Attention Everyone

Continuing on with the remaining 6 cats I have subjected to my Top Gun brain rot

Starting off with Bob, I named this one Bob because he's a Persian cat and his little face just reminds me of Bob's face, but in a good way. He's very sweet and deserves the world.

Hondo is next because I have a massive soft spot for Hondo and his friendship with Mav.

Wolfman was named wolfman because of his coat colour, it reminds me very much of wolves and I was also thinking about Remus Lupin at the time of naming him, a very odd connection but it makes sense in my broken brain. Hollywood was named that because I was running out of cat breeds and couldn't leave wolfman without Hollywood.

Finally we have Cougar and Sundown. Sundown was named because his coat colour is very bright and reminded me of sunsets. Cougar was the last one I named because I was desperately racking my brain for another name and I remembered his first.

That concludes this shitpost about my Minecraft top gun cats, I built a massive mansion just so I could house them all adequately.

EDIT: I have 1 more man to include. The water tribe dilf himself

Hakoda

I will always simp for this man

But if these men came up to me. I would simp for them as well

Cause damn. Why can’t they be in real life?

And I just realized something. They are all firebenders. They got the good genes.

@mo-mode you. 👏 are. 👏 a. 👏 GENIUS. 👏 NO WONDER WE WERE ALL GETTING THOSE OG WATTPAD/TUMBLR VIBES UGH I LOVE IT~

Asking Robby to walk you down the aisle after u said yes to Jack hOLD MY HAND SYDDDD 😭😭😭😭

The Handoff 𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚

a/n : I fear I took your idea and turned it into a 4k word emotional spiral. I genuinely couldn’t help myself. like… Jack crying in uniform??? Robby soft-dad-coded and holding it together until he can’t??? the handoff?? the dress reveal??

summary : Jack proposes in the trauma bay. You say yes. Before the wedding, you ask Robby to walk you down the aisle.

content/warnings: emotional wedding fluff, quiet proposal energy, found family themes, Jack crying in uniform, Robby in full dad-mode, reader with no biological family, soft military references, subtle grief, emotional intimacy, and everyone in the ER being completely unprepared for Jack Abbot to have visible feelings.

word count : 4,149 (... hear me out)

You hadn’t expected Jack to propose.

Not because you didn’t think he wanted to. But because Jack Abbot didn’t really ask for things. He was a man of action. Not words. Never had been.

But with you? He always showed it.

Like brushing your shoulder on the way to a trauma room—not for luck, not for show, just to say I’m here.

It was how he peeled oranges for you. Always handed to you in a napkin, wedges split and cleaned of the white stringy parts—because you once mentioned you hated them. And he remembered.

It was how he left the porch light on when you got held over.

How he’d warm your side of the bed with a heating pad when your back ached.

He’d hook his pinky with yours in the hallway. Leave your favorite hoodie—his—folded on your pillow when he knew he’d miss you by a few hours.

Jack didn’t say “I love you” like other people. He said it like this. In gestures. In patterns. In choosing you, over and over, without fanfare.

No big speeches. No dramatic declarations.

Just peeled oranges. Warm beds. Soft touches.

So when it finally happened—a proposal, of all things—it caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t think he meant it. But because you’d never pictured it. Not from him. Not like this.

The trauma bay was quiet now. The kind of quiet that only happens after a win—after the adrenaline fades, the stats even out and the patient lives. You’d both been working the case for nearly forty minutes, side by side, barked orders and that intense, seamless rhythm you’d only ever found with him.

You saved a life tonight. Together.

And now the world outside the curtain was humming soft and far away.

You stood by the sink, scrubbing off the last of the blood—good blood, this time. He was leaning against the supply cabinet, gloves off. Something in his shoulders had dropped. His body loose in that way it never really was unless you were alone.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched you in that quiet way he always did when his guard was down—like he was trying to memorize you, just in case you weren’t there to catch him tomorrow.

You flicked water from your hands. “What?”

“Nothing.”

You gave him a look.

He hesitated.

Then, casually—as casually as only Jack could manage while asking you something that was about to gut you—

“I’d marry you.”

You froze. Not dramatically. Not visibly. Just enough that he caught the subtle change in your face, the way your mouth parted like you needed more air all of a sudden.

His eyes didn’t move. He didn’t smile. Didn’t joke.

“If you wanted,” he added after a beat, voice a little lower now. A little rougher. “I would.”

It didn’t sound like a performance. It sounded like a truth he’d been sitting on for months. One he only knew how to say in places like this—where the lighting was too bright and your hearts were still racing and nothing else existed but you two still breathing.

