were spreading across your groin. 

You felt full with Jake's finger's inside you, squelching sounds accompanying each time pumped them in and out of you.  "You're so tight," he moaned into your neck. "I won't have you here, but fuck Liz, the day I can have you gripping my cock." 

You bury your squeal into the flesh of his arm, your arm not currently gripping Jake's wrist, whipping out to find the side of his truck, making a string of lights fall. 

Not slow. This is not slow. 

"Knowing I'm your first." He bites the soft skin behind your ear. "That your mine." 

Your cry is muffled into this arm, and Jake glides his nose up the back of your neck to your ear. "Don't look away, Liz," he soothes. "Let me see your face."

It's the last thing you want him to see, ironically. The faces you make aren't pretty, and your eyes are slammed shut. And you were sure if you did open your eyes, you'd explode at the slight; you spread out so shamelessly open to the sky. Jake's hand between your legs, working you higher and higher off an unknown edge from the flatbed of his truck. 

But you do manage to turn your head back, Jake immediately catching your mouth with his in a desperate kiss. When he lets your mouth go, you whine out with a pant, "Fuck Jake, I can't." 

"Yes, yes, you can." Your words must have encouraged him because suddenly, his thumb is circling faster, and his fingers are pressing harder, working that spot inside you. Your eyes are screwed shut, tears seeping through as the ball in your abdomen grows tighter and tighter, nails biting into his wrist. 

"Are you going to let go for me, darlin'," he gasps into your open mouth, hovering above you. You wanted to, desperately. "Will you let me have it? 

You drop your head to his arm, the feeling too much to bear. You are on the edge of something, fire radiating from your core and making your thighs shake. Jake pants into your ear, once, twice before he moans, "Will you cum for me?"

His thumb swipes over your clit as he presses hard on that spot inside you. You keen, lights exploding behind your eyes as you arch your hips towards his hand, legs trembling as you clench around Jake's fingers. The cool breeze from the sea or the cool air from the night sky does nothing to the heat flooding your veins.

He's there. Turning your head back, catching your cries into his mouth, and taking the bruises you're pressing into his arm without flinching. In fact, he's smiling ever so slightly, watching you come apart underneath him.

You weakly turn in his hold, whimpering and trying to bury yourself into his chest as every emotion hits you at once. Jake pulls his fingers from you as you do, and you feel embarrassed at the wetness coating your thighs. Gripping the back of your leg, he rolls, taking you with him. Your body crashes limply onto his chest, and the one leg he's holding straddles his waist.

Your trembling, gripping his shirt to ground yourself and will strength back into your body.  There's a hyper-awareness you are not used to dancing across your skin - allowing you to feel the fabric of the blanket underneath you, the chill in the air, Jake's warmth, your release cooling on your thighs and covering his fingers, grasping your bare leg.

Any rational thought has gone out the window. Except for the fact you know Jake could not have gotten off from that.

He's hard against the inside of your thigh, through the denim of his jeans, the rough fabric creating friction against your clit as you rock lightly to the pulses aching in your core. He's groaning with each press, fighting with himself not to cant his hips up into you.

Even as you continue to whimper your aftershocks into his neck, you find yourself trailing your hand down his chest and to his stomach, fingers barely slipping under the waistband of his jeans, just reaching the first few strains of hair.

But Jake grunts, pulling your hand away and shaking his head. He brings it up to his mouth, kissing the palm before stating, "It's not about me right now."

"Jake..."

He doesn't give in to the soft pleading of this name. Instead, he grips the roots of your hair at the base of your skull, ensuring there isn't an inch of space between you as he pulls you close. His other hand is gripping the bare skin of your ass, keeping your dress up around your hips and lower half exposed to the cool air.

This time, you do feel trapped.

He's holding you like you'd be carried off by the breeze, ready to disappear at any second. As if faced with another deployment, off to fight a war with the fear of never making it back. The switch in him is so sudden that the aftershocks of your recent orgasm are reduced to cooling embers, and it only adds to your unease when Jake gasps through a sharp breath, "Just let me hold you and forget about everything else."

The concern you felt for him earlier returns with a vengeance.

Jake's anxious about something, and he's not telling you why. Suddenly, the chill in the air is too cold, the blanket is too rough, and Jake's fingers and the insides of your thighs are chalky, rubbing against your skin.

You focus on breathing instead, trying to calm your rapid heart. You weren't going to hold whatever this was against him.

Because despite not knowing what to think about having your real first sexual experience in the flatbed of Jake's truck, you today were the happiest you had felt in a while, even with literal hell overtaking your life. 

But listening to Jake's heartbeat pound under your ear, the paranoia you've ignored so many times before makes a home in your chest, and the allusion that was today dissipates, and everything comes rushing back. Tyler. Bradley. And now, whatever Janet warned Jake about that was making him act this way.

It was all a possibility again.

You couldn't help but feel this silver of happiness wouldn't last that much longer.

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Part 15: Have you ever seen the rain? Coming soon

Wickett ;)

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[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 21 - My Fair Lady

📜 Merry Christmas, you filthy animals! 😏😂

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!!), they finally do it! (first times, nakedness, sex, all that jazz --> So yes, that is a spoiler!).

#10k words (this one is long, and I'm not apologizing for it, LOL)

Part 20 | Masterlist | Part 22

With Sadie away at camp, you finally got the time and the opportunity to surprise her and redo your guest room into her room.

The house was a mess. Boxes of new furniture waiting to be built: a desk, a bookcase, a new bedframe. Her mattress slanted against the hallway. Old white sheets covered every inch of the floor and things that could not be moved.

You'd taken the shade off one of the bedside table lamps and stuck it in the corner of the room, its soft, warm light guiding you as you stood on a ladder, carefully stroking a painter's brush covered in green paint just below the edge of the ceiling, balancing the paint bucket on the top step.

The problem you had with projects like these was that you didn't really know when to stop. Staring when it was still light out, nothing but music playing softly through the speakers from your vinyl player, it was well past 2 AM before you knew it.

At least this passion project was one of the few things keeping you from obsessively worrying about Jake. And Bradley.

The static noise popping through your speakers was a welcome relief for your neck. With one last paint stroke, you climbed down the ladder, picturing your records and what one you could put on next. You bit your lip, reaching up to grab the bucket and the lid from the top step, covering it and hitting it closed with a thump.

You knelt next to the crate, searching for the record you had in mind when a persistent knock at your front door startled you. You weren't expecting anyone, let alone in the witching hours of the early morning.

