A Drunken Hit Part 1 : Never Have I Ever Wrote A Breakup Song About My Ex
A Drunken Hit Part 2 : It’s 1pm You Plebeians
One Shots :
Ordinary People (bakugou x fm reader!)
TOP GUN : MAVERICK
Series :
Tangled
* Prequel : In My Dreams
*Chapter 1 : Return to California
*Chapter 2 : Duchess Takes Flight
Chapter 3 : Challenging Boundaries
*Chapter 4 : Close Call
*Chapter 5 : I Ain’t Worried
*Chapter 6 : Behind Closed Doors
*Chapter 7 : Misinterpreted Signals
*Chapter 8 : Do I Wanna Know?
*Chapter 9 : All In, Or Out?
*Chapter 10 : No Second Chances
One Shots :
Red Tails and Roosters (Rooster X Black F! Reader)
i may have read it 2-3 years ago (?) it was a multi-part fic. it was a charlie weasley x reader fic where the reader was in love with bill but it turned out bill liked rowan instead, and so bill and rowan start dating. to help get over bill, charlie proposes that the reader and him start hooking up / fake dating (?) i believe but then they actually end up falling for each other. i think i remember charlie having a jealousy scene. any help is greatly appreciated and if i can’t find it, any fic close to that plot would be nice to read too! 🩷
i may have read it 2-3 years ago (?) it was a multi-part fic. it was a charlie weasley x reader fic where the reader was in love with bill but it turned out bill liked rowan instead, and so bill and rowan start dating. to help get over bill, charlie proposes that the reader and him start hooking up / fake dating (?) i believe but then they actually end up falling for each other. i think i remember charlie having a jealousy scene. any help is greatly appreciated and if i can’t find it, any fic close to that plot would be nice to read too! 🩷
I think one of my biggest issues with some of the fantasy/historical books are the setting/period. like distant shores I think should have just been a straight up pirate book, not a time traveller thing. I wish olympus rising were just some sort of straight up ancient Greek storyline with no modernisation. give me more story settings like a courtesan of Rome or the Royal masquerade or tcatf and blades!!!
I just imagine the worst case senerio mc is very much in love with sebastian but is to much of a coward and ominis is just like date me and we will see if he does anything I imagine ominis just wanting to start some chaos for fun up to you if mc stays with ominis or goes to sebastian
Desperate Times, Desperate Measures | Sebastian Sallow x Reader
BAHAHA I love chaotic Ominis energy, thank you so much for this fun idea anon!!!
Words: ~2,900
Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Fluff Again, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance
Beta: @newdreamlove95💚
You weren’t sure how the conversation had gotten to this point. One moment, you were lamenting to Ominis about your absolutely humiliating, all-consuming love for Sebastian Sallow—your best friend, the object of your affection, the man who would never actually see you as anything more than a friend. The next?
"Date me," Ominis said, far too casually for something that nearly made you choke on your tea.
You blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"
"Pretend to date me. Just for a little while," he repeated, smirking. "Let's see if it gets a reaction out of him."
You gawked at him. "Ominis. That’s—that’s ridiculous. That’s insane."
"It’s brilliant," he corrected smoothly. "You’re too much of a coward to confess, and Sebastian is too much of an idiot to realize he loves you. So, why not give him a little… motivation?"
You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "This is absurd," you muttered, but a traitorous part of you—the one that had suffered through years of unspoken feelings, of watching Sebastian flirt his way through half the bloody school without sparing you a second glance—was tempted.
Ominis, sensing your hesitance, leaned in. "Come now, darling," he drawled, his voice dripping with mischief. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"
And that was how you ended up fake-dating Ominis Gaunt.
At first, it was just small things—little gestures designed to sell the illusion. Ominis would walk you to class, hold doors open for you, lean in close when you spoke so it seemed like you were sharing something secret, something intimate.
It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was.. quite nice. Pleasant even.
Ominis was handsome—sharply so, with his angular features and regal posture. He was charming, too, undeniably a gentleman. He treated you well—better than well. If you hadn’t already been hopelessly in love with someone else, you might have been in danger of falling for him for real.
The first time he kissed your cheek, it was at breakfast.
The Great Hall was loud, buzzing with idle chatter and the clatter of silverware, but the moment Ominis leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek—so soft and brief, like it was something he’d done a hundred times before—the world seemed to pause.
You heard the sharp inhale Sebastian took from across the table.
A beat of silence.
Then, chaos.
Gasping. Whispering. A sudden scraping of chairs as people leaned in to murmur, eyes darting to you, to Ominis, to Sebastian—who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but had gone very still, his knuckles white as he gripped his fork. The sound of your name mixed with Ominis’s swirled around you in frantic, excited voices.
"Are they together?"
"Since when?"
"They never said anything!"
The rumors spread like fiendfyre. By lunchtime, people were glancing at you with barely contained excitement, whispering whenever you and Ominis walked past. At dinner, Imelda raised an eyebrow and said, "Didn’t peg you for Gaunt’s type, but you two are sort of cute together, I suppose."
And all Sebastian did was sit there.
Not a word. Not a single comment. Just tense silence.
Ominis, for his part, was thoroughly enjoying himself. His theatrics only increased as the day went on—light touches on your arm, a hand resting at the small of your back when you walked, the occasional teasing whisper that made it look like he was saying something scandalous. But the longer it went on, the more painfully obvious it became:
There was a Sebastian-shaped void in your heart.
And no matter how much you enjoyed Ominis’s company, no matter how sweet and effortless it all felt—he wasn’t him.
He wasn’t the one you wanted to laugh with, to steal glances at when he wasn’t looking. His touch wasn’t the one you craved, his voice wasn’t the one you longed to hear first thing in the morning. It wasn’t Ominis who made your heart race with just a look, who made your pulse stutter every time he leaned in a little too close.
It was Sebastian.
And Sebastian, the idiot, was doing absolutely nothing.
Until the fifth day.
Until you were sitting in the common room, curled up on the couch with Ominis, his arm slung lazily over the back of the cushions behind you, when Sebastian finally—finally—snapped.
It started small, just a shift in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago. You felt it before you saw it—before you looked up and found Sebastian standing over you, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked.
Your breath caught. His voice was even, but there was something off about it. Something dangerous.
Ominis hummed beside you, amused. "She’s rather comfortable at the moment, Sallow. Surely it can wait?"
Sebastian’s eyes flickered to him, dark and sharp. "No, it can’t."
Ominis barely concealed his smirk. He made a show of shifting away from you, drawing his hand back, and you knew he was enjoying every second of this.
You let Sebastian pull you from the couch, his grip firm around your wrist as he all but dragged you out of the common room.
Only when you were alone—tucked away in a quiet corridor where no one else could hear—did he let go.
Your wrist tingled where his fingers had been. You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the weight of his stare.
Sebastian didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, staring at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His hands clenched into fists, like he was barely restraining himself.
"Since when?" His voice was rough, the words scraping against his throat.
You blinked. "Since when what?"
His expression darkened. "Don’t play dumb," he said, stepping closer. "Since when have you liked Ominis?"
You hesitated. There were a thousand ways you could answer, a thousand ways you could end this little charade—but you weren’t sure you were ready to.
"Why do you care?" you asked instead, your voice quieter than before.
His eyes flashed. "Why do I—" He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Are you serious?"
"You never cared before," you pointed out, tilting your chin up. "You're the one spending every waking moment with some girl or another. Why does it matter if I'm with Ominis?"
"Because he’s not right for you," Sebastian snapped. "He doesn’t—he’s not—" He broke off, frustrated, like the words were getting caught in his throat. "Do you even like him?" he asked suddenly, voice sharper now, accusing.
You swallowed. "Of course I do."
"Yeah?" Sebastian's lips curled, a flicker of something cruel in his expression. "Then say it."
Your stomach twisted. "Sebastian—"
"Say you love him," he challenged, stepping closer. "Tell me you love him."
For a long, aching moment, the two of you just stared at each other. The dim glow of the torches cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the storm raging in his dark eyes. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him like this before—so desperate, so unguarded.
And maybe you should have ended it right there. Maybe you should have told him the truth—that it had all been fake, that Ominis had only done it to force his hand, that you had always wanted him. But after years of pining, years of watching him chase after other girls while you sat on the sidelines, something petty and reckless inside you wanted to push him just a little bit further.
You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with as much conviction as you could muster.
"I love Ominis," you said.
It was a lie, a flimsy, paper-thin thing, but you said it anyway.
Sebastian stilled.
For a moment, there was nothing—just the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, the way the candlelight flickered against the stone walls.
Then he laughed—a hollow, humorless sound.
"You're such a shit liar," he muttered.
He took another step forward, closing the remaining space between you, and suddenly, there was nowhere to go. Your back hit the cold stone wall, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, but Sebastian didn’t touch you. He just stood there, so close you could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of cedar and parchment and something distinctly him.
You had spent years longing for Sebastian Sallow, years waiting for even a fraction of this attention. And now? Now he was looking at you like he was one breath away from devouring you whole.
You swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of stubbornness you had left. "I'm not lying."
His lips twitched. Wrong answer
"Yeah?" he murmured. "Then say it again. Say it like you mean it."
You swallowed hard. "Alright fine," you admitted. "Maybe I don't love him, but—"
"But what?" His hand slammed against the wall beside your head, fingers curling into a fist as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "I don't get it. You don't even fucking like him that way, it's obvious, and yet suddenly you're dating?"
A lump formed in your throat. "Why does it matter?! You've never cared before!"
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"You think I don't care?" His fingers twitched at his sides, his restraint fraying right before your eyes. "You think I could just sit there and watch you be with someone else and not lose my fucking mind?"
He scoffed.
"Do you have any idea what these last few days have been like for me?" he leaned even closer—so close now that his nose brushed yours. "Watching him touch you like that? Watching you smile at him like he hung the fucking stars?"
Your heart slammed against your ribs. "Sebastian—"
"No." His hands came up, fingers brushing against your jaw before gripping—not rough, not painful, but enough to hold you still. Enough to make sure you listened. "I have been hopelessly in love with you for years, and now you're dating my best fucking friend?"
You felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs.
Sebastian Sallow—your best friend, the man who had occupied every stolen thought, every quiet wish, every stupid, hopeless dream—was looking at you like you were his entire world. Like he couldn’t breathe without you.
You stared at him, lips parted, breath caught in your throat.
"You... you love me?"
"Of course I love you," he said, voice rough with frustration, with desperation. "How could you not know that?"
"Because you never said anything!" you shot back, your voice trembling. "Because you’ve spent years acting like I was just your friend while you flirted with every other girl in Hogwarts! Because you—"
Sebastian cursed under his breath. "None of them were you!"
Your breath hitched.
"None of them ever mattered," he continued. "Do you hear me? Not a single one of them."
His hands were trembling now, his jaw tight, his brows drawn in an expression that looked almost pained. His thumb brushed against your cheek, just barely, as if testing whether this was happening, whether he had already lost you.
Your resolve crumbled. Seeing him like this, you couldn’t lie anymore.
Not when you had spent years pretending you were fine being his friend. Not when he was right here, raw and desperate, telling you everything you had ever wanted to hear.
“I love you too,” you whispered.
Sebastian's eyes widened, his breath hitching like you had just knocked the wind out of him. His grip on you faltered for a split second—like he couldn’t believe he had actually heard the words.
"You do?" He breathed.
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your heart racing. "Of course I do, I always have."
Sebastian let out something between a laugh and a shuddering breath, like he had just been freed from something unbearable.
But then his fingers tensed against your cheek, his brows furrowing.
"Then why the hell are you dating Ominis?" he demanded, his voice still breathless but frustrated now, like his brain had just caught up with the situation.
You winced.
Well. This part was going to be awkward.
You hesitated, your hands reaching to grip the front of his robes as you avoided his piercing stare. “Uh… well—”
“Well?”
You cleared your throat. “Technically, I’m not… really… dating Ominis.”
Silence. Dead, suffocating silence.
"What?"
You winced again, gripping his robes tighter. “It isn’t real.”
“…Excuse me?”
You let out a nervous laugh. “Ominis—uh, may have suggested it, you see, and I may have agreed to—”
Sebastian pulled back, staring at you in disbelief. “You’re fake-dating my best friend?”
You nodded weakly. “Mmm. Just a bit.”
Sebastian opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. And then he groaned, dragging both hands down his face, his entire body practically vibrating with irritation. “I lost my fucking mind for five days over something that wasn’t even real?”
You bit your lip. “Well, when you say it like that—”
Sebastian cut you off by grabbing your face, tilting it up, his eyes blazing.
“You schemed with Ominis,” he growled, shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You plotted against me.”
You gave him a sheepish smile. “Yes, but it worked, didn’t it?”
Sebastian inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on you tightening. Before you could even think of saying anything more, he crashed his lips against yours.
You gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t give you a second to react. Didn't give you a second to tease him, to smirk about how well your little plan had worked, because he was done playing games.
His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, kissing you like he was staking his claim, like he was furious with you but couldn’t stop himself. And you—you melted instantly, hands threading through his hair, pressing yourself closer, deeper, letting him consume you whole.
It was heat and desperation and frustration, the kind of kiss that made your entire body feel weak, made you feel like Sebastian was the only thing keeping you upright, and fuck—
You were so gone for him.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged.
“You conniving little minx,” he murmured, shaking his head, though there was something almost fond beneath the exasperation in his voice. “You really schemed against me.”
You shrugged, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “To be fair, it was Ominis’s idea.”
Sebastian pulled back just enough to glare at you. “Of course it was.”
“I just went along with it.”
He scoffed. “Oh, sure. Just an innocent bystander in your own elaborate scheme.”
“Well,” you tilted your head. “I didn’t know if it would work. I didn't even think you liked me that way.”
Sebastian groaned, dragging one hand through his hair before gripping your waist even tighter. “Merlin, you really don’t have a single clue, do you?”
You hesitated, chewing your lip. “I mean… no, but I was pretty hopeless, so... desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Sebastian let out a strangled laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Unbelievable.”
You gave him an innocent smile. “Are you saying you would’ve confessed if I hadn’t fake-dated Ominis?”
Sebastian let out a huff, tipping his head back like he was asking the ceiling for patience. Then he leveled you with a pointed stare. “I don’t know, maybe I would have! Eventually! I was getting there!”
You snorted. “Yeah? When? After I married someone else?”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Not funny.”
You grinned, unable to stop yourself. “Kind of funny.”
His fingers flexed against your waist, like he was debating whether to throttle you or kiss you again.
“I should be furious with you,” he muttered.
You tilted your head, considering. “But you’re not.”
His jaw worked. “No. Because now I finally have you.”
A slow, deliberate clap echoed from down the corridor.
You both whipped around to see Ominis, leaning far too casually against the wall, looking deeply pleased with himself.
"Beautifully done," he said, smirking. "Truly magnificent."
Sebastian groaned, dragging both hands down his face. "Merlin’s bloody beard."
You, on the other hand, couldn’t help the way your lips twitched as you met Ominis’s self-satisfied gaze. He looked positively smug, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he was enjoying every second of this.
“I hate you,” Sebastian muttered at him.
Ominis hummed, completely unbothered. “No, you don’t.” He pushed off the wall, taking a few slow steps toward the two of you. “In fact, I daresay you love me. Perhaps not as much as you love her, but still.”
Sebastian scowled, muttering something under his breath about “smarmy little bastards” while Ominis grinned like he’d just won the House Cup.
“I have to admit,” Ominis continued, tapping a finger against his chin, “I thought you’d crack after three days. Four, at the most. But no, you really dragged it out.”
Sebastian shot him a glare. "Piss off."
Ominis only grinned.
"Enjoy your night, lovebirds," he said, strolling away like he hadn’t just orchestrated your entire love life.
His footsteps retreated, and Sebastian let out a frustrated groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
You laughed breathlessly, still a little dazed, still reeling from everything that had just happened. "So… are you going to thank him later?"
Sebastian huffed against your skin. "I’m going to kill him later."
Then he pulled back just enough to kiss you again. And this time, neither of you stopped.
Red Tails and Roosters (Rooster X Black F! Reader)
Red Tails and Roosters - One Shot (Word Count - 1k)
a/n : I decided to write a quick Rooster x Black F! Reader while I finish writing the final chapters of Tangled. I hope you enjoy it!
Lieutenant Commander Laila "Blaze" Carter had spent her whole life defying expectations. Growing up, she carried the weight and honor of her grandfather’s legacy—Colonel James Carter, a decorated Tuskegee Airman who had flown through hell and back when the world doubted him. His stories of perseverance and skill had fueled her dreams, leading her straight into the cockpit of an F/A-18 Super Hornet, where she had earned her callsign and the respect of every pilot who flew alongside her.
Including Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.
They had met at Top Gun, two stubborn pilots who clashed in the air but always found themselves drinking at the same table afterward. Over the years, their friendship had been forged in late-night training sessions, shared victories, and the occasional heated argument that neither backed down from. Rooster had become her closest confidant, her anchor when the weight of her own history felt too heavy.
But Laila’s journey had never been easy. In a world dominated by men, and often by white men, her path was littered with obstacles designed to break her spirit. Racist remarks veiled as jokes, condescending comments questioning her capability, and the ever-present pressure of representing her race and gender in every flight—each battle left a scar.
"You’re good, Carter," they’d say, "for a woman."
"Didn’t think someone like you would make it this far."
But Laila was fueled by more than just a desire to prove herself. Her grandfather had once told her, "They didn’t want us in the sky, but we showed them the sky was ours, too." Every flight, and every maneuver was her way of claiming the space denied to so many before her.
Rooster saw it all—the microaggressions, the blatant disrespect, the ways Laila had to fight twice as hard for half the recognition. And it enraged him, pushing him to stand by her, not as a savior but as a comrade who respected her skill and her heart.
The Hangar, Naval Air Station North Island
The sunset bathed the runway in gold, painting long shadows as Laila wiped the grease off her hands. She had just finished a post-flight check, her body aching from hours in the air. Rooster leaned against the nose of his jet, arms crossed, watching her with an easy smirk.
“You always stay longer than you need to, Blaze,” he said.
She shrugged. “You say that like you don’t do the same thing, Rooster.”
He chuckled. “Fair point.” He hesitated, then pushed off the jet and stepped closer. He peered down to see a familiar sparkle of gold spill out from under your flight suit. It was a tiny chain with a locket, one that held a picture of your grandfather, and he swore he never saw you take it off.
“You never talk much about your grandfather.”
Laila’s fingers tensed around the rag in her hand. “What’s there to say?”
“A lot.” His voice was gentler now. “He’s a legend.”
She sighed, tilting her head toward the open sky. “He was more than that. He was the reason I’m here. The reason I didn’t quit when things got tough.”
Rooster studied her. “And it got tough, didn’t it?”
Laila exhaled, nodding. “You know how it is. The whispers, the doubt. It’s different for you.” She looked at him then, her dark eyes searching his face. “You had Maverick. I had my granddad’s stories and a whole lot of people waiting for me to fail.”
Rooster’s jaw tightened. “They were wrong.”
She smiled, small but genuine. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Rooster stepped even closer, the heat of his body radiating against her skin.
“You’re the best damn pilot I’ve ever flown with, Laila.” His voice was steady, certain. “And not just because of your grandfather. Because of you.”
Something in her chest ached at his words.
And suddenly, it was impossible to ignore the weight of what she felt for him.
The way she had always trusted him more than anyone. The way he understood her in a way most never could.
The way he was looking at her now—like she was the sky itself, and he was more than willing to fall.
“You ever gonna admit it?” she murmured.
Rooster’s brow furrowed. “Admit what?”
“That you want this to be more than friendship.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before chuckling softly. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“You weren’t.”
Rooster met her gaze, his hazel eyes burning with something she wasn’t sure she was ready for—but she wanted it anyway.
“I’ve been in love with you for years, Laila.” His voice was low, steady. “But I wasn’t gonna push. You were dealing with a lot, you had to be ready to see it.”
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. “And if I see it now?”