Your chest ached.

“Yeah,” you said. It came out quieter than you meant to. “I’d marry you too.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

And then he stepped toward you—not fast, not dramatic, just steady. Like he’d already decided that he was yours. Like this wasn’t new, just something the two of you had known without ever having to say it.

No ring. No big speech. No audience.

Just you. Him. The place where it all made sense.

“You’re it for me,” he murmured.

And you smiled too, because yeah—he didn’t say things often. But when he did?

They wrecked you.

Because he meant them. And he meant this.

You. Forever.

You didn’t tell anyone, not right away.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you didn’t have anyone to tell. Not in the way other people did.

There were no group texts. No parents to call. No siblings waiting on the other end of the line, ready to scream and cry and make it real. You’d built your life from the ground up—and for a long time, that had felt like enough. You’d learned how to move through the world quietly. Efficiently. Without needing to belong to anyone. Without needing to be someone’s daughter.

But then came residency.

And Robby.

He hadn’t swooped in. Hadn’t made it obvious. That wasn’t his style. But the first week of your intern year, when you’d gotten chewed out by a trauma surgeon in the middle of the ER, it was Robby who handed you a water, sat next to you in the stairwell, and said, “He’s an asshole. Don’t let it stick.”

After that, it just… happened. Slowly.

He checked your notes when you looked too tired to think. He drove you home once in a snowstorm and started keeping granola bars in his glovebox—just in case.

He noticed you never talked about home. Never mentioned your parents. Never took time off for holidays.

He never asked. But he was always there.

When you matched into the program full-time, he texted, Knew it.

When you pulled your first solo central line, he left a sticky note on your locker: Took you long enough, show-off.

When a shift gutted you so bad you couldn’t breathe, he sat beside you on the floor of the supply room and didn’t say a word.

You never called him a father figure. You didn’t need to.

He just was.

So when the proposal finally felt real—settled, certain—you knew who you had to tell first.

You found him three days later, camped at his usual spot at the nurse’s station—reading glasses sliding down his nose, his ridiculous “#1 Interrogator” mug tucked in one hand. He didn’t notice you at first. You just stood there, stomach buzzing, watching the way he tapped his pen against the margin like he was trying not to throw the whole file out a window.

“Hey,” you said, trying not to fidget.

He looked up. “You look like you’re about to tell me someone died.”

“No one died.”

He leaned back in the chair, eyebrows raised. “Alright. Hit me.”

You opened your mouth—then paused. Your heart was thudding like you’d just sprinted up from sub-level trauma.

Then, quiet: “Jack proposed.”

A beat.

Another.

Robby blinked. “Wait—what?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Three days ago.”

His mouth opened. Then shut again. Then opened.

“In the middle of a shift?” he asked finally, like he couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or impressed.

You smiled. “End of a code. We’d just saved a guy. He said, ‘I’d marry you. If you wanted.’”

Robby looked down, then laughed quietly. “Of course he did. That’s so him.”

“I said yes.”

“Obviously you did.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly unsure.

“I didn’t know who to tell. But… I wanted you to know first.”

That landed.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, his face soft in that way he rarely let it be. Like something behind his ribs had cracked open a little.

Then he let out a breath. Slow. Rough at the edges.

“He told me, you know,” he said. “A few weeks ago. That he was thinking about it.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Well—‘told me’ is generous,” he muttered. “He cornered me outside the supply closet and said something like, ‘I don’t know if she’d say yes, but I think I need to ask.’ Then grunted and walked away.”

You laughed, head tilting. “That sounds about right.”

“I figured it would happen eventually,” Robby said. “I just didn’t know it already had. This is the first I’m hearing that he actually went through with it.”

He looked down at his coffee, thumb brushing the rim. Then back up at you with something warm in his expression that made your throat go tight.

“I’m proud of you, kid. Really.”

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t really have… anyone,” you said. “Not like that. But you’ve always been—”

He waved a hand, cutting you off before you could get too sentimental. His voice was quiet when he said, “I know.”

You nodded. Tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“You crying on me?” he teased gently.

“No,” you lied.

“Liar.”

He reached up and gave your arm a firm pat—one of those dad-move, no-nonsense gestures—but he kept his hand there for a second, steady and warm.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said. “The two of you. That’s gonna be something good.”

You smiled at the floor. Then at him.

“Hey, Robby?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth—hesitated. The words were there. Right there on your tongue. But they felt too big, too final for a hallway and a half-empty cup of coffee.