Everything that happened with Tyler left you weary. Every white car you passed on the street made your skin crawl, and when Penny finally re-opened the Hard Deck and you returned to work, each time the door swung open in a dramatic fashion, you half expected to see Tyler standing there, a predatory glare in his eyes.

People also had a habit of knocking on your door late at night to deliver bad news. But something told you you needed to answer it anyway.

You slowly tip-toed down your hallway, plastering yourself to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever knocked on your door before peering through the peephole. Shocked to see the person pacing back and forth along your front porch, you whipped the door open.

"Alyssa?"

She stopped pacing, twisting her body towards the sound of your voice.

As long as you knew her, Lyssa had never once cried in front of you or came close to being visibly upset. She was direct, used humour in the most inappropriate moments, and always played things close to the chest. To see her face, beat red and tears streaming down her face, you couldn't help your unease.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Is Will okay?" you asked her.  "What's' wrong?"

She shook her head, stepping in front of you. "Um, no, he's okay. We need to get down to Top Gun. Now."

"Top Gun? It's almost three in the morning."

She shook her head again. "Will's father got word an aircraft carrier got caught in a hurricane somewhere overseas. It sunk. They're bringing in the survivors now."

Heart dropping into your stomach, your legs wobbled. You fell against your door frame, hands gripping the wood tight enough to hurt. Your throat was screaming at you, and you couldn't swallow. 

There was only one other time you could compare to how you were feeling now.

Friday nights were the worst fucking days of your life.

"Please don't tell me..." you croaked. "Please don't tell me it was theirs."

You gripped Jake's dog tags tight as you caught her harsh gulp, her face remaining stark. She didn't say anything. Not that she needed to. The very fact she was on your doorstep told you everything you needed to know.

She wouldn't have come to get you otherwise.

"Come on, we need to go," she managed to say through a harsh swallow.

You don't know how you managed to loosen your grip on your door frame or how you laced your shoes without screwing up the knots. Or how you got your key in the lock with your shakey hand.

You don't know how you got into the passenger seat of Alyssa's car, either. Or how you managed to put your seat belt on or not throw up as she sped out of your driveway and down to the highway.

A small part of you whithers when you realize you wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been here, hadn't Alyssa's Ex caught wind of it. Nat, Bob, and the rest of the daggers would have, too, eventually, but they probably wouldn't have been informed until it was too late.

You don't even know what's waiting for you at Top Gun, whether both Jake and Bradley were or weren't there. Or only one of them. Or if they would even let you in.

The gates were open to the facility when the two of you arrived. Lyssa followed several cars that were already pulling into the winding entrance, the line starting to build as more and more started to appear from the opposite direction. You leaned forward in your seat as she pulled into the parking lot, your heart in your throat as you tried to see behind the building to the runway. All you saw were blinking red and white lights against the night sky.

Alyssa hadn't even moved the parking brake when you threw yourself out of her car, not bothering to wait for her. The cool night wind bit at your face as you searched the building, looking for any indication they were letting people in. You spied a group of people charging across the parking lot to an open side door, someone in dress kaki's manning it. You followed them, skidding across the pavement as you reached the door, trying not to run anyone over and barrel through the crowd.

Cyclone saw you before you saw him, shouting out your full name amongst the chaos to urge you to the front to let you in with the next group. The words spill out of your mouth before you realize you're saying them. "Do you know if...?"

He shook his head. "If they did, they'll be on the next plane that came in."

A million thoughts skitter through your mind, like spiders across a floor, yet you push them aside.

"I have a friend, Lyssa. Let her in next."

He nodded without complaint, knocking hard on the door to let the group in.

Whether it was the threat of being yelled at for running or that they were inside the famous Navy facility, nobody moved quicker than a brisque walk.

You'd take on any military officer who would dare yell at you for the way you tried to weave in and out of the throngs of people.

The hallway you were guided down led to a hanger. The space had been turned into a temporary relief centre, with tables, cots, and supplies filling every inch. Medics were already helping a few of the officers who looked worse for wear, and dread filled you each time you spun, another injured officer upon another.

You weren't sure you were relieved or scared with each face you saw. Whatever they had to go through to get here, one thing was for certain. They had to do so in a rush.

You halted when you spotted the large military-like plane Cyclone spoke about sitting on the runway in the distance, viewable from the wide open door. Whether it had been there before or it had just arrived, you didn't know. Nor did you question it any further. The only thing that mattered was if Jake and Bradley were on that plane.

But with each group of people that passed, there was no sign of them.

Alyssa finally caught up to you, grabbing your arms from behind and tugging you backwards. "Liz," she started to say, but you tore out of her grasp.

"We didn't have time. We didn't have time," you said repeatedly, threading your fingers through your hair next to your temples. Alyssa reached out again, this time turning you by your raised elbows as you continued to force yourself to breathe. She pushed, and you slowly lost your hold on your roots, lowering your arms until she was grasping at your hands.

"I didn't want to tell him I loved him over a letter. I didn't want our last words to each other to be over a piece of paper," you cried out, trying to tug away. She didn't let go, her grip tight. It made you sob harder.

"I can't go through this again! Not with them, not with him. Not after everything Sadie and I have ever suffered through. It's too much, Alyssa!" you were on the verge of screaming. "We've been through enough!"

Lyssa opened her mouth, words just barely sounding out before her eyes locked on to something behind you. She gasped, and you twisted sharply, watery eyes searching a new crowd of officers making their way off the tarmac and into the hanger. You squinted your eyes, the night sky and the bright white lights from inside making it harder to make out faces.

A cluster of Navy officers broke off from the crowd, parting the way.

Then you saw them.

Both of them.

Jake was favouring a leg as he leaned against Bradley for support, hobbling along as they finally reached the entrance to the hanger, searching for a temporary cot. Even at a distance, you could make out a cut framing his eye, and one side of his face was bruised.

But he was here. He was whole.

He was alive.

You couldn't help it. You charged forward, no feeling in your legs as you zoomed past other families and officers, probably a few high-ranking officials in your paint-smattered shirt and overalls. Time slowed down for you as you ran, even if you were running as if your life depended on it.

"JAKE!"

Jake lifted his head at the sound of your voice, urging Bradley to stop. Bradley looked at him funny, watching his eyes glaze over and wondering if Jake hit his head harder than the medics originally thought. But then he followed his gaze, only to see you charging forward without a care in the world to reach him, and he knew.

Bradley unhooked his arm from around Jake's shoulders, steadying him for a second and then letting go, stepping to the side so you could have your moment.

