Can't stop thinking about how Bradley has it bad for Jake who's basically Mav 2.0 and Ice with a thousand yards stare thinking about 'of all the things he could've taken after me it had to be my taste in men???'
Can you imagine Jake - prim, freshly shaved, fatigues pressed just so - getting off a plane after a six month deployment and seeing newly retired Bradley Bradshaw standing there waiting for him looking like this:
Could you imagine how Jake’s brain would completely short circuit to the point he accidentally fumbles his duffel and then trips over it, because his braincells are melting at the sight. How Bradley just smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Jake. Jake’s never seen him with any facial hair but the mustache. He’s a little more filled out now that he’s not training and dieting so rigorously. He knows exactly how he looks, and he knows it’ll make Jake - “lots of people have a thing for the Brawny paper towel guy, it’s not weird” - Seresin go completely feral.
“Well. Hello there handsome. Wanna join me in the restroom? Gotta be quick, though, my husband will be here soon.”
“You’re so dumb-“
“I know I said I’d never call you daddy but I think we might have to circle back with that”
“Stop-“
“Can’t. You fucking evolved and didn’t tell me, give me a minute for my brain to reboot. Holy shit, your biceps-“
“You’re impossible,” he smirks, shakes his head, “I missed you, gorgeous. Welcome home.”
“Yeah thanks now hug me with your massive arms Bradshaw”
Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fe!Reader -> When you're run down and exhausted, Hangman takes care of you.
Disclaimer: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of periods, dislike to (almost) lovers, use of nicknames, not fully proof read.
“You look like hell,”
You glared at Hangman. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“Actually, it’s Lieutenant."
Rather than glare a second time, you rolled your eyes and moved away. You hadn’t meant to come into work at all, but Penny had called. Apparently there was a new rush of tourists so the Hard Deck was packed past the doors.
The only reason you came into work, besides from the fact that Penny needed help, was because you highly doubted people could catch what you had. After all, it was a mixture of restless nights, double shifts for the last two months, and an early period which had kicked the ever-loving shit out of you.
You were exhausted. But you could push through for Penny.
For the next two hours, you served half the drinks you’d usually be able to serve. You’d sneezed three times from cleaning up the pepper pot that you spilled when serving a customer a plate of food. And throughout the entire night, you didn’t once yell at Hangman to keep it down despite several other patrons being a hell of a lot louder than him.
It wasn’t until you dropped a glass that you felt someone interrupt your work.
“Okay, come on.”
You looked around you until you focused on the owner of the hands and the voice. “But-”
Hangman shook his head. “Coyote’s gonna deal with it. Come on, I’m taking you home.”
He pushed you gently towards the end of the bar. If your bones weren’t so tired, you would have fought harder to stay.
“But Penny needs my help.”
“The guys can help. I know for a fact at least three of them worked in a bar in College.”
“Hangman-”
As he guided you through the rowdy crowds and towards the back exit, he leaned down so you could hear him. You could also feel his lips gently touching the shell of your ear.
“So help me God, Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. “If you say you’re fine, I’ll carry you out of this bar. Kicking and screaming, if I have to.”
You swallowed thickly, glad the bar was stuffy. The heat crawling up your neck could be explained away.
Pushing the door open for you, Hangman stuck close by your side. And when you fished your car keys from your bag, he took them from you.
“Hey-”
“I’m driving.”
“What- no. Hangman-”
Once more his hand guided you until you found yourself in the passenger seat of your own car with Hangman by the door.
“Jake-” You stopped the door with your hand before he could close it. But all he did was lean on the frame and cock a hip. “You don’t have-”
“You’re run down.” Jake said, plainly. “You’re exhausted. I’ve been watching you all night. You need a break. And I’m driving you home, end of discussion.”
Jake closed your door and rounded to the driver’s seat before starting up the engine and putting his seatbelt on.
Meanwhile, you just stared at him. Even more so when he stared back, one fist braced over the steering wheel.