You shook your head, smiling just a little. “Actually… never mind.”

His eyes softened instantly. No push. No questions.

Just, “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

And somehow, you knew—he already knew what you were going to ask. And when the time came, he’d say yes without hesitation.

It happened on a Wednesday. Late enough in the evening that most of the ER had emptied out, early enough that the halls still echoed with footsteps and intercom beeps and nurses joking in breakrooms. You’d just finished a back-to-back shift—one of those long, hazy doubles where time folds in on itself. Your ID badge was flipped around on its lanyard. You smelled like sweat, sanitizer, and twelve hours of recycled air.

You found Robby in the stairwell.

Not for any sentimental reason—that’s just where he always went to decompress. A quiet landing. One of the overhead lights had a faint flicker, and he was sitting on the fourth step, half reading something, half just existing. His hoodie sleeves were shoved up to his elbows.

He looked tired in that familiar, permanent way. But settled. Like someone who wasn’t trying to be anywhere else.

“Hey,” you said, voice low.

He looked up instantly. “You good?”

You nodded. Walked down a few steps until you were standing just above him.

“I need to ask you something.”

He squinted. “You pregnant?”

You snorted. “No.”

“Did Jack do something stupid?”

“Also no.”

He closed the folder in his lap and gave you his full attention.

You hesitated. A long beat. “Okay, so—when I was younger, I used to lie.”

Robby blinked. “That’s where this is going?”

You ignored him.

“I’d make up stories about my family. At school. Whenever there was some essay or form or ‘bring your parents to career day’ crap—I’d just invent someone. A dad who was a firefighter. A mom who was a nurse. A grandma who sent birthday cards.”

Robby didn’t move. Just listened.

“And I got good at it. Lying. Not because I wanted to, but because it was easier than explaining why I didn’t have anybody. Why there was no one to call if something happened. Why I always stayed late. Why I never talked about holidays.”

You looked down at him now. Really looked at him.

“I didn’t make anything up this time.”

His brow furrowed, just slightly.

“Because I have someone now,” you said. “I do.”

He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

You took a breath that shook a little in your chest.

“And I’m getting married in a few months, and there’s this part I keep thinking about. The aisle. Walking down it. That moment.”

You cleared your throat.

“I don’t want it to be random. Or symbolic. Or just… for show.”

Another breath.

“I want it to be you.”

Robby blinked once.

Then again.

His mouth opened like he was about to say something. Closed. Then opened again.

“You want me to walk you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

He exhaled hard. Looked away for a second like he needed the extra space to catch up to his own heart.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re really trying to kill me.”

You smiled. “You can say no.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” He looked up at you, and his voice cracked just slightly. “Of course I’ll do it.”

You hadn’t expected to get emotional. Not really. But hearing it out loud—that he’d do it, that he meant it—it undid something small and knotted in your chest.

“You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me, you know that?” he said.

“I didn’t have a plan when you showed up that first year. Just thought, ‘this kid needs a break,’ and next thing I knew you were stealing my chair and bitching about suture kits like we’d been doing this for a decade.”

You laughed, throat thick. “That sounds about right.”

“I’m gonna need a suit now, huh?”

“You don’t have to wear a suit.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m going full emotional support tuxedo. I’m showing up with cufflinks. Maybe a cane.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stood then—slower than he used to, one hand on the railing—and looked at you with that same warmth he always tried to hide under sarcasm and caffeine.

“You did good, kid.”

You gave a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

The music started before you were ready.

It was quiet at first. Just the soft swell of strings rising behind the door. But your hands were shaking, your throat was tight, and everything felt too big all of a sudden.

Robby looked over, standing next to you in the little alcove just off the chapel doors, tie only mostly straight, boutonniere slightly crooked like he’d pinned it on in the car.

“You’re breathing like you’re about to code out,” he said gently.

You gave him a half-laugh, half-gasp. “I think I might.”

He tilted his head. “You okay?”

“No,” you whispered, eyes already burning. “I don’t know—maybe. Yes. I just—Jack’s out there. And everyone’s watching. What if I trip? Or ugly cry? Or completely blank and forget how to walk?”

Robby didn’t flinch. He just reached out and took your hand—steady and instinctive—his thumb brushing over your knuckles the way he had that night during your intern year, when you’d locked yourself in the on-call room and couldn’t stop shaking after your first failed intubation. He didn’t say anything then either. Just sat beside you on the floor and held your hand like this—anchoring, patient, there.