You slid along the floor as you came to a halt in front of Jake, worried he was more damaged than you could see, arms reaching for him. Jake bracketed his arms tightly around your back the second you touched him, and you buried your face into his shoulder. He grunted as he pulled you tight, shoving his nose into your collarbone.

Jake smelt of the sea, of gasoline and sweat. His flight suit felt ripped under your hands as you tried to find a grip. Or maybe you were trying to assure yourself he was really there. Your mind flashed through all the possible things he might have gone through with each caress, your cries getting louder with each one.

Yet in your panic, you pulled back from his hug, only to take his face into your hands and kiss him hard.

"I love you," you gasped out between kisses. "I'm not getting you go. I'm here. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Jake's response was instant, fingers quickly gripping the back of your neck, the roots of your hair, to drive your head at all the angles he wanted, all the ways that made it easier for him to devour you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, pulling away from his lips with a tightness in your chest. Your eyes fell on his lips, red and slightly swollen, and you were positive yours were the same. Until you looked up at those green eyes and the rest of the hanger, everyone else, faded away.

Jake smiled at you.

"Hi, Darlin.'"

You huffed a sad laugh through your tears, letting yourself fall into his body, hiding your face in his chest, sobbing.

Jake didn't let the grip on your neck go, curving his hand against the skin, holding you to him. His other arm, at some point, had dropped down to your waist. Whether it was to keep himself upright or keep you from falling over, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. Because Jake was pressing his mouth into your hair and closing his eyes to relish the feel of you in his arms.

He was home.

You turned your head against his chest to look over at Bradley, slightly surprised to see him hugging Alyssa. Her forehead was leaning against her hands, currently shaped into a triangle against his chest. She was shaking with silent sobs as Bradley hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The panic you felt before settles in your chest, warmth wrapping around your rib cage. As if he felt your eyes on him, Bradley opened his eyes, resting his cheek atop her head. You reached out, Bradley instantly extending his arm to grasp your hand. You smiled sadly at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes, squeezing his hand before burying your head back into Jake's chest, not once letting go.

Feeling you move against him, Jake lifted his head, catching your hand holding Bradley's. He found Bradley looking at the two of you with a smile, in a similar position, with Alyssa wrapped around him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Rooster?" he said, eyes gesturing to Alyssa. You shook with silent laughter against his chest.

Bradley smiled at you, at Jake, before closing his eyes and letting his lips graze Alyssa's forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your saviour?"

There was no malice in Jake's words when he dropped his head back down to press a kiss into your hair, flippantly shooting back, "Don't push it, Bradshaw. I'm still ahead by one."

---

The ride home had been quiet.

After some harsh convincing by you and Alyssa, Jake and Bradley were allowed to leave. You had gotten the run down by one of the medical officers about Jake. He had no concussion and no broken bones but had ended up with quite a large amount of water in his lungs and a significant amount of bruising the days before.

You caught snippets of Rooster's conversation with the medics, enough to know what happened. You didn't want to know the deeper details unless Jake wanted to talk to you about it. Knowing he almost drowned and Bradley had saved him was enough.

He wasn't at risk of a secondary drowning, but more so pneumonia or an Edema. You'd be calling an ambulance at the first sign of a cough.

Bradley was helping Jake up the steps of your front porch as you went ahead and unlocked your door. Lyssa spotted Jake from below, hands out and ready. Despite her tiny frame, she was there, ready to catch him should he need help.

You were quietly surprised to see Bradley being the one to help Jake. You knew it wouldn't have been easy for either of them: Jake, who didn't want to need to accept the help at all, and Bradley, for whom he was helping.

But once Jake cleared the last step and straightened himself, he patted Bradley on the shoulder, murmuring a 'Thanks, Rooster' before limping over to you.

You looked up at him with a smile, cocking the side of your head in Bradley's direction before saying, "I'll meet you inside?"

Jake nodded, then nodded once to Rooster before continuing inside. Lyssa had walked off back to her car around the same time, leaving only you and Bradley standing alone on your porch. You pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Bradley. For saving his life."

Rooster stiffened at your touch but slowly relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around your back. "I know it's not worth much, but I'm truly sorry Lizzie," he murmured. "For all of it."

You shook your head against his shoulder, murmuring a low "Don't," but Bradley pressed on.

"I've been an ass since the start. I've been the one doing all the things I said Jake would do," he said next to your ear, refusing to let you go. "I think I was more worried about being replaced.. and everything else... I just didn't want to see you and the bug getting hurt. The rule was to put Sadie first. Instead, I was the one doing all that. He really does care about the two of you despite some of his faults."

You pulled back from the hug but still left your hand on his shoulder, wiping at your eyes. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?"

Bradley gave a fond look, and you could only stare at him for a second before a smile shot across your face. "Sadie?"

You had wondered what she had scribbled in that letter. She was shifty about it, too, refusing to let you see anything anytime you walked by.

Something told you you'd never know.

Rooster grinned. "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Her and the fact, this one saved me yet again. Then gave me a heart attack."

You smiled, looking back at your open door. "I'd like to think he was giving you the chance to make it up to us."

Bradley dropped his chin to his chest, still smiling, before he looked over to Alyssa, leaning against the driver's side of her car.

"Call me if you need help?" he offered, stepping forward to place a hand on your forearm before turning to proceed down your front steps.

"I think we'll be okay," you replied softly, not really caring if he heard you, still staring at your front door.

--- 

 The tension inside the house hit you like a wave the second you closed the door. It was just Jake and you now, and despite everything that transpired the past few hours, you felt nervous. 

Looking down, you spied Jake's boots neatly lined up next to some of yours, making you wonder how he managed to get them off. It made you undo your laces slowly, tactically, as if to stall time. 

Something about standing here made everything more real. 

There was also the bit about you sending him that partial nude. And that letter - which you weren't as concerned about. But that damn photo, all inspired by a moment of brevity, had you yelling to yourself, what the hell did I just do? when you dropped it off at Penny's.

You couldn't worry about the shame currently building in the pit of your stomach. You had to press on.

Jake was hurt. He needed you. 

“Jake?” you called out softly, not expecting to find him hunched over, leaning against the wall of your hallway, facing you. You held out your hands, ready to grab him and support him. That was until he sharply lifted his head, eyes the only thing you could truly make out in the dim lighting, the dawn just peeking through your windows. You froze, lowering them, your voice stuck in your throat. Those eyes were challenging you to move, daring you to escape, to make a sound in the dead silence that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. With the predatory glint in his eyes, you knew right away what he wanted to talk about. 