His smirk softened into something real, something dangerous.
“Then I’m done waiting.”
Laila took a breath—then closed the distance between them.
The moment their lips met, it was like taking off for the first time—pure adrenaline, weightlessness, the rush of something inevitable. His hands found her waist, pulling her close, and she melted into him, into the quiet certainty of what they had both known for far too long.
When they pulled apart, Rooster rested his forehead against hers. “Took you long enough.”
Laila smirked. “You know what they say about good pilots.”
He grinned. “Yeah?”
“We always take our time before making the right call.”
Rooster chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to trust your judgment, Lieutenant Commander Carter.”
Laila laughed, the weight of expectations and fear finally lifting.
For the first time, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, love was another kind of flight—one she was more than ready to take.
The roar of jet engines filled the cockpit, rattling through Madeline’s bones as she gripped the controls tighter. The valley walls were too close, the G-forces pressing her hard against the seat as she followed Rooster’s lead.
"Focus, Duchess. One mistake, and you’re done."
Maverick’s words from the briefing echoed in her head. There was no room for hesitation. No room for fear.
She could do this. They could do this.
“Stay tight on me,” Rooster’s voice crackled over comms, steady despite the intensity of the mission.
“I’m right here,” she shot back, her eyes locked on his jet just ahead.
The squad was executing the mission exactly as planned—low-altitude flying, threading the needle through the impossible terrain, enemy radar barely missing them as they weaved through the valley. Everything was going right.
Until it wasn’t.
"Incoming!" Hangman’s voice cut through the comms. “They’ve locked onto us!”
A cold spike of adrenaline shot through Madeline’s veins. She glanced at her radar—two enemy bogeys were moving in fast.
"Break formation!" Maverick ordered. "Duchess, Rooster, take the left canyon—lose ‘em in the cliffs!"
Madeline didn’t hesitate. "Copy that!"
She and Rooster veered off, their jets splitting from the others. The enemy fighters followed.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. The tight rock formations gave them some cover, but they also left zero room for error.
"Rooster, talk to me," she called out, trying to keep her breathing even as she swerved between two cliffs, nearly grazing the stone.
"They’re still on us," he gritted out. "We need to—"
A missile warning blared in her headset.
"Shit," she gasped, yanking the stick hard to the right. The missile barely missed her, exploding against the canyon wall in a flash of fire and debris.
But the maneuver cost her.
She glanced at her HUD—she had lost visual on Rooster.
"Bradshaw, where are you?" she demanded, heart slamming against her ribs.
Static.
"Rooster!"
Nothing.
Her stomach turned to ice.
The canyon was a labyrinth, the sky above barely visible through the jagged rock formations. She twisted her head, scanning frantically for any sign of his jet.
Then—an explosion in the distance.
Madeline’s blood ran cold.
"No. No, no, no—"
She pulled up hard, ignoring the missile alerts blaring in her ears. Her hands were shaking.
"Rooster, answer me!"
Silence.
She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to think.
If I were Rooster, where would I go?
A movement caught her eye—a flicker of white and gray in the distance. She didn’t hesitate.
She dove low, skimming dangerously close to the canyon floor. Her radar flickered. There.
"Hang on, I’m coming," she muttered, gripping the throttle as she sped toward the signal.
Then his voice finally crackled through.
"Duchess—"
Her breath hitched.
"Rooster, are you hit?"
A pause. Then, "No, but I lost my comms for a second. I took a hit to my right wing—can’t climb out."
She exhaled sharply. "I see you."
His jet was skimming low, trailing smoke but still airborne. The enemy fighters were closing in.
She didn’t think. She acted.
Madeline yanked the stick, pulling into a sharp climb, looping around to get behind the pursuing fighters. She locked onto the first one and fired.
Direct hit.
The second bogey broke away, but she stayed on its tail.
"Rooster, you’re clear! Get out of here!"
"What about you?" he shot back.
"I’ve got this," she bit out, laser-focused on her target.
The enemy fighter pulled into a steep climb, trying to shake her, but Madeline wasn’t letting go.
She squeezed the trigger.
Missile away.
The explosion rocked through the canyon, lighting up the sky.
The enemy was gone.
She let out a breath, chest heaving.
"Rooster, what’s your status?"
"Still in one piece," he said, but his voice was tight. "But we need to get the hell out of here before more of them show up."
She didn’t argue.
Together, they maneuvered out of the canyon, reconnecting with the squad as they raced toward home base.
The moment they crossed into friendly airspace, Maverick’s voice came through.
"Good work. Let’s bring it home."
Madeline barely heard him.
Her hands were still trembling on the controls.
She had almost lost him.
The second they touched down, Rooster was out of his jet before she could even unbuckle her harness.
She barely had time to climb down before he was there.
Grabbing her.
His hands were firm on her shoulders, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His eyes searched her face like he wasn’t sure she was real.
"Jesus Christ, Mads," he rasped.
Her breath caught.
"I thought—" He stopped, exhaling sharply before shaking his head. "I thought I lost you."
Her throat tightened.
"You didn’t," she whispered.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The roar of jets, the chatter of the crew—it all faded into the background. It was just them.
Then Rooster pulled her in.
Not a kiss, not yet. But an embrace so tight she could feel his heartbeat hammering against her own.
"I can’t lose you," he murmured, voice raw. "Not again."
She closed her eyes, gripping his flight suit.
"Bradshaw—"
"Debrief. Now."
Maverick’s sharp voice cut through the moment.
Rooster stiffened, but his hands didn’t leave her waist.
Madeline exhaled shakily before forcing herself to step back.
The moment was gone.
Duty called.
But as she followed Rooster toward the briefing room, her pulse was still racing.
Because this—whatever it was between them—was far from over.
The morning after shouldn’t have felt this normal.
Madeline woke to the warmth of Rooster’s body pressed against her back, his slow, even breaths brushing against the nape of her neck. The sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, casting soft golden lines across his bare chest, the sheets tangled between them. For a moment, she allowed herself to just be. No missions, no rivalry, no tension pulling them apart. Just him. Just them.
But normal had never been in the cards for them.
She carefully untangled herself from his grip, slipping out of bed and grabbing the nearest piece of clothing—Rooster’s shirt, which hung loosely off her frame. As she padded toward the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser. Her eyes flicked over the subtle marks of last night’s intensity—the slight ache in her muscles, the way her lips still tingled from his kisses, the mess of her hair.
And then she saw it.
A deep, unmistakable hickey just above her collarbone, dark against her skin.
"You’ve gotta be kidding me," she muttered, fingers pressing against the mark. It wasn’t just noticeable—it was practically a goddamn declaration.
She spun toward the bed, where Rooster was now propped up on one elbow, watching her with a slow, satisfied grin.
"You son of a—"
"Morning to you too, Duchess," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.
She glared at him, pointing at her neck. "What the hell is this?"
Rooster stretched, utterly unbothered, before folding his arms behind his head. "Huh. Would you look at that?" His smirk deepened. "Guess I got a little carried away."
Madeline grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his face. He caught it effortlessly, laughing as he sat up. "Hey, you weren’t exactly complaining last night."
"That’s not the point, Bradshaw!" she hissed, scrambling for her flight suit. "Everyone is going to see this."
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "So? Let ‘em."
She swore under her breath, yanking on her clothes and fastening the collar as high as it would go. It wasn’t enough. The damn thing peeked out, no matter how much she adjusted the fabric.
Rooster, still shirtless and maddeningly relaxed, just watched her. "Relax, Mads. It’s just a hickey. Not like they don’t already suspect something."
"Yeah, well, now they’ll know."
He chuckled, finally standing and stretching before grabbing his own clothes. "Guess you’ll just have to own it, then."
She groaned, yanking on her boots. "I hate you."
"No, you don’t," he said easily, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before she could stop him.
Madeline scowled but felt the heat rising to her face. With one final glare, she stormed out of her house, hoping to clear her head on the drive-over, muttering under her breath the whole way to the hangar.
She could only hope no one would notice.
She was wrong.
The moment she stepped onto the tarmac, Hangman’s voice rang out like a damn loudspeaker.
"Well, well, well... Duchess, looking especially radiant today."
Madeline froze mid-step.
Phoenix, standing near one of the jets, looked up, frowned—and then did a double take.
"Oh my God," she breathed, eyes locked onto Madeline’s neck.
Madeline braced herself.
Coyote whistled. Bob blinked in surprise. Payback exchanged looks with Fanboy before they both burst out laughing.
"Jesus, Cage," Coyote grinned. "I thought we were supposed to be the ones taking a beating in training."
"I’m going to kill him," she muttered under her breath.
"Who’s the lucky bird?" Hangman mused, arms crossed over his chest. "Or should I say... rooster?"
Madeline lunged for him, but Phoenix caught her by the collar before she could land a punch.
"Easy, tiger," Phoenix said, though her smirk betrayed her amusement. "No need to confirm anything just yet."
"Confirm what?" Rooster’s voice cut through the group, casual as ever as he strode up. "What’s all the commotion about?"
The squad turned to him in unison, like a pack of wolves scenting blood.
Rooster barely glanced at Madeline before fixing his attention on his flight gloves, utterly composed.
Hangman leaned against a bench, grinning like the devil. "We were just admiring Cage’s new accessory," he said, nodding toward Madeline’s collar. "Hell of a training accident, huh?"
Madeline could feel Rooster’s amusement before she even looked at him. He kept his expression neutral, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Training can be rough," he said smoothly. "Gotta stay focused."
She nearly kicked him.
Before anyone could press further, Maverick’s voice echoed across the hangar.
"Enough gossip, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve got work to do."
Madeline let out a slow breath of relief as the squad dispersed, but she caught Phoenix shooting her a look as they walked toward the briefing room.
"You’re so screwed," Phoenix muttered under her breath.
Madeline sighed. "Don’t remind me."
The atmosphere in the briefing room shifted from amused to dead serious the moment Maverick pulled up the mission layout on the projector.
"This is it," he said. "The mission’s been greenlit."
A map flickered onto the screen, showing the enemy’s fortified valley—deep, narrow, nearly impossible to navigate.