“Hey,” Robby said—steady, but quieter now. “You’re walking toward the only guy I’ve ever seen drop everything—without thinking—just because you looked a little off walking out of a shift.”

You blinked, chest already starting to tighten.

“I’ve watched him learn you,” Robby continued. “Slow. Quiet. Like he was memorizing every version of you without making it a thing. The tired version. The pissed-off version. The one who forgets to eat and pretends she’s fine.”

He let out a quiet laugh, still looking right at you.

“I’ve seen Jack do a thoracotomy with one hand and hold pressure with the other. I’ve seen him walk into scenes nobody else wanted, shirt soaked, pulse steady, like he already knew how it would end. He doesn’t rattle. Hell, I watched him take a punch from a drunk in triage and not even blink.”

His hand tightened around yours—just slightly.

“That’s how I know,” he said. “That this is it. Because Jack—the guy who’s walked into burning scenes with blood on his boots and didn’t even flinch—looked scared shitless the second he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you. Not because he didn’t think you’d say yes. But because he knew it meant something. That this wasn’t something he could compartmentalize or walk away from if it got hard. Loving you? That’s the one thing he can't afford to lose.”

Your eyes burned instantly. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Good. Less pressure on me to be the first one.”

You gave him a teary smile. “You ready?”

Robby offered his arm. “Kid, I’ve been ready since the day you stopped listing ‘N/A’ under emergency contact.”

The doors creaked open.

You sucked in a breath.

And then—

The music swelled.

Not the dramatic kind—no orchestral swell, no overblown strings. Just the soft, deliberate rise of something warm and low and steady. Something that sounded like home.

The crowd stood. Rows of people from different pieces of your life, blurred behind the blur in your eyes. You couldn’t see any one of them clearly—not Dana, not Langdon, not Whitaker fidgeting with his tie—but you felt them. Their hush. Their stillness.

And at the far end of the aisle stood Jack—dressed in his Army blues.

Not a rented tux. Not a tailored suit.

His uniform.

Pressed. Precise. Quietly immaculate.

It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t for show. It was him.

He hadn’t worn it to make a statement. He wore it because there were people in the pews who knew him from before—before the ER, before Pittsburgh, before you. Men and women who had bled beside him, saved lives beside him, watched him shoulder more than anyone should—and never once seen him like this.

Undone. Open.

There were people in his family who’d worn that uniform long before him. And people he’d served with who taught him what it meant to wear it well. Not for attention. Not for tradition. But because it meant something. A history. A duty. A vow he never stopped honoring—even long after the war ended.

And when you saw him standing there—dress blues crisp under the soft chapel light, shoulders squared, mouth tight, eyes full—you didn’t see someone dressed for a ceremony.

You saw him.

All of him. The past, the present, the parts that had been broken and rebuilt a dozen times over. The weight he’d never put down. The man he’d become when no one else was watching.

Jack didn’t flinch as the doors opened. He didn’t smile, didn’t wipe his eyes. He just stood there—steady, quiet, letting himself feel it.

Letting you see it.

And somehow, that meant more than anything he could’ve said.

The room stayed still, breath held around you.

Until, from somewhere near the front, Javadi’s whisper sliced through the quiet:

“Is he—oh my God, is Abbot crying?”

Mohan choked on a mint. Someone—maybe Santos—audibly gasped.

And halfway down the aisle—when your breath caught and your knees went just a little loose—Robby spoke, voice low and smug, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Well,” Robby muttered, voice low and smug, “remind me to collect $20 from Myrna next shift.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes forward, deadpan. “Nothing. Just—turns out you weren’t the only one betting on whether Jack would cry.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“She said he was carved from Army-grade stone and wouldn’t shed a tear if the hospital burned down with him inside. I disagreed.”

You gawked at him.

“She told me—and I quote—‘If Dr. Y/L/N ever changes her mind, tell her to step aside, because I will climb that man like a jungle gym.’”

You almost tripped. “Robby.”

“She’s got her sights set. Calls him ‘sergeant sweetheart’ when the nurses aren’t looking.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, laughing through the tears already welling. And the altar still felt a mile away.

He finally glanced at you, face softening. “I said she didn’t stand a chance.”

You blinked fast.

“Because from the second he saw you?” Robby added, voice lower now. “That was it. He was done for.”

You had never felt so chosen. So sure. So completely loved by someone who once thought emotions were best left unsaid.

Robby must have felt the shift in your weight, because he pulled you in slightly closer. His hand—broad and warm—curved around your arm like it had a thousand times before. Steady. Grounding. Father-coded to the core.