Yet, Jake is the one to break the silence first.

"Where's Sadie?"

"Camp."

You feel like you've just given him the green light for something with those words. He seemed to know it, too.

"What can I do to help you?" the question comes out more quietly than you were anticipating.

Jake straightens himself with a groan but doesn't remove his eyes from you. On the contrary, they are still sharp and as intense as when he first saw you.

"Liz," he spoke lowly. 

He takes a step forward. You take one back. 

"I think you know the answer to that." 

"Do I?" you breathe out, taking another step, and he stalks forward as much as he is able. 

He nods once. "I got your letter. And your photo."

Your back hits the wall - you can go no further. 

It's not as if you couldn't escape him or tell him to stop. Jake is pinning you with his eyes as he approaches you and cages you against the wall. You know if you told him to stop, that all this was too much, he'd back away. 

You don't want him to, though. 

"Darlin," he roughs out, a hand reaching for your hip, his mouth next to your ear. "I've thought of nothing else."

Your trembling, heaving though no sound is coming out. You knew Jake was tall, muscled, and built like a freaking horse. It's stupid how the thought crosses your mind once again. You feel small against him, pressed up against the wall. 

"I take it you liked it?" 

You have no idea where this courage is coming from. 

"Liked it?" he pressed a kiss on your neck below your ear. "I got hard just looking at it." 

You title your head back against the wall; eyes closed, an arm coming up to wrap around his neck as Jake continues to press small kisses into your skin, slowly starting to add his teeth. An arm shoots around your waist, tugging you into him, and you gasp, racking up the wall with the movement. 

"Jake," you gasped to the ceiling, digging your fingers into his hair. He winced against your neck with a groan, pausing. You wondered if you had accidentally injured him more. Because as much as Jake was desperately trying to merge himself into your skin, as much as he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you, he was utterly exhausted.

And he was hurt.

"There's nothing more I want than to be with you right now," you said calmly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, sobering the moment. "But you're exhausted. And hurt, Jake. When was the last time you slept? "

Jake sighed into your neck, weight sagging with him, "Only a few minutes on the flight home. Not sure when before that."

It was true. Bradley had managed to resurface with him strung across his back, carrying Jake the rest of the way up that stairwell. His memory was fractured into bits and pieces of moments when he opened his eyes. Him being carried on a stretcher, Rooster sitting next to him in a med tent, voices yelling, and people poking and prodding at him. The flight home was when he really started to get his memory back, but he didn't dare fall back asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream and he really did die back there.

You frowned. "Let me take care of you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, you carefully untangled yourself from his hold, sliding down the wall. Hooking your arm around his waist, you led him down your hall to your bathroom. Jake's grip on your body was anchored tight. Hand threaded through the opposite pocket of your overalls, a part of him always touching you.

Leaving him to lean against your bathroom counter, you spun to turn on the shower, ensuring the water was okay before coming to stand in front of him once more. Resting your hands on his chest, you toyed with the zipper of his damaged flight suit.

"Do you need help?" you asked him softly.

He knew he could manage without you, even with his back being out of sorts. Yet, he still softly replied, "Go ahead."

You ranked your eyes over the fabric as you pulled down the tab of his zipper. His suit was ripped in some places, and large chunks were torn out, revealing the black tank he was wearing underneath. The zippers of the side pockets were misaligned, and while both of his patches were still intact, the threads were sticking out around the borders, making them unusable.

You made a note in the back of your mind to steal them the second you could.

Once the zipper reached the end, you moved both of your hands down to his chest, taking both sides and pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Yet you stilled when you felt something hard in one of the pockets, instantly unfolding the fabric and unzipping the pocket, Jake watching you with hooded eyes. You pulled out a water-tight bag, gasping when you saw your letter and the various polaroids through the clear material.

"You.. You saved them?"

Jake let go of your hips to shrug the piece of clothing off, freeing his arms. He placed one hand on your hip, the other taking the bag from you, holding them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jake's voice was quiet.

You felt a lump in your throat, tracing the bag in his hands. You were curious to know which one is the cockpit photo, but you also know your spontaneous, risky shot is also in with them. It's not that you didn't regret it, nor did Jake's enthusiastic reaction deter you, but you still felt that little bit of shame and embarrassment knowing the physical proof still existed.

"I... I didn't think they would mean that much to you. It was just a thing Sadie and I did so you wouldn't feel left out," you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"They were all I had of you and Sadie out there."

It guts you, the simplicity of such a statement, yet packed with so much meaning.

Jake placed the bag behind him on the counter, ready to resume his grip on your body. Except his eyes caught sight of the pieces of metal dangling over the front of your chest, and he reached out to take his Dog Tags into the palm of his hand.

"You're wearing them."

You followed the chain to stare at the two pieces of metal. Your reply was soft, "I rarely took them off."

He didn't need to know about your breakdown. Not yet. You had said enough in your letter for him to know you had done what you needed to do, but he didn't need to know about the events that led up to it.

That was a conversation for another day.

Jake sighed, letting them drop back down in between the two of you, hand curving around your hip and pressing his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you felt him fiddling with the clasp on your hip, never fully releasing it from its hold.

He didn't need to voice it for you to know the question behind the action. It was clear as day as to what he was asking of you.

Will you join me?

Remember all those times over the past year you told yourself to fuck it? This was definitely getting added to all those other times.

Because you found yourself reaching down to your side and finishing the job, releasing the button from his hold. You felt Jake's breath against your mouth, warm and wet, as he slid his hand up to one of the front clasps, popping the buttons out of the hooks as he tugged, repeating the process with the other.

The two straps fell down your back, and you held your arms up in a silent invitation. Jake seemed to hold his breath as he pulled at your battered shirt, up over your head, to reveal your bare breasts.

He tossed your shirt to the side in the general direction of your laundry basket, but you didn't take your eyes off his to find out if it hit its mark. You feel no shame as he dropped his gaze. He's seen them before, kissed them, touched them. But the way his eyes rake over them makes it seem like it's the first time he has.

But when you reach for his black tank, pulling at the hem to work it over his body, you catch the view of his back in your mirror and let out a terrifying gasp.

His back is one big purple bruise, marring his skin. It spread from the curve of his right shoulder blade, sinking its way across his spine and ending near his hip. The only comparison you could draw to it was a painter's palette of cool colours mixed in with black. Whatever he had hit, it was clear the impact had been severe.

"Jake," you cry out, stepping to the side so you can turn him and see the damage for yourself, not in some reflection.