“Safety first, sweetheart.”
It took you a second before you looked away from him and put your seatbelt on. And once you did, Jake smiled at you and drove out of the parking lot.
“What about your car?”
“Coyote drove.”
You just nodded before turning to look out of the window. Fifteen minutes into the drive, Jake asked you if you’d had dinner. That, too, took you a moment to figure out. And when you finally shook your head, you felt the car turn.
Two minutes later, Jake locked you in your own car and ran into the store. You were half way through the second track of your playlist when he came back carrying two grocery bags.
Despite your home being another fifteen minutes away from the grocery store, it was long enough for the soft hum of the car engine to rock you to sleep.
Waking up, you turned over and tried to fall back to sleep. Until it struck you that you were no longer in a car. You’d fallen asleep in the car, right? Or had that been a dream?
Peeling open your eyes, you recognised where you were.
Your spare bedroom.
The blinds were half drawn, the window was letting in a cool morning breeze that smelled of sea air, and you were in your spare bedroom.
Sitting up carefully, you looked around you and then at yourself in the vanity mirror across from the bed. Your hair was a mess, your face was a little less puffy compared to before you went to work yesterday, but you were still in the clothes you’d worn for work.
So…definietly not a dream.
It came back to you in quick waves. The pepper, the glass, Hangman, the grocery store then…nothing.
Had Jake carried you to bed?
Finding enough energy to pull yourself from your bed, you headed downstairs. The house was mostly quiet, save for the soft scratches of radio static and someone humming along to the slow summer eighties classic.
Where you usually found a quiet kitchen, you found Hangman. Jake. Cooking at your stove, dressed in fresh clothes – he’d gone home, clearly. But he’d also come back?
And he was humming.
In a world of his own.
You had to admit. Of all the domestic things you imagined Hangman doing – not that you ever really did – you did not imagine him humming along to the radio and cooking.
“Morning.”
Jake looked over his shoulder quickly as he heard your voice. Then he smiled. “Morning. Breakfast is almost ready. How’d you sleep?”
You didn’t know whether to walk closer to stay where you were. Would moving break the image in front of you?
“Good,” you said. “Still tired, though.”
“You’ve been working double shifts for two months. You’re gonna be.”
“Did you…last night. Did you carry me to bed? Because I don’t remember-”
Jake nodded as he plated up some homemade hashbrowns, eggs, sausages and bacon. “Yeah. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Well…” You didn’t really know what to say. You’d never been carried to bed. Well, not past the age of seven. “Thank you.”
Jake smiled at you before laying the plate on the dinner table. “Here, eat up.”
You still didn’t move. And then he chuckled.
“Come on, Sweetheart. I don’t bite.”
Finally shuffling inside, you took a seat at the table with a small thank you. Jake nodded and turned to plate up his own breakfast before joining you. And, for the most part, you both sat in silence letting the radio fill the gap.
It shocked you how relaxing the morning was. You hadn’t had one of them in a long time, and you certainly never figured you’d have a relaxing morning with Jake Seresin of all people.
A lot of people got on your nerves, but him more than most. You knew he was a good guy, but he still had his moments, more often than not, of being an asshole.
“I noticed you’ve got some shelves that need putting up. I could do that for you.”
Halfway through your breakfast, you looked at him.
“I’ve got nothing on today, and- please don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Always a good start.”
He smiled, “You look like you could use the help.”
You swallowed your food. “How did you know I have shelves to put up?”
“Saw them in your room. I was gonna lay you down until I saw the blood stain. They’re in the dryer by the way.”
“You…you changed my sheets?”
Jake shrugged. “Relax. I’ve got a sister and I’ve had a girlfriend before. I’m also a grown man. It’s no big deal.”
You just stared at him as he continued to eat his breakfast as if he didn’t just shatter your world view on him. And a lot of men- well, boys – you’d dated over the years.
“Right, uh, yeah. Well…” You were fumbling for words as you looked back down to your plate. “Thanks. And, uh…yeah. I-I could use some help…with the shelves.”