“You got this,” he murmured. “Look at him.”

You did.

And Jack was still there—still crying. Not bothering to wipe his eyes. Not hiding it. Like he knew nothing else mattered more than this moment. Than you.

When you finally reached the end of the aisle, Jack stepped forward before the officiant could speak. Like instinct.

Robby didn’t move at first.

He just looked at you—long and hard, eyes bright.

Then looked at Jack.

Then back at you.

His hand lingered at the small of your back.

And his voice, when it came, was rougher than usual. “You good?”

You nodded, too full to speak.

He nodded back. “Alright.”

And then—quietly, like it was something he wasn’t ready to do but always meant to—he took your hand, and placed it gently into Jack’s.

Jack didn’t look away from you. His hand curled tight around yours like it was a lifeline.

Robby cleared his throat. Stepped back just a little. And you saw it—the tremble at the corner of his mouth. The way he blinked too many times in a row.

He wasn’t immune to it.

Not this time.

“You take care of her,” he said, voice thick. “You hear me?”

Jack—eyes glassy, jaw tight—just nodded. One firm, reverent nod.

“I do,” he said.

And for once, that wasn’t a promise.

It was a fact.

A vow already lived.

Robby stepped back.

A quiet shift. No words, no fuss. Just one last glance—full of something that lived between pride and grief—and then he stepped aside, slow and careful, like his body knew he had to let go before his heart was ready.

And then it was just you and Jack.

He stepped in just a little closer—like the space between you, however small, had finally become too much. His hand tightened around yours, his breath shallow, like holding it together had taken everything he had.

The moment he saw you—really saw you—something behind his eyes cracked wide open.

He didn’t smile. Not right away.

He didn’t say anything clever. Didn’t reach for you like someone confident or composed.

It was like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life—and still couldn’t believe it was real.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tried to laugh, but it cracked—caught somewhere between joy and everything else swelling behind your ribs.

The dress fit like a memory and a dream at once. Sleek. Understated. A silhouette that didn’t beg for attention, but held it all the same. Clean lines. Long sleeves. A bodice tailored just enough to feel timeless. A low back. No shimmer. No lace. Just quiet, deliberate elegance.

Just you.

Jack took a breath—slow and shaky.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, like he wasn’t entirely sure he was speaking out loud.

You blinked fast, vision swimming.

“You’re not supposed to make me cry before we even say anything,” you managed, voice trembling.

He gave a small, broken laugh. “That makes two of us.”

You could feel the crowd behind you. Every attending. Every nurse. Every person who thought they knew Jack Abbot—stoic in trauma bays, voice sharp, pulse steady no matter what walked through the doors.

And now? They were seeing him like this.

Glass-eyed. Soft-spoken. Undone.

Jack looked at you again. Really looked.

“I knew I was gonna love you,” he said. “But I didn’t know it’d be like this.”

Your breath caught. “Like what?”

He smiled—slow, quiet, reverent.

“Like peace.”

You blinked so fast it almost turned into a sob. “God. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” you whispered, smiling through it.

Behind you, the music began to fade. The officiant cleared his throat.

Jack didn’t move. Didn’t look away. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like it had done a thousand times before—only this time, it meant something.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said softly. “Not in combat. Not in med school. Not even the first time I intubated someone on a moving Humvee.”

You laughed, choked and real. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours,” he corrected. “That’s the important part.”

The officiant spoke then, calling for quiet.

But Jack leaned in one last time, voice so low it barely touched the air.

“Tell me when to breathe,” he said.

You smiled, heart wrecked and steady all at once.

“I’ve got you.”

And Jack Abbot—combat medic, ER attending, man who spent a lifetime holding everything together—closed his eyes and let himself believe you.

Because for once in his life, he didn’t have to be ready for the worst.

He just had to stand beside the best thing that ever happened to him.

And say yes.

Damn he or she better.

THIS JUST IN: Newton Artemis Fido Scamander has permanently raised my standards. If you won’t lick the dirty ground in a foreign country in order to find me, you ain’t it, chief.

man, teenaged girls aren’t allowed to have a genuine interest in anything without being ridiculed for it. if a girl likes ugg boots and starbucks she’s stupid and stereotypical, but if she likes combat boots and obscure coffee houses she’s a hipster wannabe and is trying too hard. if a girl listens to boy bands and other popular artists she’s a dumb follower, if she reads comics or plays video games she’s a poser/fake geek girl, if she likes sex she’s a slut but if she doesn’t like sex she’s a prude, if she wears makeup she’s fake but if she doesn’t wear makeup she’s a slob, if she has low self-esteem she needs to learn to love herself but if she has high self-esteem she’s overconfident and vain, if she’s interested in politics she’s a crazy social justice warrior but if she prefers to stay out of social matters she’s a dumb airhead. girls are literally mocked for every single thing they like or do, no matter what those things are, and i’m really really sick of it.