"How bad is it? The medics told me it's there."

"It's not pretty." 

It was the most accurate statement you could give him without wanting to double or even triple-check the work of the medics on him. He let you investigate the bruised skin for a few seconds more before moving out of your grasp and facing you. 

"Come on," he uttered. "Let's get under the water." 

You quickly removed the rest of your clothing, letting the rest of your overalls and underwear fall to the floor, using your toes to work off your socks. Jake managed to get the remainder of his flight suit off with little struggle, boxers included. 

You weren't ashamed of your body. But you were a little apprehensive, letting Jake see everything in its entirety. It makes you step into the shower first, almost as if you were trying to run away. 

All this is new to you. And the internal battle currently raging on in your head was making you hesitant. Because even standing here, naked in your shower, Jake's eyes ranking over you like you were his last meal from behind the glass door, you still fought with yourself not to look at him.

But let's be real. You were a virgin, new to all of this.

You definitely looked.

And tried to mute the squeal that was trying to crawl its way out of your throat as you turned to let the running water hit your face. You could hear Jake's warm chuckle from behind you as he stepped into the boxed space.

"Like what you see?" he spoke lowly into your ear, dragging your back to rest against his front by your elbows.

"I'm not going to answer that question. 'Cause we both know if I do, it's going to lead to something."

You could feel all his ridges and sharply defined muscles against your back, and it took you everything not to mould yourself into him. Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, before resting his cheek against yours. "And what would that be?"

"Jake..." you warned, your voice slightly shakey.

"Not tonight," he replied, dragging his hands up your arms. "I just wanted to see how far that blush of yours goes."

"Oh, you kinky.." but he didn't let you finish, catching your mouth in an opened-mouth kiss. You moaned, tilting your head back before turning to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You released his lips to glaze up into his eyes, taking the moment to assure yourself yet again he was here with you. You matched his soft smile before he zoned in on your cheek, reaching up to thumb the skin. His face was hardened in concentration, no doubt rubbing at a stroke of paint you'd accidentally marked yourself with, working to get it off. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"What's this from?"

"I'm painting Sadie's room, trying to make it more hers as a Birthday gift."  

Jake hummed. 

The two of you continued to shower together, you mostly helping Jake. You tried not to get too caught up in staring at him, biting your lip in concretion as you rubbed body wash over him. You felt his eyes on your face the entire time, and you tried to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. 

Jake made you spin around to face the showerhead to return the favour. Feeling his hands caress your skin, letting him work the soap under the swells of your breast, along your arms, even down the panel of your stomach, you had to fight the arousal pooling in between your legs. 

Not to mention, you could feel him growing hard and heavy against your lower back. 

"This isn't fair. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you," you murmured, leaning your head back against his shoulder.  

He pressed a delicate kiss to your collarbone. "This is taking care of me." 

You ended up getting out first, picking up each of your discarded clothing, throwing them in the basket, and reaching for the towels you kept on the makeshift shelf on your wall as Jake finished with his hair. You saw the frown on his face when he stepped out, and you rolled your eyes affectionately at him, handing him a towel.

Helping him to your room, you left him to sit on the corner of your bed. You rummaged through your top drawer, pulling out the pair of his boxers you had accidentally missed when you packed up his bag. You found them on the day you were getting things ready to visit Ridley.

He took them without a word while you pulled on your sleep shirt and underwear, ironically the same baggy nightshirt you wore the night of that damn thunderstorm where he kissed you.

Climbing into your bed, you held up your comforter as an invitation. He fell face-first into your chest with an aching groan, grabbing your sides to pull himself half on top of you, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck.

Your suspicions from before are finally confirmed. Because even as he held you, Jake was desperately fighting sleep.

Pressing a delicate kiss to the cut on his cheek, you grazed your lips up until you could press them just below his hairline, your fingers threading themselves soothingly through his hair.

"Go to sleep," you whispered into his forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

---

You slowly awoke to the sensation of lips delicately pressing soft kisses into your forehead and fingers stroking along the back of your arm, the occasional touch of warm metal accompanying the touch. You mewled, curling yourself deep into the apex of his shoulder, lulled by sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest. "I should be awake. I'd sleep the day away like this if I could."

Jake hummed, resuming his gentle caresses. He had raked down your sleep shirt along your back, fingers now dragging up and down your spine, getting lower and lower each time he did it, causing you to shiver.

"I had a dream like this. While I was away on the carrier," he spoke, pressing another kiss to your temple. "At the ranch in Texas. In my room above the barn."

"Tell me?" you yawned, still half asleep, warm and content.

Jake nosed into your cheek, trailing it over your skin as he spoke, "The two of us. In my bed. Naked."

You shook silently with laughter, turning your head back against his arm. "Of course you did."

You would have seen Jake smiling down at you had you decided to open your eyes.

"I'd dream I woke up with your back to me, sheets resting low on the curve of your back." He slid the back of his fingers across your exposed shoulder, getting lost in the image in his head. "The barn door was open, catching the first rays of sunlight in your hair. There must have been a storm cause the grass was so green, everything was so right."

You leaned away from his chest, resting your head further back on his arm to peer up at his face. Jake's hair is dishevelled, his eyes harbouring the remnants of sleep, worn and puffy. His bruise had already begun to yellow, and his cut didn't appear red or as swollen. Yet, looking up at him from within the safety of his arms, huddled against his massive chest, you find yourself wishing you could control the way air catches in your throat.

"Sounds perfect."

Jake smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you. You moan in protest, turning your head away and barely managing an "I have morning breath" to Jake as his lips land on your cheek.

"I don't care," he rasped into your ear. You turned your head back, and he placed his mouth on yours.

You give as much as he is giving you, letting Jake caress your tongue with his, letting him take and take at his pleasure, until he is releasing your mouth and mouthing across your cheek.

He’s taking his time with you, something so different from the previous times you've found yourself against or under him, at the mercy of his mouth and hands. There's hesitation in his movements, wary of making any sudden, intense movements that might have you bolt. 

"You're taking your time," you say aloud, carting your fingers through his hair. Jake laps gently at the corner of your neck, hand stroking down the side of your leg. He pulls back to stare at your face, you meeting his gaze.

"I almost didn't have time."

God, you know how true that statement is. And the fact, the Jake who left you standing at the end of your driveway all those weeks ago wasn't the exact same one who returned to you. 

Jake travels down the length of your body, and you let him push up your oversized shirt, revealing your breasts. "Hello, girls," he grinned, pressing a single kiss to each breast. "Oh, how I've missed you."