Jake nodded in agreement. “I’ve got some tools in my truck.”
Forty minutes after breakfast where Jake washed up and you dried – despite the fact he tried to push you out of the kitchen three times, with the orders to go and relax – you were sitting cross-legged on your bed reading the instructions as Jake was looking over all the pieces he’d laid out with military precision.
“So, what are you planning to put on these shelves?”
“Books.”
He smiled, “Should have known.”
“By the way, if Natasha asks, I got rid of forty five books from the collection.”
Jake gave a whistle. “Forty five?”
You nodded. But he could see the guilty look behind your eyes.
“Where are they really?”
“In the basement.”
He gave a laugh and you smiled. “I can’t bear to part with them.”
Jake shook his head as he began screwing things together. “Don’t have to explain yourself to me, Sweetheart. I get it.”
The way he said it told you there was more to his story. He wasn’t saying it just to join in the conversation.
“Back when I was at college, I was staying with my grandparents. They lived closer to campus and I didn’t have to pay a fortune to live in the dorms. Anyway, one summer I’m helping them clean out the attic and I come across an old trunk. You know, the kind you see in those old British films.”
You nodded. You were pretty sure you owned one.
“Anyway, inside were all these books. Romance, mystery, action, western. Everything. The first one I picked up, it had been purely out of boredom but…I was hooked. That summer I got through most of them and once they opened a second hand bookstore in town, there was no stopping me.”
You chuckled softly, watching Jake and listening to him talk about his love for reading. The amount of books he owned, the amount of books he secretly owned.
“So, kinda long-story-short, your secret is safe with me, Sweetheart.”
You smiled. “Thank you.”
Ten minutes later, and without once checking the instruction manual, Jake had your shelves built and secured to the wall. And there wasn’t a piece missing.
“What do you think?”
You blinked, “Wow.”
Once again, you were shocked with the domestic-ness of Hangman. He’d built you your shelves and had them secured in record time.
It had taken you six months to convince your ex just to help you lay down renter’s tiles in your shared apartment.
“Like ‘em?”
You nodded. “Thank you.”
Jake shrugged and surveyed his work alongside you. “Happy to help.”
Throughout the day, more and more things began to shatter your mental understanding of Hangman. He hummed when he cooked, he can cook, he can build and not complain, he’s helpful as well as resourceful.
The old slats of wood which had been from the shelves you’d torn down a few weeks ago were now acting as a brand-new planter on your kitchen window sill.
And above all…
He was kind.
Yes, he could be an asshole. Mostly an affectionate one, but still an ass nonetheless.
But he was also kind.
Thoughtful.
And he totally carried the Acts of Service gene in his blood.
“I’m sorry,” you told him over dinner.
“For what?”
“I misjudged you. I thought-”
“I was an asshole?”
You nodded.
Jake just smiled and shrugged. “Never gave you a reason not to think so.”
“Well, you have now. More than one, in fact.”
He smiled at you once more, and for the first time that night, he was the first one to look away. “So,” he tried to hide his smile. “What do you wanna watch?”
“You’re staying?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you relax. Unless…you don’t want me to?”
You quickly shook your head. “No. I-I want you to stay.”
He smiled. “Okay then.”
And just like that, he stayed.
He stayed by your side on the sofa when you both finally agreed on a movie.
He stayed by your side when you both made up the beds.
He stayed by your side when you both got ready for bed.
And he stayed by your side when you woke three hours later, padded down the hall and climbed in beside him.
He’d opened up the blanket for you, covered you back up and slid you across the sheets with his arm, bracing you against his chest.
“Go to sleep, Sweetheart.” Jake’s voice mumbled by your ear.
That was the last thing you heard before you settled against him and closed your eyes.
Iceman in the Admirals meeting: Maverick is reckless, dangerous, and unsuited to command a squadron. Unfortunately, he is too highly decorated to kick out without a good reason. If he's determined to remain in the Navy, perhaps it would be best to place him in a test pilot position and keep him out of our way.