😭😭😭

My favorite tv show Supernatural is ending after the 15th season. I’m so sad

Head in the clouds

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Reader

Multi chapter story coming soon

♡♡♡

Reader has known Goose and Maverick for years. Along with Carole, they’ve all been such a close knit group, and Maverick’s family. When family get to go to fly over and see their loved ones in Top Gun, reader attends with Carole and Bradley. What was suppose to be a nice time together ends up bringing up the past. A certain someone reader hasn’t seen in years enters their life again. Turns out, letting go isn’t that easy. He hasn’t forgotten either.

Reader has to make their own choices. It was too much before, and maybe it still is. It’s hard to tell when the heart is aching for him.

♡♡♡

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in this story when the time comes.

MITCHELL | Jake Seresin

Masterlist

Intro prologue chapter two

Chapter one; Our eyes meet

Maverick sat down on the barstool with his daughter following him, Her following him around brought him back to the old times when she didn't want to be separated from him when she was a little girl.

"How was the mach nine?" She asked as they enters the Hard Deck.

"Oh I blow it." He said beaming.

"Im sorry what?" Y/n ask him not believing her ears, questioning herself did she get it right. He nods with his eyes on his phone talking to Iceman.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." A voice said. The Mitchell's lift their head to see Penny Benjamin.

"Pete." Penny said with a smile.

"Penny?" Maverick says leaning in to the bar, not believing his eyes. He went ballistic with Penny Benjamin when he was younger. After her mother passed away he starts to learn to move on, he met Penny again got into trouble got deployed somewhere else by the Admiral.

"Heya Pen."

"What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing." Y/n watch the adults interact with a glint of curiosity, they were being suspicious. Like they are still attracted to each other. The two practically stared into each other's souls.

"Please for the sake of my sanity stop eye fucking each other." Her words made them broke their stare, a innocent smile forming to her face. "Penny, can I have a Soda?"

Penny nods then asked what's her dad doing here, he starts to tell her how this is his last post. Penny did not believe him.

"Come on Pete, you've been saying that as long as I known you. You said that after you take me to a joy ride in a F-18 and the next thing I know you're off to Bosnia. Then Iraq, both times. You've got yourself in trouble and Iceman makes a call." Penny said giving Maverick a beer and her Soda. "And you're back into the air."

"Penny..." Maverick starts.

"Too late." Penny interrupt, "You're about to ask me what time I get off."

Maverick shakes his head with a smile, "Don't give me that look" she said making Y/n snorts, she's aware that her dad's smile is cocky and pretty sure he doesn't have any look other than that.

"I'm not giving you any look, I swear."

"You know how it always ends for us," Penny eyed him.

Y/n eyes watched him leans to the counter with a smile, "You look good." He said to Penny, Penny takes a step back and rings the bell causing people to cheer at the sound.

"Much appreciated pal." A Navy said patting her dad's shoulder.

"What am I missing here?" Maverick asked Penny and Y/n.

Penny step aside to reveal the plate behind her, guess he didn't see it because he was too busy lost in Penny's eyes. 'Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cell phone on my bar you buy a round.' Maverick turned to face his daughter, "You knew about this?"

"The plate is right infront of you, you would have known it if you weren't too focused on Penny."

He rolled his eyes, he looks around there was a lot of people "For everyone?"

"I'm afraid rules are rules, sir." Y/n said in a military tone.

"You're lucky it's early." Penny continues.

Y/n takes her glass into her hand with her eyes scanning the room, her eyes meet another pair of eyes.

Jake Seresin suddenly feels the room turned quiet when his eyes laid on the h/c. As if everything in this room faded away, everything felt so slow. Y/n send him a small smile and look away embarrassed that she got caught looking at someone.

He snapped out of it when he saw a familiar face causing him to smirk, "Look what do we have here, Phoenix." He walks closer to Phoenix, "And here I thought we were special, Coyote." He added.

"Fellas this here is bagman." Phoenix introduced to the guys behind her.

"Hangman." He corrected with a forced smile.