It makes you laugh, carting your fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. You can feel him smile against your skin. But then he is trailing his nose down your core, down your stomach, lightly grazing your skin with his lips as he goes. You watch him with careful eyes, your breath picking up quickly.

You know his intentions, where this is going, what it would evidently end up being. And you’re okay with that. You trust him, and you love him. There wasn’t anyone else you could imagine having your first time with. 

Working himself down to the end of your bed, Jake’s face hovers over your underwear, his eyes searching yours. You nod, reaching down to help him remove them, Jake flinging them behind his head in a dramatic fashion, making you laugh once again.

Until he’s lining up kisses down the inside of your thigh, stopping when he’s just that close to your core. And then he looks up once again. You can hardly see any green in his eyes, just a thin strip on the edge of being overtaken by black.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

What do you do but stutter an embarrassing reply of, “If you want to.” 

Jake wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to. You knew that. He even chuckles at your answer teasingly.

“You’re going to have to keep these open if I do,” he says, tapping the back of your thigh. “I’m not going to nearly perish a second time, though what a hell of a way to go.” 

You huff in amusement, tinting your head back against your pillow only to drop your chin to your chest, looking at him between your legs.

“Just be gentle with me, Jake. I’m not…” 

Experienced is the word you leave out, but you know Jake understands you. He always seemed to when it comes to you.

He places both of your legs on his shoulders before reaching up to thread his fingers through yours at your side. He barely has time to punch out the words, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” before his nose is parting your folds and he’s swiping his tongue up and down your cunt repeatedly. 

You pull against his hold on your hands at the feeling, wailing and then biting your lip to quiet yourself, muffling your sounds.

Jake lets go of one of your hands to thumb your bottom lip, removing it from your teeth. He lifts his head and says in one breath, “Sadie’s not here, Liz. Let me hear you moan for me.”

And then he’s sucking on your clit, and you can’t hold it in any longer. The noise you let out is practically a scream, and the vibrations from Jake’s moan against your cunt push you that much further. Cause the fact he mentioned her name while headfirst deep between your legs is filthy. 

And the sounds that follow, echoing around your bedroom, are raunchy.  The night Jake kissed you in your hallway, your worries about Sadie hearing both of you come to mind. Because thank God she wasn’t here, or else she’d think Jake was murdering you.

You’d have to work on being quiet if you ever wanted to do this again with Jake once she came back home. 

You felt hot with your shirt racked up around the top of your breasts, gripping the hem to rip it over your head, your back leaping off the bed as far as it could go. Jake glances up, still working his mouth against your cunt to watch, the only remaining piece on your body is his tags.

You buck into his mouth, having no control over your body as he just sucks and sucks and sucks, your grip on his hand getting tighter and tighter, and you’re gripping your comforter to the point your hand throbs from the force. Cause everything burns and feels so good and yet so bad, and you cry to whatever part of you decided you needed to wait to experience this.

But in the back of your head, you know nobody could make you feel the way Jake was making you feel now.

Something snaps, hard, your muscles pulling tant and the cry blaring out into the ceiling of your bedroom is anything but salacious.  And Jake's voice is muffled when he works you through it, chanting, “Good girl, that’s my good girl,” over and over as you chant your hips to chase the feeling.

You are a shaking mess when Jake finally lets go, and slides back up your body, letting his weight settle against your chest, arms threading themselves under your shoulders.

"Was that okay?" 

You don't even have the words to describe how you are feeling. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, wondering why the hell he'd be asking such a question when he caused you to be in such a state. 

Instead, you lurch up and kiss him hard, your hands gripping the middle of his back, sliding down to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Jake jolts when he feels your hands cupping his ass. 

"Are you sure, darlin'?" he pants, pulling away from you. "Are you sure you want this? With me?"

This was Jake. He wouldn't have you without your consent.

"I only want you."

It's slightly cheesy. But there was no other way you could put it. You couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. But he challenges you again, asking, "Are you sure you want it to be me?" 

You wanted to smack him for his sheer idiocy right now, bringing up his shitty perception of his self-worth. But you don't want to ruin the mood, and you know where it's coming from deep down. It has nothing to do with you. 

"I do," you say instead, rubbing your nose against his. "I just don't know how to make you feel good, though."

"It's not about me right now."

Except it was. It was about both of you.

"Get on top of me."

The both of you rolled, Jake grabbing your hips as you landed on top of him. You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. The action had you rocking yourself back onto his clothed cock, and Jake let out a moan, hands tightening on your waist to push and pull with your movements.

Leaning down to kiss him once, you followed his jawline, reaching his ear. "You want to know something?" you asked, suddenly emboldened.

"What?" he gasped, nails biting into your skin.

"I've been dying to do this since the first time I saw you on the beach."

You felt the pinch of his nails as you kissed down his neck, making sure to catch a patch of skin between your teeth softly. You continued down his chest until you finally got to your desired place.

The divet.

The perfectly sculpted yet slightly crooked valley that split the entire length of his chest in half. You had a brief moment of panic, a stutter in your heartbeat, when you realized just how forward you, the freaking virgin, were being. Hell, you didn't even know if you were doing any of this right.

All you knew, you had waited long enough.

Spread out beneath you, Jake's body is spread out for you like a personalized meal. You pressed a kiss into his skin first before letting your tongue press deep into that valley and swirl all sorts of patterns across his skin. His eyes nearly bugled out of his head before Jake groaned, chest puffing out and hand fisting into your hair. 

You work your way up, getting ready to take one of his nipples into your mouth, when Jake suddenly shouts and lets out a fevered, "Stop." 

You reel back in shock, scared you overstepped. But Jake only tugged you up by your hips, using you as a counterweight to pull himself to sit against your headboard with a painful groan. He settled you directly against his pelvis, where you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers.

He grips the back of your neck hard and slams his lips into yours. You whimper into the kiss, worried he's using it as a tactic to let you down gently. When he finally releases your lips, you burst out, "I'm sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn't have.." 

Jake grips your throat, thumb resting just barely on your Adam's apple, enough to know it's there. You can feel it with each hard sallow you take, his hand big enough to encompass the entire length and width of your neck. 

"Don't ever apologize for that," he states firmly. "I'm yours to do with what you will. And trust me when I say there is a lot more you can do to me than just a simple kiss on the chest." 

And there's the blush. 

"I told you I'd corrupt your innocent little soul," he smirks, pulling you to his mouth once again.  