"The parameters remain the same. High Gs, rapid ascent, precision flying. One mistake, and you’re done."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Madeline forced herself to focus, her earlier embarrassment drowned out by the weight of the task ahead.
"We need teams who can trust each other completely," Maverick continued. His gaze flickered toward her and Rooster. "Cage, Bradshaw—you’re flying together."
The air seemed to shift.
Rooster’s jaw tightened. He gave a small nod. "Understood, sir."
Madeline swallowed. All in, or out?
She could feel Rooster’s presence beside her, solid, steady. Despite everything—every fight, every moment of tension—she knew one thing for certain.
In the air, there was no one she trusted more.
"Understood," she said firmly.
Maverick gave a sharp nod. "Good. Because this time, there’s no room for error."
The briefing continued, but the weight of their pairing lingered in the air. Madeline glanced at Rooster out of the corner of her eye. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers drummed against the table in a telltale sign of unease.
Later, as they exited the room, Rooster finally spoke, voice low.
"You ready for this?"
Madeline looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, there was no teasing, no sharp edges—just a question.
She exhaled. "Yeah. I am."
Rooster held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. "Then let’s do this."
She didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, she knew—she wasn’t ready for a world where he wasn’t in it.
And that scared her more than any mission ever could.
a/n : I have never written smut before, so I hope you all enjoy!
After the kiss, neither of them spoke at first, but suddenly Madeline’s legs gave out.
“Woah.” Rooster said, grabbing her up swiftly. “Let me get you home.”
In a flash, Rooster was driving Madeline home, the car ride silent except for the pattering of rain hitting the outside.
When they reached the house, it was then Madeline realized just how bad the weather conditions were.
“Rooster, there’s literally no way I’m letting you drive back out there.” She said.
Rooster opened his mouth to protest but slammed his jaw shut, not wanting to fight with Madeline more.
“I’ll get you a change of clothes, or at least a warm blanket.” Madeline said, darting up the stairs to save herself from furthering this already awkward conversation.
When she got down the stairs, she looked up at Rooster, his wet white shirt clinging to his skin, outlining his abs. Madeline stared a little too longingly.
Rooster took his shirt off, and Madeline could swear he was doing it slowly on purpose. His abdomen was rock hard, with a few scars in various places. Madeline’s breath hitched at the sight of it.
“Like something you see, Maddy?” Rooster said coyly, a small smirk forming on his face.
“Maddy? I haven’t heard that in a long time," Madeline said, handing over her biggest shirt to Rooster.
Rooster took a step closer to her, closing the gap between them. “I know, I just missed saying it.” He said softly.
And just then, it was like a switch flipped. Madeline lunged for Rooster, her arms lacing around his neck while she pressed her lips to his. Rooster reciprocated, deepening the kiss and sliding an arm behind her head to hold her closely.
As they made out, it became more rough and more needy. Rooster lifted Madeline up, cupping her ass as he brought her to the kitchen island. Madeline pushed items off of it, clearing space to feel more of everything, and especially more of Rooster.
Rooster leaned Madeline down on the counters, the cold slab sending a shiver down her spine, but that feeling was replaced by the burning sensation she felt when Rooster broke their kiss and moved his mouth to the nape of her neck. He sucked and licked before using his tongue to trace wet circles from her collarbone to the bottom of her breasts.
Suddenly, Rooster used the tip of his teeth to softly bite down on her nipples. Rooster used his mouth to suck on them, making Madeline let out a small moan.
Rooster looked back up at her, a smirk settling on his face. He picked her up again, walking them upstairs to her bedroom. When they reached the desired destination, he threw Madeline on the bed. He got to work tearing off her clothes, while Madeline worked on getting his jeans off.
When Rooster finally got a good look at her, his breath hitched.
“My god, you’re beautiful.” He said breathlessly. Madeline blushed, holding back a smile.
“You’re not too bad yourself.” She retorted, very clearly admiring the view.
After taking a good 10 seconds to appraise her body, Madeline cleared her throat, breaking Rooster out of his trance. He dove on top of her, and the making out resumed, while Rooster slid his hands between her legs, feeling a damp pool. He slowly started pumping fingers in, picking up speed as he heard Madeline’s moans grow louder and louder. After a while, he positioned himself and entered her.
They both gasped, the sensation taking over them.
“Fuck Madeline,” Rooster called out, with every thrust something building in him. Madeline’s back arched, with her grabbing the sheets and head rolling back.
A little while after, they both climaxed, falling back on the bed with a small thud.
Their chests rose and fell as they fought to catch their breath. They turned their heads to look at each other, and slowly sleep lulled over the both of them.
The Hard Deck was buzzing with energy, the familiar sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses filling the air as the team gathered around, celebrating the success of their latest training mission. The adrenaline had worn off, but the sense of camaraderie and relief still lingered, keeping spirits high.
"Alright, who’s buying the first round?" Hangman called out, swaggering into the room with a wide grin on his face. "I’ve been out there risking my life, people. Somebody owes me a drink!"
Payback rolled his eyes. "Risking your life? You were literally out there posing with your jet like it’s your personal Instagram account."
Hangman didn’t miss a beat. "Hey, keeping up appearances is important. Gotta look good while I’m saving your asses."
"Sure it is," Phoenix shot back, raising an eyebrow. "If saving our asses means looking in a mirror."
The group laughed, settling into their usual spots. Rooster, following behind, took a seat at the bar. The team’s banter was comforting, a familiar rhythm. But something was off. His eyes flicked to Madeline, who was perched on a bar stool beside Bob. They were deep in conversation, and the way Bob’s arm rested on Madeline’s shoulder made Rooster’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
"Look at them," Coyote muttered under his breath, watching the way Bob leaned in closer to Madeline, their heads nearly touching. "Can’t tell if they’re talking about the mission or sharing some secret they’ve been hiding."
Rooster’s eyes narrowed, and a sense of jealousy he couldn’t quite shake gnawed at him. "It’s just a friendly conversation," he mumbled to himself, but the words lacked conviction.
"Oh, no, no, no," Hangman suddenly said, nudging Rooster with his elbow, his voice loud and teasing. "You’re doing it again. That look on your face? It’s all over you, man. You’re jealous, aren’t you?"
Rooster tried to brush it off. "Jealous? Nah, I’m not jealous," he said with a forced chuckle, taking a long sip of his beer to avoid the situation.
"Come on, man," Hangman said, giving him an exaggerated once-over, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief. "The way you’re staring at them, all intense, all... possessive. It’s giving 'I can't stand to see her with anyone else' vibes. You know what I mean?"
Rooster gritted his teeth. "I’m not jealous," he muttered, but he couldn’t deny the heat rising in his chest.
Phoenix, overhearing Hangman’s jab, leaned in, her voice playful but laced with a teasing edge. "Oh, trust me, Rooster. You’re definitely jealous. It’s written all over your face. You’re practically frothing at the mouth."
"I’m not frothing!" Rooster shot back, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.
"Sure you’re not," Payback added, his grin widening. "But that vein popping out on your forehead says otherwise. Someone’s got a case of the green-eyed monster."
Fanboy, always the joker, leaned across the table, winking at Rooster. "Don’t worry, Rooster. Bob’s a nice guy. He won’t bite... unless you want him to."
"Shut up," Rooster snapped, feeling the frustration building up in his chest as he watched Bob’s hand rest lightly on Madeline’s shoulder. The way they shared quiet laughter, the way their faces lit up together—it was like a private world, and he wasn’t a part of it.
"Wow, someone’s really worked up," Payback chimed in with a smirk, eyeing Rooster. "You know, jealousy looks good on you. But, uh, Bob’s a little too smooth for you, I think."
Hangman let out a low whistle. "Bob’s got that 'I’m a gentle giant' thing going on. I mean, look at the way he’s just casually touching her. That’s some high-level comfort right there."
"Yeah," Phoenix added, leaning in with a sly smile. "You know, the way Bob touches her? It’s like he’s marking his territory. Just a little hand on the shoulder, like, 'Yeah, she’s with me.'"
Rooster’s grip tightened around his glass as he bit back the urge to snap. "They’re just friends," he said, though his voice was strained.
"Oh, totally," Hangman said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Just friends. And I’m sure Bob’s just trying to help her with that… ‘mission stuff.’ All that ‘tactical’ talk. Uh-huh. Real tactical."
Coyote chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Man, if you’re not careful, Bob might start whispering sweet nothings in her ear. You know, like, ‘I’ll protect you, Madeline.’"
Rooster’s eyes flickered over to Madeline and Bob again. It wasn’t just the hand on her shoulder, or the way they laughed together—it was the way Bob’s eyes softened when he looked at her. And the way Madeline leaned into him, as if she trusted him in a way Rooster hadn’t seen before.
"You’re imagining things," Rooster said, but even he could tell how weak the excuse sounded. He felt like he was suffocating in his own jealousy.
"Just saying," Hangman teased. "You might want to step up your game, Rooster. Bob’s been playing the long game. He’s got those 'calm, cool, collected' vibes. You? You’ve got more of the 'loud, chaotic, stubborn' thing going on."
"Great," Rooster muttered under his breath, feeling the heat of frustration crawl up his neck. "This is just what I needed."
As the night wore on, Rooster couldn’t shake the feeling that every glance Madeline and Bob exchanged was like a weight pressing down on him. The teasing from his teammates only made it worse. Every word, every joke felt like a jab at his pride. And the more they teased him, the more he realized that he cared about Madeline—more than he had ever admitted to himself.
When the laughter finally began to die down, Rooster couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, his movements jerky and sharp, his fists clenched at his sides.
"I’m going to grab a refill," he muttered, his voice tight.
As he made his way to the bar, the nagging feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. Madeline and Bob were still in their corner, talking, laughing, their body language so comfortable that Rooster couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. His mind raced as he tried to shake the thoughts, but nothing seemed to work.
When he returned to the table, Madeline and Bob were still talking, and the sight of them was like a punch to his gut. The way Bob’s hand was still casually resting on the back of Madeline’s chair, the way she leaned in a little closer to him, their bodies turned into each other—all of it made Rooster’s insides churn.