"Whatever, you are looking at the naval aviator that have duty to kill."

"Stop." Jake joked.

"Mind you the guy was in museum piece from a Korean war," Phoenix finished.

"Cold War." Coyote said.

"Different war same century." A guy from behind Phoenix stated.

"Who are your friends?" Coyote asked.

"Payback." Reuben Fitch said.

"Fanboy." Mickey Garcia says with a nod.

Phoenix nod her head beside her, "Who's he?" A guy with a glasses patting away the crumbs from his uniform.

"When did you get in?"

"Oh I've been here the whole time." He replied with a sweet smile.

"The man a stealth pilot." Coyote joked.

"Weapons system actually." He answered not getting the joke.

"With no sense of humor." Jake nods. He keeps stealing glanced to the barstool, watching her having a conversation with an older guy beside her. He felt his heart pumped faster when he hears her laugh at the man words beside her.

"You need a drink? I'll get it." Jake push the cue to Phoenix.

Phoenix was little shocked that was new of him. She turn back to the guy asking questions.

"What do they call you?"

"Bob." He answered.

"No, your call sign." Payback asked.

"Uh Bob."

"Bob Floyd? You're my new back seater?" Phoenix asked him, "From lemoore?" She asked.

"Looks like it, yeah." Bob replied.

Fanboy perked up remembering that he was assigned as a back seater to someone who have Ciel as their call sign, "Do any of you know Ciel? I was assigned as their back seater."

Phoenix jaw dropped "Ciel? Lucky you, Ciel's back seater quit being a naval aviator, said he doesn't want his wife to be a widow any time sooner." She quickly looks around for her friend.

Her eyes twinkles when she found Ciel or her civilians name Y/n Mitchell, sitting on the barstool with a older guy that she did not know that happens to her old man. Phoenix was about to call her but shut her mouth when Y/n put her index finger on her lips which Phoenix nods at.

"Penny my dear," He near the barstool making sure to make yet another eye contact with the h/c woman. "All four more on the old timer."

Y/n noticed the guy is slowly approaching her, she look at her glass of Soda pretending to not know he's not going to talk to her.

"I'm Hangman." He reached his hand out to her.

She decided to play the guy's ego, she shook his hand "Well that's unfortunate." Y/n said pretending to not know its a call sign making Maverick smirk at her words.

"No, it's my call sign." He said.

"Call sign? Oh you're a pilot" Y/n send him a awed face, she fake gasp not that he knows. Pretending to not like her dad did not briefed her about pilots introducing themselves with their call sign but for the sake of having fun.

"That's right, a naval aviator." He respond proudly. She cleared her throat, "I'm Y/n Mitchell." She said with a smile.

"Jake seresin." He plastered a smirk on his face making her bashfully look away from his gaze.

"Here you go." Penny interrupt giving the Ken doll look alike his beers.

"It was nice talking to you, Hangman" Y/n flash him a smile.

"Thank you, much appreciated pops" Jake said to nodding to Maverick and send Y/n a flirtatious wink causing her to giggle.

Penny turns to Maverick with a knowing smile.

"Bradshaw! is that you?" Phoenix voice called out.

Y/n turned her head to the entrance, there he is. Almighty Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. Her childhood bestfriend. She looks at her dad with a toothy grin but turned into sad smile when she saw him turn his head avoiding to be seen by his godson, the Mitchell man pulled out the young Bradshaw papers, set Bradley's career back four years.

She chuckled when she saw Phoenix hit him in the gut with the cue. She watched Jake talk with Bradley, to be honest its more like joking around but in a weird way.

Phoenix leans to his shoulder "I heard Ciel's coming in this mission."

"Ciel? Already?" More aviators starts to enter the hard deck with the evening rush, Fanboy was looking at them.

"The hell kind a mission is this?"

"That's not what we're supposed to be asking," Phoenix continued "Everyone here is the best there is, who the hell are they going to teach us?"

"Any of them is Ciel?" Fanboy ask Phoenix.

"Nope," Phoenix dragged the p. "Ciel just finished her last mission, from what I heard she shot down 5 of the enemy fighter jets."

Everyone jaw hanged, 5 of enemy fighter jets? That's higher than Jake "Hangman" Seresin.

Back to the main character, Y/n tapped her father on the shoulder whispering she's going to the restroom. As she walk she felt someone eyes behind her head.

Entering the restroom she turn the water on to wash her hands as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The door swung open and in walk the guy she talked before on the bar.

"This the ladies restroom, the gentleman is across from this one." Y/n told him looking at him from the mirror.