The next few moments are filled with long, passionate kisses and heavy touches until Jake is reaching for the hem of his boxers, and you find yourself helping him pull them down, him kicking them off in some unknown direction. 

Unlike this morning, there's no hesitation when you take him in, his cock hard and standing to attention. You regret your reaction to the comment you made about his helmet last year. Cause there was truth behind that one missing letter. 

Jake reaches for you, helping to position you over him before he suddenly freezes.  "Shit," he gasped, pushing you to sit on his thighs. "We don't have anything."

You ducked your head shyly. "We don't need one if you're okay without one. I... I'm on the pill."

"You're on the pill?"

You know what he means behind the question instantly.

"Two months before Penny asked me back. Other reasons, though. Not that I was expecting to get laid at any point in time," you answer him quietly, lifting your head. "You know me, Jake. I don't do one-night stands. I never have."

Jake relaxed under your hold, a small part of him sighing in relief.

"Worried I moved on?" you ask him softly, stroking your finger across his brow.

"You had every right to," he's almost ashamed to admit. You shook your head. "When are you going to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are worth it, Jake? I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Jake sighed again, dropping his forehead to your collarbone.

"Besides, you painted a pretty picture in the flatbed of your truck," you tease, quickly reciting the words he had rasped into your ear when his fingers were almost knuckle deep in your cunt. You drop your head forward and whisper into his ear, "The day I can have you gripping my cock?"

Jake growled at your words, reaching for your thigh to properly position you over him. Straddling his waist, you rest on your knees. Jake grabbed his cock, angling it just so as to rub the tip against your cunt slowly. You weren't sure whether he was teasing you or getting you used to a feeling.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Then his tip caught at your entrance, and you let out a whimper. 

He stops, not doing anything else except letting go of himself to latch onto your other hip. Tilting his head, he places a kiss on the underside of your jaw, breathing in deep.

You understand why Jake had you move on top of him for this. He was letting you control the pace and do what only felt comfortable to you. It warms your heart, even if it is on the verge of jumping out of your chest.

"Take your time, darlin," he encouraged you softly, mouthing at the skin under your collarbone. "I'm here whenever you are ready. And we can stop at any point."

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to press yourself down onto him.

Something between a whine and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of his cock enter you. You had no previous experience to compare this to, but you were sure you weren't supposed to feel this stretched out. Or this full. 

You got about halfway down before you cried out, sightly in pain. Jake's grip tightened on your leg and hip, muscles flexing as he halted you. You're slick, but it's a tight fit. And his breath was just as ragged as yours.

 Sliding the hand that was griping your hip up your back, Jake encompasses the nape of your neck in his hand, tiling your head down so he could take your mouth into an open kiss.

"Jake," you whimpered into his mouth, your nails digging hard into his shoulder. Jake kept a tight rein on his control, but it was a battle he was struggling with. You just felt too good around him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed. "Taking my cock." 

"I don't know if I can go any further," you whimper. But Jake is quick to reply, "We don't have to, not if you don't want to. But you're almost there, just a little bit more." 

"Fuck," you whined, tearing yourself away from his mouth to bury your face into his shoulder.  His hand tightened against the nape of your neck, fingers tangling themselves into the roots of your hair. The grip is reassuring and grounding, and you take several deep breaths before you press down once again.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he bottoms out, his hips pressed tightly into yours. 

That's it. You were a virgin no longer. 

And suddenly, with that thought, you felt nervous. Because, of all things, that damn fucking sign in the girl's bathroom of the Hard Deck flashes in your mind.

Jake is experienced. You're not. It was one thing for him to say he didn't mind you were a virgin, but it was something else for him to be the one to change that status. Because every story you've ever read about how men would compare their previous partners to their current one eats away at you.

There was no way you would stack up to the long list of women Jake had bedded, for lack of a better word. But Jake only nuzzled the valley between your breasts, tongue delicately tracing the underside of one while rubbing soothingly down the curve of your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured softly. You can't help yourself when your next words come out more anxiously than teasingly. "Live up to your imagination?"

If Jake caught on, he didn't let you know.

"Better," he groaned. "I don't care if we do anything else. I'm perfectly content to be like this the rest of the day."

He twitches inside you, and you gasp, dropping your mouth to rest against the top of his head. You know what he is doing. He's letting you adjust, letting the pain subside, assuring your anxious thoughts.

"Like this? Me, wrapped around your cock, barely moving," You manage to pant, and he hums against your chest. "What if we have company? Rooster tends to show up unannounced."

"He better not," his growl vibrates off your skin, hand flexing on your thigh in an effort not to thrust. "He should know better than to show up at your door when he knows damn well what we're getting up to."

Jake titles his head to set his teeth into your collarbone in a warning, making you clench involuntarily and whimper. He snarls into your neck, "Don't mention him when I'm inside you. This is not going to end badly, not for your first time."

The heat laced in his voice did nothing to stop the small chuckle that racked your chest. Your muscles pull tight across your stomach, and you choke, "Are you trying to make me combust?"

"Is it working?" 

Jake doesn't move. Not at first. Not until you decide to test the waters and flex your hips once, rocking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. 

Your mouth is resting open against his forehead, and your nails are biting into his shoulders as you moan, letting the first thumps of pain, turn into pleasure. He's tense under you, Jake, using every ounce of willpower not to thrust himself hard up into you to match your rocks. He wants to take this slow. He wants you to enjoy this, no matter how badly he wants to feel you clench around him.

Instead, he rasps into your breast, “Feel good?” 

Why is he so obsessed with asking you questions?

You’re unsure if your noise is intelligible, but you try to force out an affirmative hum. Then he hits the back of your cervix, making you howl and curl into him.  

It must have been the sound you let out because Jake growls. Gripping the flesh of your butt tightly, he flipped the both of you. You weren't expecting him to, not with how beaten up he was. The movement of your back hitting the bed caused him to hit something deep inside you, causing you to cry out and grip the planes of his shoulders, nails biting hard and uncaring if you happened to touch his bruise.

The slow movement of you rocking on him was nothing compared to the way he started to thrust in earnest. 

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you," he panted, increasing his pace. "The day I saw you at the Hard Deck when you were dancing in your kitchen. The clean fucking slate."

You whimper at the growl he spun on the word fucking, adding to the heat already spreading across your body. Even with the pleasure he’s bestowing across your body, you know this must be somewhat painful for him.

"Jake.." you gasped. "Your back."

"Fuck my back," he grunted, angling his hips in an urgent thrust. It made you tilt your head back into your pillow, your head almost hitting your headboard, your nails biting into his back, letting out a heated cry. Jake went for your neck, teeth, and lips, pressing hard to your pulse point.