Finally, the tension boiled over. Rooster couldn’t stand it anymore. He marched over to them, his face hard, and interrupted their conversation with a snap. "Madeline," he said, his voice sharp. "We need to talk."
Madeline blinked up at him, clearly caught off guard. "What’s going on, Rooster?"
"Can we talk? Alone," he said, his tone clipped.
Bob gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as he backed off, leaving Rooster and Madeline standing together in a quieter corner.
"What’s going on?" Madeline asked, her voice gentle, but there was a wariness to it now. "You’ve been acting weird all night."
Rooster’s chest tightened. He didn’t know how to explain it—didn’t know how to say that he couldn’t stand seeing her with Bob. He couldn’t stand the way Bob looked at her, like she was something he could claim.
"I don’t get it," Rooster blurted, his voice rising. "What’s going on with you and Bob? You two are… you’re just so close. It’s like you’ve got this little world, and I just don’t know what to think."
Madeline’s eyes softened, even though she was shocked by this partial confession, but she stepped closer to him, her hand gently touching his arm. "Rooster, Bob, and I are friends. That’s it."
But Rooster couldn’t seem to stop the words from tumbling out. "But it’s not just that. You two—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustration building. "You’re always laughing, and he’s always touching you, and I just—"
Before he could finish, he found himself kissing her. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t thought out. It was a rush of pent-up feelings, of confusion, of desire. The kiss was rough and urgent, and neither of them pulled away immediately.
When they finally broke apart, they stood there, breathless, eyes wide in shock at what had just happened.
After the beach football game, the tension between Madeline and Rooster had grown palpable, even when they weren’t in the same room. It was as if a thick fog surrounded them, a fog neither of them knew how to dissipate. Everyone could feel it—the uneasy silence when they exchanged glances, the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air. Something had happened between them, something deep that neither was ready to face. But in the quiet moments, when the noise of the world outside died down, the truth lingered—silent, unspoken, and unresolved.
Madeline couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like the tension between her and Rooster was suffocating. It was distracting her so much she couldn’t focus. She went to the only person who she thought could understand.
Madeline stood outside Maverick’s office, her hand hesitating over the doorknob. She had spent days avoiding this conversation, pretending that everything was fine, even though it was clear to anyone who had been around them that it wasn’t.
“Come in,” Maverick’s voice came from the other side of the door, breaking her train of thought.
Madeline pushed the door open and stepped inside, her heart pounding in her chest. Maverick looked up from his desk, his expression softening when he saw her. He gestured to the chair across from him.
“Something tells me you’re not here for paperwork,” Maverick said, his tone easy but knowing.
Madeline took a seat, her hands gripping the edge of the chair as she struggled to find the right words. “It’s about Rooster,” she said quietly.
Maverick raised an eyebrow. “I thought as much. What’s going on between you two?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything, but even now, the truth felt like a weight she wasn’t ready to carry. “I don’t know what happened, Maverick,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “We were fine, and then suddenly… it all just changed. We can’t even be in the same room without the tension hanging between us.”
Maverick’s eyes softened as he studied her. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “What happened before all this? Before things went south?”
Madeline hesitated, taking a deep breath before finally letting the words slip out. “I messed up. I pushed him too far. I lied to him, Maverick. And the worst part is, I didn’t even think about how it would affect him until it was too late.”
Maverick’s expression shifted, and he leaned forward, his voice gentle. “What happened?”
Madeline closed her eyes, the memory rushing back to her like a flood.
It had been a routine mission—or at least it was supposed to be. Rooster and Madeline had been paired together for what seemed like a standard operation. But things quickly escalated beyond their control. Rooster had been insistent on sticking to the plan, but Madeline had convinced him to change course. The plan was risky, but she’d argued that they had no other choice. In the end, it had been a gamble that put them both in danger. When they returned to base, Rooster was furious.
“You put us at risk!” Rooster had yelled. “You think you can just make decisions like that without considering the consequences? We could’ve died out there!”
Madeline had tried to downplay it. She had told him it was fine, that everything had gone according to plan, that there was nothing to worry about. But the truth was, she had been terrified. Terrified that she had pushed them too far, terrified that the mission could have gone horribly wrong. And even more terrified of facing Rooster’s anger.
She remembered the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal. But what hurt the most was what happened next. She had lied to him, pretending like it didn’t matter, pretending like everything was fine. And it wasn’t. It never had been.
“I told him everything was okay,” Madeline said, her voice trembling. “But it wasn’t. And I—I lied to him. I didn’t know how to fix it, so I acted like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t care. But it did matter. It matters more than anything. And now... now I don’t know how to fix it.”
Maverick’s eyes softened with understanding. He had seen this kind of pain before—had felt it himself. “I can’t tell you how to fix it, Madeline. But I can tell you this: if you care about him, you have to face it. Face the mess you made; own it. Because if you don’t, it’ll only get worse.”
“I don’t know how to fix this,” Madeline whispered, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “What if I lose him forever?”
Maverick leaned forward, his voice low and sincere. “You can’t fix it by running away. You’ve got to talk to him. Honestly. And maybe… just maybe he’ll listen.”
Meanwhile, Rooster sat alone in the mess hall, his fingers wrapped around a glass of water. His mind was racing, the past few days running through his head over and over. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, something that wasn’t being said. The anger had simmered between him and Madeline, and the unspoken words were eating at him. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong, but whatever it was, it had shaken him to his core.
Hangman, noticing Rooster’s distant look, walked over to him and took a seat across from him. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world, man,” Hangman said, his voice teasing but knowing.
Rooster glanced up, not meeting Hangman’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, though he knew Jake wasn’t buying it. “Just thinking.”
Hangman didn’t push, but he wasn’t going to let Rooster hide from whatever was eating at him, especially if it was costing them the mission. Hangman sighed and pulled up a chair.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, even though Jake knew it was about a certain feisty aviation fighter.
Rooster set the glass down and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s Madeline. I don’t know what happened. Everything was fine, and then she… she lied to me. She lied, Jake. She told me everything was fine when it wasn’t. I—I don’t know how to forgive her for that.”
Jake sighed and leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Rooster. “I get it. You’re hurt. But you’ve got to talk to her about it. You can’t just keep letting this fester. I know it’s hard, but if you care about her and whatever remains of your friendship, you’ve got to figure this out.”
If it wasn’t for his mood, Rooster would probably have died of shock from hearing Hangman give actual good advice.
Rooster shook his head, frustration in his voice. “I don’t know if I can. If I let her in, I’m scared I’ll just get hurt again. But if I keep pretending like everything’s fine, it’s like I’m lying to myself. I can’t keep doing that.”
Hangman placed a hand on Rooster’s shoulder. “You can’t carry this on your own, man. If you want to make things right, you’ve got to take the first step. Be honest with her. Be honest with yourself. Otherwise, it’s just going to keep tearing you up inside, and compromise the mission.”
“And…” Jake added, “I’ll personally kick your ass if you don’t get it together.” Hangman added cheekily.
Rooster rolled his eyes, and his mouth quickly turned up into a small smirk. Jake’s words hit harder than he expected. The fear of getting hurt again, the fear of losing Madeline for good—it all weighed heavily on him. But Jake was right. If he didn’t take the risk, if he didn’t open up, he would lose her anyway.
As the evening wore on, a shift began to happen. Madeline’s conversation with Maverick had sparked something inside her—something she couldn’t ignore anymore. And Rooster, after his talk with Hangman, was beginning to face his own fears. They weren’t ready to confront each other just yet, but the cracks in the walls they had both built were starting to show.
Later that night, they found themselves in the mess hall once more, the quiet hum of the room surrounding them. When their eyes met across the table, there was something there. A flicker of understanding, a moment of silent acknowledgment that, while they weren’t there yet, they were both trying.
The sun blazed high in the sky, casting its golden glow over the beach as the sound of crashing waves met the eager chatter of the team. It was the day everyone had been waiting for—the “group bonding” beach football game, a mix of competition, camaraderie, and friendly trash talk. The beach was packed with the usual crew, all of them ready for the game, but with an added layer of uncertainty this year. Madeline and Rooster were on opposite teams, and there was no love lost between them.
Madeline stood at the edge of the sand, adjusting her jersey, the fabric clinging to her skin as the breeze picked up, carrying the scent of salt and the sea. She tied it up to show off her abdomen. Hey, when you work this hard for abs of steel, you have the right to show them off, she thought. Suddenly a low whistle was hurled towards her.
“Duchess had I known that’s what you looked like under the uniform, I would’ve tried my hand earlier.” Hangman said, with a cocky grin. Madeline rolled her eyes and subsequently flipped him off.
She tried to focus, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened whenever her eyes wandered to Rooster. The competitive energy was almost tangible, and the atmosphere was charged—electric, like a storm on the horizon.
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Maverick’s voice broke through the buzz of excitement, calling the teams to order. “Rooster, you’re on the left. Madeline, you’re on the right. You know the rules. No holds barred, no mercy. Go hard, or go home.”
Madeline’s gaze locked with Rooster’s as he jogged over to his team, his usual cocky smirk plastered on his face. He gave her a quick look before turning his attention back to his teammates, but she saw it—just a flash of something in his eyes. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was the simmering tension between them, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly raked over her body, and it was just enough to make her heart skip a beat.
As her team gathered around, she tried to shake off the nerves. The last thing she wanted was to show any weakness, especially not now. Not with Rooster so close, and definitely not with Rooster looking that good in his tight jorts.
Maverick blew the whistle, and with that, the game began.
Madeline wasted no time, immediately sprinting forward, the sand giving way beneath her feet as she charged down the field. She could hear the thudding of footsteps behind her—Rooster. She didn’t need to look to know he was already closing in. He was fast, and no one on the field could match his strength. Okay, that was a lie, maybe Hangman, but she would never admit that openly. Rooster was fast, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
The ball came her way, and without hesitation, she snatched it up, pivoting to change direction. She saw Rooster coming at her, a determined look on his face, and in that moment, everything else faded. It was just the two of them—the game, the rivalry, the attraction.
“Not so fast, Madeline,” Rooster called out, his voice low, the challenge clear in his tone.