"Oh I'm not looking for the restroom," He said.

Y/n 'oh'ed at his words, She turned around leaning her back at the counter with her arms crossed, "So what did you wanna do, just drop right down on the tile and go for it?" She asked him tapping the ground with her shoe as he approached.

Jake put his hands on the counter pressing them hard, checking if it can hold someone on it, "No, I had the counter in mind." He said looking at her.

Y/n reach her arm for the tissue, "Great, that would be very, very comfortable yeah."

"It could be unless you prefer standing instead." He says with a smirk leaning on his hand on the counter making her shaking her head at him while she wipes her hands.

"Actually, I came in here to save you from making a big mistake with that older guy." Jake said kissing his teeth.

"Really? So I could go on to a bigger one with a young guy like yourself?" She throw the tissue away looking back at Jake whom she think is fun to messed with.

"Maybe?" He tilt his head while he raises his eyebrow.

She pushed herself from the counter "I've gotta be at work very early in the morning." She send him a tight lipped smile. He shrugs with a smug look, he catch her arm.

"Wait," he pulled her hand to his chest, she raise one eyebrow "I have a friend and he's waiting outside. Wanna fool him?" He asked.

"Aw, what's in it for me?" She tilt her head with her chin high.

"You'll have fun with a guy like me," he says shaking her hand.

"Still don't know what's in it for me."

"I'll buy you a drink next time we see each other," He said with a wink.

"What makes you think we'll see each other next time?" She asked.

"Hey you'll never know, you might miss me." He grinned, leaning down to her face and brush some stray hair out of her face.

"Fine," She rolled her eyes.

They both walked out from the restroom, her eyes scanning through the crowd. "So which one is your friend that we're gonna fool?"

"That one, see that guy staring at his beer?" Jake whispers into her ear and pointed at guy.

"He looks like he's staring at his lover." Y/n commented making him grin at her words.

She was about to walk towards the guy but Jake grabbed her wrist, he turns her head towards him.

"Just need to do this," he wipe her lower lip, wiping her lipstick. Her heart feels like it's going to burst. "Now when you walk to him, apply your lipstick again so he'll believe it."

"Wow, You're full of surprises." She said, stepping away and start to walk to Coyote with her lipstick in her hand.

"Your friend was magnificent" she said as she reapplying her lipstick, he looks up from his beer watching her figure walking away. Jake stood beside him with a smug smirk.

"Nah, that can't be."

She take her sit back next to her dad who stares at her with a slight scolding eyes, she raise her hands "What? I didn't do anything, beside it was fun messing with him."

"Let's go, I'll drive you home, where are you staying?" Maverick asked.

"At Penny's. She offered a place for me to stay as soon she knows I'm in town."

Penny walks to the Mitchell with a card in her hand, she slide the card to Maverick "It's been declined." He take out his wallet for the cash.

"That wouldn't cover it." Penny hands him the check, he cannot believe the bill she had gave him.

"I'll come back tomorrow bringing the cash" Maverick responded. Penny walks to the bell holding the rope, "I'm afraid rules are rules Pete." She rings the bell once again, the crowd cheers and start chanting "Hoverboard."

"Really?" Maverick said to Penny. Who smiles innocently at him.

"You've should use my money," She sighed as Jake and two other guy walks behind her dad, Jake winked at Y/n. He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and nods at Coyote before lifting him from the ground.

"It's great to see you Pete!" Penny yelled.

"I'll see you later, Do you want me to cook dinner?" Y/n said gathering her stuff.

"Great, I'll see you at home. Tell Amelia that I'll be home soon." Penny beamed, to Penny, Y/n feels like another daughter of her. She gives out a good advices, she showed up at her highschool graduation.

"See ya later." She waved bye at Penng on her way she heard someone playing the piano, causing her stop in mid tracks. He was playing their favourite song when they were little.

She look towards the piano to see her brother figure playing, Bradley who felt he was being watched glanced to his shoulder to his sister figure waving at him. She make a phone like on her hand mouthing call me before leaving the Hard Deck.

Y/n walks out to find her dad staring inside the Hard deck listening to the crowd singing along with Bradley who's playing Great Balls of Fire. He was quiet and looked pale.

"Dad, are you okay?" She asked him.

"No it's okay sweetie, I'm fine. Come on let's go home." Maverick said pulling her into a side hug.

🗒 ❛ note༉‧₊˚✧

I've spend a day for this chapter, I want to write at least one chapter for this book.

Word count: 2.5K

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