"I don't care if I fucking break it," he growled out. "I'm not stopping until you cum for me." 

A particular thrust caused you to turn your head, and Jake sunk his teeth into your neck. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around Jake's waist. The angle of this next thrust changed, and you whimpered loudly, tears leaking down the sides of your face as Jake lurched over you with a desperate groan.

It has you wrapping your other leg around his waist, your hips slanted downwards, his cock pounding you at a new angle.

His hand, supporting himself on the bed next to you, shot out to grip your bedframe. Alternating between deep thrusts and shallow teases, Jake watched you underneath him. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open, and dog tags - his dog tags - jangling against your stomach.

 He almost didn’t have this, the stark realization haunting him. He had literally been a breath away from never seeing you again, never feeling your warmth or hearing your cries of pleasure or even your laughter. He would take any chance, any glance, anything to assure him you were real. And that you were his.

His back spasmed, and he fell on top of you, saving himself from crushing you at the last second. But it doesn’t deter him. No, Jake still flexed his hips, more than determined to get you over that edge, to have you cum. Even if he didn’t, he wanted you to experience at least that. 

But those dog tags cause a possessive feeling to rise in his chest - because the only word going through his head right now is mine. 

"You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he grunted. "Say it. Please say it.”

There's the possessive kink you know and love. 

“I’m yours,” you cry out, consumed by the feeling of him driving his cock into you. “Yours Jake, just please…”

It is then a mantra of "pleases" and "I needs" fall from your lips, of which you aren't sure what for. All you knew was that Jake was working you higher and higher off that edge, fully determined to see you tumble over it.

“Cum for me Liz,” he whines.  “Cum for me, just for me. Please my darlin’ girl.”

He drops his hand between the two of you, seeking out your clit and rubbing hard, tight circles that have you screaming. Your soaring, going over that somewhat unfamiliar edge he’s brought you over only twice before.

You swear you black out, just for a few moments, until Jake is at your ear, whispering praise after praise about how good it finally felt to have you cum around him. How only he would ever be the one to experience this, how proud of you he is.

Then he thrusts, once, twice, before your hips jolt up, and he's pressing himself deep, flooding your core. You sob, burying your face into his neck and tightening your legs around him. Because amongst the overstimulation, you can feel another one creeping up from out of nowhere. Pure white heat shoots up to your chest as Jake's haunting moan vibrates your entire being.

Then it's quiet, and you want to bury yourself in this moment. 

You don't even care that you're crying. Because, with all the thoughts and feelings flying back and forth through your mind, there's one that stands out the most. 

Your so fucking glad you waited.

"Are you alright?"

When you don't say anything, too blissed out to form words, Jake pants out your name against your neck; his voice laced with urgency.

"I need... I need a moment. Just a moment," you manage to pant, forcing breath into your lungs. Jake moves, trying to bring himself onto his elbows as his back screams in protest.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, stroking your cheek. You manage a small shake of your head, the sides of your mouth turning upwards. "No," you reply softly.

You finally open your eyes to see Jake staring down at you. His brow pulled together in concern. And, of course, you, being you, had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"I guess you did give me a good time after all."

Jake tilts his head for a second before his memory catches up with him, and he shakes his head, though you can see the puff he takes out of pride. 

"What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth Beck?"

You grin up at him. "Hopefully, a repeat of that sometime in the near future?"

Jake rolled onto his side with a groan, pulling you with him to lie half on his chest. The action caused him to slip out from you, which you were grateful for. The quick movement only caused a brief amount of pain, and you were sure if he drew it out, it would have been worse. 

Jake was pressing kisses to your forehead as the aftershocks finally made them known. You trembled against him, hands trying to find purchase along his chest, and Jake didn't stop until he was sure you were okay.

But, in the blissful silence, once you calmed down, Jake playing with your hair against your back, did he finally ask the question you knew was coming since he walked through your front door.

"Does she hate me?"

You weakly lifted your head from his shoulder, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face.

"The day at the beach. She was devastated..." Jake trailed off, absentmindedly staring at your bedroom wall. You pressed a kiss to his chest. "We've both had a lot of people in our lives that have hurt us."

"I'm used to disappointing people, but her? She has every right."

You frowned. "She missed you so much, Jake."

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. You lifted your hand off his chest to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone under the newly darkened skin. "She could never hate you. She asked me every day when you'd be coming home."

Jake didn't open his eyes, but he did lean into your touch, his shame and guilt still evident.

You wanted to tell him about the most recent thunderstorm, Sadie waking up and crying out for the both of you in the middle of the night. You had done your best to soothe her, but deep down, you knew she wanted Jake. Nothing could compare to his words of reassurance or the way she felt when he hugged her that night.

In the end, lifting his dog tags off your neck and placing them around hers was the only thing that worked. Huddled in her bed with your arms around her, she fell asleep with them gripped tightly in her hand.

Something told you even if you did tell him, it would only make him more upset.

You stroked your fingers over his forehead, asking him softly, "Come with me when I pick her up from camp next week? I promise she will prove you wrong."

There was a silent pause, and then he opened his eyes. He searched you for any hint of deception, not that he would find any. Sadie was just as important to him as you were. In the end, he nodded once with a sigh.

It was a few more minutes before he carefully untangled himself from your hold. He swung his legs over to the side of your bed with a groan, his muscles spasming as he sat up. Even in your blissed-out state, you reached out and placed a hand on his upper back, where his bruise was the least dark, hoping to soothe some of his pain.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something to clean you up."

"You don't have to, Jake. I can take care of it."

"It's my job," he countered, turning his head to look at you with a cheeky grin. "Let me do this for you."

He stood, lumping slightly to your bathroom to grab something to clean you up. You watched him go, taking him in in all his naked glory, biting your bottom lip hard.

You still couldn't believe he was yours.

You weren't expecting this: the gentleness as he took the rag between your legs when he returned, the kiss he placed on your thigh when you whimpered from the sensitivity.

After tossing the rag into your laundry hamper to be dealt with later, he maneuvered himself back into the position he assumed last night when you fell asleep, head buried in your neck, arms wrapped under your shoulders.

It was soothing, his weight on your chest almost counteracting the dull throbbing in your core.

"How long do I have you for?" you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

"I have nowhere to be for the next two weeks," he mumbled into your chest.

"Stay with me?"

"As if I'd leave you now."

😏😘 You hate me now?

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Part 22 - Jump in progress

Wickett ;)

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