Madeline pushed herself harder, sprinting for all she was worth, trying to stay one step ahead of him. But Rooster wasn’t going to let her slip away that easily. With a roar, he lunged forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her toward him. She tried to break free, but his grip was ironclad, and for a moment, she was helpless in his grasp.
“You really think you can get past me?” Rooster growled, his breath warm against her ear, sending a jolt of heat through her.
Madeline’s pulse quickened, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Using her agility, she twisted out of his hold, sending him off balance for just a second. It was enough. She broke free, racing past him and toward the end zone.
With a triumphant grin, Madeline crossed the line and scored, punting the ball into the ground, and making it shoot into the air. Behind her, her team erupted in cheers. Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t just from the exertion. She glanced back at Rooster, who was standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and something else. He wasn’t pleased that she’d gotten the better of him, and that look made her smile.
“Nice try, but you’re gonna have to do better than that,” she teased, her voice a little breathless.
Rooster’s eyes narrowed, but the smirk never left his face. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
As the game continued, the competition between them only grew more intense. They weren’t just battling for victory—they were battling each other, pushing and pulling in a contest of wills. Every pass, every block, and every juke had a double meaning. Every time they collided, every time they came close, it was as if the air between them thickened, charged with a kind of magnetic tension neither of them could deny.
On the other side of the field, Phoenix and Hangman were already in the thick of their own back-and-forth, trading playful insults and jabs as they ran.
“You sure you can keep up, Phoenix?” Hangman called out, grinning as he juked past Phoenix, who was pretending to be outraged.
“Watch your mouth, pretty boy. I’m not the one who’s gonna need a chiropractor after this,” Phoenix shot back, her voice dripping with mock indignation.
Madeline couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she heard them bicker, but it was a welcome distraction from the growing tension with Rooster. She took a deep breath, shaking her head and focusing back on the game.
But then, the ball was in her hands again, and she could feel Rooster’s eyes on her, like a predator stalking its prey. This time, he wasn’t just after the ball—he was after her.
With a growl, he lunged, his body crashing into hers with enough force to knock her off balance. Her heart slammed in her chest, and for a brief moment, she was suspended in the air, caught between the physical closeness and the raw energy that had always existed between them. The impact sent them both tumbling into the sand, but neither of them made a move to get up right away.
“Get off me,” Madeline huffed, shoving at his chest, but Rooster didn’t budge. Instead, he stayed on top of her for a beat too long, his weight pressing down on her in a way that sent a flood of heat through her body and made her stomach flip.
“You sure you want me to?” Rooster’s voice was low, teasing, but there was something else there, something more dangerous. His eyes gleamed with that familiar cocky confidence, but there was also something darker, just waiting to seep beneath the surface.
“Absolutely,” Madeline shot back, trying to keep her voice steady, but there was no denying the electricity that crackled throughout her body.
He didn’t move, though. Instead, he leaned down, his breath warm against her neck as he whispered in her ear, “You’re lucky I’m letting you win today, Duchess. But best believe I’ll get you next time.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine, and before she could respond, Rooster was up, extending a hand to pull her to her feet. The connection between them felt like static, buzzing in the air as she accepted his hand, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment.
But then it was over, and they were back in the game, the competition resuming. Madeline didn’t know if it was the heat of the moment or something more, but the way Rooster had looked at her, the way they’d collided, the way her body had reacted—it was impossible to ignore.
The game continued, but with each tackle, each push and pull, it became harder to focus on anything other than the tension between them. The playful banter from her friends continued in the background, but all Madeline could think about was Rooster—how close they were, how their bodies seemed to gravitate toward each other in a way that made her dizzy.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the game came to a close. Both teams were covered in sand, sweat, and exhaustion, but the thrill of the game still lingered in the air. Madeline stood there, her breath heavy, her body sore, but her mind was a whirlwind. She’d won, but that didn’t feel like the most important thing anymore.
Rooster walked up to her, wiping sand from his hands, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter. He wasn’t grinning now, wasn’t being cocky. The tension between them had shifted and deepened.
“Well played,” he said quietly, his voice a little rougher than usual. “You earned that.”
Madeline nodded, but there was something else she wanted to say—something that lingered between them, unspoken. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, she simply nodded again, turning her gaze away as she tried to compose herself. The air was thick with unspoken words, the connection between them undeniable. And as they stood there, face to face, neither of them knew what to do with the electricity that pulsed between them.
For the first time in a long while, Madeline wasn’t sure where the line between rivalry and attraction began—and she wasn’t sure if she even cared anymore.
After a soothing and much-needed shower, Madeline strode into the Hard Deck, the usual hum of chatter and clinking glasses greeting her like an old friend. Her muscles ached from the football game, but the air was lighter now—no mission, no briefing, no competition, just the team. The perfect way to unwind.
Natasha was already at the bar, leaning against it with her usual easy grin. She waved Madeline over as she glanced up from her phone.
"About time," Natasha teased. "I thought you passed out in the shower for a second."
Madeline rolled her eyes, sliding onto the bar stool next to her. "You try rinsing sand out of your thick hair and see how you like it.
Natasha smirked, handing Madeline a beer. She pointed at Rooster from across the bar. "Rooster's got that 'I’m right and you’re wrong' look on his face. Tell me, when you guys got chewed out by Maverick the other day, did he lecture you about teamwork?"
"All day after the fact," Madeline muttered, taking a long pull from the bottle. "I swear, I’m just waiting for him to start quoting the Top Gun manual. 'Stick to the plan, Duchess.'"
The sound of Hangman’s laugh cut through the air. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about my callsign than his lecture. ‘Duchess,’ really? Sounds like a title you’d give a princess—not a fighter pilot."
Madeline didn’t hesitate. He was still on this? She spun around, eyes narrowing as she leaned back on her stool. “Bite me, Seresin. We both know I’m the one with the skills here. Keep talking, and I’ll show you what it’s like when I don’t hold back.”
He grinned, leaning in with exaggerated innocence. "You wouldn't want to embarrass me in front of the team, would you?"
“I’m happy to do it anytime, you idiot,” she shot back, the words flying from her lips before she broke into a small smile.
Hangman was practically vibrating with amusement. "See, Phoenix? I told you she had a fire in her."
Natasha snorted into her drink. "Oh, she’s got more fire than you can handle, trust me."
Bob, sitting a few stools down, looked up with a slight smile. "Madeline, you can totally take him," he said quietly, offering her a thumbs up. "I believe in you."
Madeline gave him a small smile in return. "Thanks, Bob."
She caught Rooster’s gaze from across the bar, his brow furrowed in concentration as he talked to Maverick, but his eyes flicked toward her every so often, and she couldn’t help but notice the tension flaring up again between them—almost like he was waiting for her to say something.
“Don’t think you’re getting off easy, Cage,” Hangman continued, his voice teasing. "I know you’re just upset because I’m better at playing the game than you are."
Madeline bristled. “The only game I’m playing is the one where I don’t have to deal with your smug ass. I’m really close to smacking that smile off your face, Hangman.”
“I mean, I'd love to see you try, Duchess,” he challenged, clearly enjoying this banter a little too much.
As Natasha leaned in to say something more, a booming voice interrupted.
“You two are ridiculous,” Penny said with a laugh, appearing next to Madeline and Natasha. "You know, I was just telling Maverick you could cut the sexual tension between you and Hangman with a knife. It's almost impressive."
Madeline nearly choked on her beer. "What?!"
Penny winked, sliding into the seat beside Madeline. “I’m just saying—you two really do love to spar with each other. It’s like a little dance.”
Madeline stared at her, stunned. "Are you serious right now?"
“Very,” Penny said, grinning. “I can practically feel the fire between you two from across the room. Tell me, when’s the first kiss going to happen?”
“Oh, hell no,” Madeline said, laughing and shaking her head. "We’re just... friends."
“Sure,” Penny said, winking as she lifted her drink to her lips.
Before Madeline could respond, Rooster walked over, clearly done with his conversation with Maverick. "I swear, every time I come over here, it’s like I step into a sitcom." He eyed Hangman, who had already turned back to his drink, unbothered. "What are you two arguing about this time?"
“Nothing,” Madeline said quickly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Nothing important."
Rooster raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. "If it’s about your callsign, I think you should let it go. You chose it. Deal with it."
Madeline shot him a glare that could’ve melted glass. “I don’t need you to remind me, Bradshaw."
A silence settled over the group for a few beats. Hangman was still laughing in the background, Natasha was smirking, and Bob was just... Bob, staring at his drink, looking too sweet to be involved in this mess.
Finally, Rooster broke the tension with a sigh, sitting down next to Madeline. “Alright, enough of this. Let’s just get along for once. No more arguing.”
Madeline shot him an incredulous look. "You just knocked the absolute dog shit out of me earlier, and lectured me all night yesterday in the mess hall about breaking formation, and now you want me to get along with you?"
Rooster leaned back, a playful glint in his eye. "Hey, I’m not the one who went rogue in the middle of a mission."
“I was trying to make it work,” she shot back, a sarcastic smile on her lips. “But I’m clearly not allowed to think outside the box.”
He didn’t respond immediately, only sipping his drink with a faint smirk.
“Can we at least get one round of drinks without threatening to murder each other?” Natasha asked, breaking the tension.
"Yeah," Hangman chimed in from across the bar, "because I’ve got money on Cage getting roped into taking the next round."
Madeline shot him a glare, but before she could retort, Penny stepped in. “How about we all just enjoy the night? On me.” She winked at Madeline.
Madeline snorted. "I’m not sure the bar can handle that many rounds with you footing the bill."
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that comment,” Penny warned, chuckling. “You think Hangman’s bad? Just wait until you see me when I’ve had a few too many.”
Madeline rolled her eyes, but the banter was exactly what she needed. A moment to forget the pressure of being the best, the mission, and, for just a little while, the mending friendship and underlying attraction growing between her and Rooster.
For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe.
“Alright, alright,” Rooster said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m outnumbered here. Let’s drink, then. But—you two are gonna have to take a shot with me. And if you can’t handle it, I’ll be here to watch you make a fool of yourselves.”
“You really are a pain in my ass, Bradshaw,” Madeline muttered, but she couldn’t help but smile. The camaraderie felt good, like old times, even if just for a moment.
As the night stretched on, the tension eased. The Top Gun team was together, and despite everything—the competition, the broken formations, the unspoken words—they were still a team.
And for Madeline, that was all that mattered, even if she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rooster’s eyes lingered on her just a little too long.
a/n : The following chapter is more mission-heavy, but I thought it was necessary!
*Prequel | *Chapter 1 | *Chapter 2 | *Chapter 3
The day had started like any other. The team had been briefed on a critical mission—one that involved getting in and out of enemy territory undetected, a standard operation for most of them. Madeline wasn’t worried. Not yet. She was prepared, focused, and ready for whatever came her way. But that didn’t mean she was complacent.
She climbed into her jet, securing the helmet over her head. Her hands felt steady as she ran through her pre-flight checks, but her mind kept drifting to Rooster. There was an unspoken tension between them now, a weight that had settled in the air ever since yesterday. It wasn’t just rivalry anymore. Something had shifted. But Madeline wasn’t about to let it distract her.
“Alright, Duchess,” Rooster’s voice came over the comms, his tone professional, but there was something different in it today. “Let’s make this clean and quick.”
“Roger that,” Madeline responded, forcing her thoughts back to the mission at hand.
They took off together, their jets slicing through the air, weaving between clouds as they headed into hostile airspace. Their goal was clear: neutralize enemy radar installations and retreat before they could be detected. Simple enough—at least, that was the plan. But things rarely went as planned in this line of work.
The mission started smoothly. Madeline and Rooster worked in tandem, covering each other’s backs, checking in with their wingmen, and handling their respective targets. They were a well-oiled machine, each knowing the other’s moves like the back of their hand. For a brief moment, Madeline felt a sense of pride—this was what she had trained for. This was what she excelled at, this is what she missed.
But then, things started to go wrong.
A sharp warning beep echoed in her cockpit, the display flashing red as the enemy’s SAM sites locked onto her position. She cursed under her breath, her pulse quickening. She had only a few seconds to react before they launched.
“Cage, you’re too close to the zone!” Maverick’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “Get out of there—now!”
Madeline yanked the controls to the right, pulling hard to evade the missile that was rapidly closing in on her. She could feel the G-forces pulling at her body as she maneuvered the jet through tight turns, desperately trying to shake the lock. Her heart raced, her breath coming faster with each second that passed.
“I’ve got a lock on you, Cage,” Rooster’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You need to break off and get back to formation. NOW.”
“I’m fine, Rooster!” she shot back, her voice tight with the strain of the maneuver. “I’m just trying to get this thing off me.”
But as she pulled another evasive maneuver, she saw the missile launch from the enemy site. It was heading straight for her.
Shit.
Her heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in a long while, fear gripped her. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The missile was closing in fast, and she knew she had only seconds to act.
She punched the afterburners, shooting the jet forward with all the speed she could muster, the missile tailing her relentlessly. But the enemy was not backing down—they were locking onto her again. She couldn’t outrun it—not this time.
And then, a blur of motion—a flash of silver in her peripheral vision.
Rooster’s jet appeared, coming from above in a perfect angle. He dove toward her, cutting across her path in a bold, calculated move. Without thinking, Madeline swerved to follow his lead, mirroring his exact movements. The missile that had locked onto her veered away, following the heat signature of Rooster’s jet instead.
The explosion came a fraction of a second later, sending shockwaves through the air. Madeline’s heart skipped in her chest, the roar of the blast vibrating through her cockpit. The danger wasn’t over yet, but Rooster had saved her—and it wasn’t the first time he had done that.
“Madeline,” Maverick’s voice came over the comms again, this time with more authority. “That was a close call. Get back to base now. Mission’s done.”
Madeline’s hands were shaking as she regained control of her jet. She looked over at Rooster, who had pulled up alongside her. His expression was hard to read, but there was no mistaking the tension between them.
“That was too close,” he said, his voice flat.
Madeline nodded, still processing the rush of adrenaline. “I know. Thanks.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed ahead as he guided his jet back toward the base. The rest of the mission was a blur, their objective completed but with far more close calls than anyone had anticipated. The ride back was quiet—too quiet. There was no banter, no usual chatter. Only the sound of the engines and the low hum of the comms.
Back at the debriefing room, Maverick was already waiting for them, arms crossed and a hard look on his face. The rest of the team had gathered, their faces tense with anticipation.
“You two,” Maverick said, pointing to Madeline and Rooster. “What the hell happened out there?”
Madeline bit her lip, ready to answer, but Maverick didn’t give her the chance.
“You were both reckless,” he continued, his voice sharp. “Cage, you took too many risks out there, and Bradshaw, you were all over the place. Do you think you’re invincible?”
Madeline wanted to speak up, to defend herself. But there was no excuse for what had happened. She could see Rooster’s jaw tightening out of the corner of her eye.
“We’ll be more careful next time, sir,” Rooster finally spoke, his voice calm but clipped.
Maverick’s gaze shifted to him. “I hope so. Because if you two don’t learn how to back each other up without endangering the mission, there won’t be a next time.”
The silence that followed was thick with tension, the weight of Maverick’s words settling over the room. Madeline could feel her chest tightening with frustration, but she kept her mouth shut. She had no defense. And neither did Rooster.
Maverick gave them a long look before finally nodding. “You’re dismissed. We’ll talk about this later.”
As they filed out of the room, Madeline couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment. The close call had forced something between them to the surface—something unspoken. Rooster hadn’t just saved her life out there. He had done it because he cared. She didn’t know how to handle that; she didn’t know how to process it.
She glanced at him as they walked down the hallway, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed ahead, his shoulders tense. Madeline’s heart hammered in her chest, the unsaid words hanging in the air between them.
They stopped at the door to the locker room. Rooster turned to face her then, his expression unreadable.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered, his voice low.
Madeline stared at him, the weight of his words and the moment between them sinking in. There was more to say—so much more. But she didn’t know how to say it.
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks.”
And with that, the door to the locker room slammed shut behind them.
The sun hung high over the runway, a constant reminder of the intensity and pressure that had settled over the Top Gun team. The day was hot, the air thick with anticipation, and in the cockpit of their F/A-18, Madeline and Rooster found themselves, once again, paired together for a training exercise. The tension between them had yet to ease, despite the close call from their last mission—a mission that had them doing 200 pushups each.
But today was different. The air felt charged, almost electric, as they prepared for their next test. Their relationship, if it could be called that, was strained, yet their professionalism as pilots was undeniable. They had both earned their places in Top Gun, and there was no room for personal grudges in the skies.
“Alright, Cage, Bradshaw, you two are up first.” Maverick's voice crackled through their headsets, his tone as commanding as ever. "This is a test of precision and teamwork. Don't screw it up."
Madeline caught Rooster's gaze through her helmet's visor as they both slid into their seats in the cockpit. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but no words passed between them. It was as if the unspoken argument and apology that had started the moment they took off in the live-fire exercise still hung between them, unresolved.
The engines roared to life, the sound deafening as they taxied down the runway. Madeline's hands gripped the controls, but it wasn't the plane she was thinking about. It was Rooster—the man who both intrigued and frustrated her beyond measure.
The radio crackled again, this time a voice she knew all too well. “Maverick, we’re ready,” Rooster said, his voice steady, though Madeline could hear the slight edge of frustration.
“Good. Remember, it’s all about teamwork. Communicate; trust each other. You’re flying as one today, not two.”
Madeline didn’t need the reminder. She had been trained to trust her partner in the air, to act as a unit and not as individuals. But there was something about Rooster that made it... hard.
The exercise was simple enough: simulate an air-to-ground strike on a moving target. The targets would appear at random locations in the sky, and they had to work together to neutralize them before time ran out. Simple, right?
But as soon as they took off, things weren’t so simple.
Rooster, typically calm and calculated in the air, seemed... distracted. Madeline could feel it. His movements were slower and less decisive than usual. She tried to shake it off, focusing on her actions as she kept their flight smooth and steady. But it was hard not to notice. Every time she went to make a move, Rooster hesitated.
“Bradshaw, what’s the hold-up?” Madeline asked over the comms, her tone sharp with irritation. She could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on them both.
“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Rooster replied, his voice clipped.
Madeline grated her teeth. “We don’t have time to wait. We have a window, and you’re letting it close.”
“I’m not ‘letting’ anything close,” Rooster shot back. “We don’t rush into things. That’s how people die.”
Madeline’s grip on the controls tightened. “And waiting until the last second is how we miss our chance.”
Before he could respond, Madeline took control, launching them into a dive, cutting through the sky with precision and speed. The target locked onto her screen, and she hit the button to release the simulated missile, watching as the target exploded in a plume of smoke and fire.
She pulled up sharply, her heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Target down,” she said, her voice steady despite the rush of excitement. But as she straightened out the plane, she noticed Rooster’s silence on the comms.
“Bradshaw? You with me?”
Rooster finally spoke, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Yeah, I’m here. Nice shot. But don’t think that was the right move.”
Madeline’s temper flared. “What do you mean, ‘not the right move’? You were holding back. You had a shot at it, and you froze.”
Rooster’s voice came through, low and controlled. “I wasn’t freezing. I was waiting for a better angle. We don’t take risks like that. Not unless it’s necessary.”
Madeline's jaw clenched. “And you think that was unnecessary? We had one shot. You didn’t take it, and I did. Simple as that.”
There was a long pause before Rooster spoke again, his tone cooler now. “I don’t need you to lecture me on tactics, Cage.”
Madeline shot a glance over at him, though his helmet visor shielded most of his face. “Funny, because it seems like I just did.”
Another pause hung between them before Rooster finally sighed, his voice softer but still guarded. “I get it, alright? You’re right. I should’ve acted faster. But we’re not here to make reckless moves. We’re here to win. Together.”
Madeline resisted the urge to respond with something biting. She wasn’t sure why his apology—even if it wasn’t exactly an apology—made her feel more conflicted than anything. But she swallowed the sharp retort, focusing on the next task at hand.
“Fine. Let’s just finish this.”
The rest of the exercise passed in a tense silence, each of them pulling their weight but not saying much. The targets were eliminated efficiently, but the underlying tension never fully dissipated.
The debriefing was quick, Maverick’s voice cutting through the noise of the team gathered in the hangar.
“Good work, Cage and Bradshaw. You got the job done, and that’s what counts,” Maverick said, his tone approving. “But you two need to work on trusting each other more. You’ve got the skills, but you can’t fly solo in a partnership.”
Madeline exchanged a glance with Rooster. He didn’t meet her eyes; his gaze focused on the floor. She wanted to say something—anything—to break the silence, but the words stuck in her throat. There was nothing left to say.
As the team disbanded, the usual chatter filled the air. Hangman, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Natasha were already in their own world, joking and laughing, while Bob lingered off to the side, watching with a smile. But for Madeline and Rooster, the air between them was thick with unresolved tension.
“I’ll see you at the Hard Deck later?" Rooster asked, his voice more of a statement than a question, his tone still slightly guarded.
Madeline looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Sure.”
There was a brief pause as if both of them were weighing their words, but then Rooster turned and walked away without another word.
Madeline watched him go, frustration bubbling under the surface. She wasn’t sure if it was the mission, their conversation, or just the weight of everything they’d been through together, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were teetering on the edge of something—something neither of them wanted to face.
But whatever it was, it wasn’t over yet. And she wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
The smell of jet fuel hit her first—a sharp, biting scent that Madeline found oddly comforting. It reminded her she was where she belonged.
Out on the tarmac, the morning sun reflected off rows of parked jets, their sleek forms gleaming against the pale blue sky. She adjusted her aviators and strode toward the training hangar, her flight suit snug against her body, her name and callsign stitched neatly over her heart: CAGE, DUCHESS.
The name always caught people’s attention.
She hated it at first—thought it sounded pretentious. But Rooster had insisted.
“It suits you,” he’d said with that easy grin of his. “You’re the picture of class and superiority.” Then he’d laughed, adding, “Until you open your mouth.”
That was back when they were friends.
The memory stung more than she cared to admit, so she shoved it aside and pushed open the hangar doors.
Inside, the team was already gathering. Hangman was perched on a stool, leaning back dangerously far as he balanced a pen on his upper lip. Phoenix and Bob stood nearby, deep in conversation, while Rooster leaned against a workbench, arms crossed, as he studied the briefing materials.
The tension from yesterday still lingered between them, thick and heavy.
Madeline’s eyes flicked toward Natasha, who caught her gaze and raised a brow.
“You good?” Natasha mouthed.
Madeline gave her a subtle nod and moved to join the group.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Hangman drawled, tipping his stool forward with a loud clatter. “Duchess, gracing us with her presence.”
“Bite me, Seresin,” she shot back, plucking the pen from his hand and tossing it across the table.
He grinned, unbothered. “Always such a ray of sunshine.”
“You bring it out of me,” she deadpanned, sliding onto the bench beside Natasha.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Natasha murmured, smirking. “You know how much he thrives on attention.”
Hangman gasped dramatically. “Phoenix, I thought we were friends.”
“We’re not,” Natasha replied without missing a beat. Madeline laughed; this was the familiarity she missed, the sense of family.
The group’s easy banter was cut short as Maverick strode in, clipboard in hand.
“Alright, listen up,” he began, his voice commanding immediate attention. “Today’s training is simple: precision and teamwork.”
Madeline glanced sideways at Rooster. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look her way.
“Pilots will be paired off for simulated dogfights,” Maverick continued. “You’ll work on coordination, communication, and adaptability under pressure.”
Her stomach sank as his gaze shifted to her.
“Cage, you’re with Bradshaw.”
Of course.
“Phoenix, you’re with Bob. Hangman, you’re with Coyote solo—try not to leave him in the dust.
Madeline climbed into the cockpit of her jet, the familiar feel of the controls grounding her. Over the comms, Rooster’s voice came through, calm and professional.
“Duchess, you ready?”
Her fingers tightened around the throttle. “Always.”
The F/A-18 roared as Madeline pulled into a sharp turn, sweat dripping down her back as she scanned the skies for her targets. Rooster’s voice came through her comms, calm but firm.
“Duchess, stick to the formation.”
Her eyes locked on a bogey breaking to her right—a clear opportunity. She smirked.
“Formation’s too slow,” she muttered, peeling off to chase it.
“Don’t—”
She didn’t wait to hear the rest. Her instincts screamed at her to move fast, act now, and take the shot. The bogey swerved, but she stayed on its tail, her jet slicing through the air. A moment later, she fired.
Target eliminated.
She grinned—until an alert flashed on her console.
Lock-on detected.
“What the—?”
A second bogey had flanked her blind spot while she’d gone rogue. Before she could react, her jet registered a direct hit.
“Are you kidding me?” Rooster’s voice was sharp, and for once, it wasn’t calm. “Duchess, you left me wide open!”
Her blood boiled. “I took the shot, didn’t I?”
“And lost the mission,” Rooster snapped. “You can’t just—”
“Simulation over,” Maverick’s voice cut through the comms. “Everyone, back to base.”
The flight back was silent, tension hanging like a storm cloud between them.
The group gathered on the tarmac, sweat-soaked and exhausted, as Maverick strode toward them with his signature calm intensity.
“Well,” he began, tossing his helmet onto a nearby bench, “that was entertaining.”
Hangman smirked. “Entertaining? More like a train wreck.”
Maverick raised a hand, silencing the group. His gaze landed on Rooster, then slid to Madeline.
“Bradshaw, Cage,” he said, folding his arms. “Care to explain what happened up there?”
Madeline spoke first. “I saw an opening and took it.”
“And left our six wide open,” Rooster cut in, his tone clipped.
“I made the shot!”
“And got us killed!”
“Enough,” Maverick said, his voice quiet but firm. He looked at Madeline. “This isn’t about making the shot, Cage. It’s about working as a team. If you can’t do that, you’re a liability.”
Her stomach twisted, but she refused to let it show. She straightened her spine, chin held high.
“Understood, sir.”
Maverick nodded, though his disappointment was clear. “As for the penalty…” He gestured toward the ground. “Two hundred pushups. Each.”
Madeline’s jaw dropped. “Two hundred? For a simulation?”
“You can thank Payback for that.” Maverick smiled.
Madeline shot her good friend a sideways glare.
“Now lieutenants," he pointed to the ground, “unless you’d like to make it three hundred,” Maverick said lightly.
Next to her, Rooster dropped to the ground without a word and began.
Madeline muttered a string of curses under her breath before following suit, her arms already burning by the time she hit sixty.
Hangman leaned against a nearby post, watching with a grin. “Oh, this is better than pay-per-view.”
“Shut up, Seresin,” Madeline growled, her voice muffled against the tarmac.
He snickered but backed off, content to let her suffer.
By the time she finished, her arms felt like jelly, and her flight suit clung to her like a second skin. She yanked her helmet off and shoved it into her locker with more force than necessary.
Rooster was already there, his expression unreadable as he wiped the sweat from his face.
“Bradshaw,” she snapped, slamming the locker door shut. That was all he was to her now, Rooster or Bradshaw. Bradley was reserved for friends, which they were no longer.
He glanced at her, one brow raised. “What?”
“You want to explain what that was back there?”
“Me? You’re the one who went rogue!”
“I had a clear shot—”
“And you blew it! Just like always.”
Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “You know why no one wants to fly with you, Duchess? Because you don’t think. You don’t plan. You just act, and it screws everyone else over.”
Her throat tightened, but she refused to look away. “At least I’m not a coward.”
Something flickered in his eyes—something dark and sharp. He took another step closer, towering over her now.
“You think that’s what this is? Courage?” His laugh was cold, cutting. “No, Duchess. You’re just reckless. And the worst part is, you don’t even realize it.”
She clenched her fists, anger bubbling under her skin. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“Don’t I?” He leaned in, his voice soft but biting. “You strut around here like you’re royalty, like you’re untouchable. But guess what? All that lineage, all that legacy? It doesn’t mean a damn thing up there. You’re not a Duchess in the sky—you’re just dead weight.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
Her chest ached, but she refused to let him see it. Instead, she lifted her chin, her voice ice-cold.
“Screw you, Bradshaw.”
She turned and walked away before he could see the tears threatening to spill.
That night, Madeline found herself at The Hard Deck again, nursing a beer and trying to ignore the sting of Rooster’s words.
The bar was lively, full of off-duty pilots and locals, but she couldn’t bring herself to join the noise.
“Hey, you okay?” Natasha slid onto the stool beside her, concern etched on her face.
Madeline forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Uh-huh,” Natasha said, clearly unconvinced. She ordered a drink and turned to face her friend fully. “So, are we talking about it, or are you just going to keep pretending you’re fine?”
Madeline sighed, swirling her beer. “It’s Rooster. He’s… infuriating.”
“Yeah, he has that effect on people.” Natasha paused, then added, “But you’re not exactly innocent, you know.”
Madeline shot her a look.
“I’m serious,” Natasha said. “You’re both stubborn as hell and allergic to teamwork. It’s a miracle you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Anytime,” Natasha said with a grin. Then she sobered. “Look, I get it. You’re trying to prove yourself, and he’s trying to—”
“Prove I don’t belong here?” Madeline finished bitterly.
Natasha shook her head. “No. He’s trying to make sure you don’t crash and burn. He’s just… terrible at saying it.”
Madeline didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could.
Across the bar, Hangman waved at her, motioning for her to join their table. Bob sat beside him, looking awkward but content, while Rooster stared into his drink, his jaw tight.
Madeline hesitated, but Natasha nudged her.
“Come on,” she said. “If you don’t, Hangman will come over here, and we both know none of us want that.”
That earned a small laugh.
“Fine,” Madeline said, sliding off the stool. “But if he makes one snide comment, I’m throwing my drink at him.”
Natasha smirked. “Fair enough.”
As they approached the table, Rooster glanced up, his gaze meeting Madeline’s for a brief, charged moment.
Neither of them spoke, but the tension was palpable.