Iceman texting Maverick later: hey so I got you your dream job
y'know what's one thing that I don't think I've seen anyone mention?
Rooster has a confirmed air to air kill as well.
Technically, "air-to-air kill" is the act of one aircraft shooting down an enemy aircraft, typically with a missile or cannon.
Rooster saved Mav's life by shooting down the chopper that was about to shoot him.
You can see the pilot when Mav is staring at the helicopter. Plus there isn't actually any windows or doors on a drone powered helicopter, so the fact that there was on the one aiming at Maverick indicates that it was, in fact, a human flown aircraft.
Which means that when Rooster shot down that aircraft, it should count as an air to air kill.
I've kinda always wanted to write a fic where he struggles with the fall out of it, of how he would feel considering it's not a common thing for pilots, even fighter pilots.
Anyway, enough Saturday rants. (new fic in about an hour)
Edit: Okay so a few people have said they've either mentioned it or talked about in a fic, plus a friend sent me a fic that touched on it as well. I have not read all the hangster fics (there's like 5k, that's a lot lol) and I've only been in this fandom space since May???? of this year, so yeah, just in case anyone thought I was being dismissive or rude, I swear I just didn't know lol
i am here today to write an extremely unorganised, chaotic thesis in which i argue that tg:m is an operational nightmare and crisis of middle management. please. this is deserving of at least one note on tumblr dot com. have pity on me. i have worked in corporate for so long and this is what i have to show for it.
the legacy employee protected by upper management
it does not take a genius to work out that maverick is the most liability-prone, chaotic and insubordinate employee. not only is he disobeying direct orders, crashing billion dollar equipment and breaking the hard deck, he's also got enduring and seemingly unresolvable beef with at least one junior employee that he's supposed to be supervising. more than one person is actively trying to fire him at any given time, however, due to protection from upper management, he is literally impossible to terminate. it wouldn't be a stretch to say he is creating immense liability for the US navy at all times. my hat goes off to him.
2. the entire plot revolves around employee performance management, and no one is doing it well
imagine if The Mission was a job advertisement. you've got a fast-paced environment (chaotic, rushed timelines) where you have to hit the ground running (insufficient preparation, you need to know everything immediately if not sooner). you will be required to wear multiple hats (in the case of cyclone this means managing maverick - a full time job - AND the entirety of the mission. in the case of everyone else, this means trying to learn while rooster insists on fighting with the instructor at every given moment), with flexible bandwith (again, you must take on the emotional toll of an ongoing hr crisis while trying to perform a deadly task). this team must meet strict operational targets under a very tight timeline AND the girls are fighting. wow.
3. the reassignment of problematic employees
back to maverick. you've got upper management forcing him into a specialised learning and development role which he is not super enthusiastic about, nor does he have extensive training in. you now have a liability prone employee (in some respects. pls. i know maverick is MAVERICK. i'm just saying...from a middle management perspective) mentoring overconfident junior employees. what could go wrong?
4. middle management is completely disempowered
cyclone is carrying almost 100% of the operational risk for the expected deliverable. he's literally in charge. he has a duty of care. he's SUPPOSED to call the shots. but at every turn!!! even IN THE MISSION ITSELF!!!! nobody listens to him (lmao). in this respect, middle management is completely disempowered by corporate machinations. every time cyclone goes to enforce a standard or try to effectively terminate maverick for gross insubordination, he is somehow foiled. surprised he didn't write up a PIP and call it a day.
5. hr crisis management as a necessary function of maverick's responsibilities
i dare say at every stage (onboarding, relationship management, deliverable), maverick is an HR disaster. to his credit, he does attempt structured training and shows flexibility in team building, but he also creates a hostile work environment and evidently (albeit mostly unintentionally) triggers distress in his junior employee (rooster). this is also displayed when rooster follows his advice (don't think, just do) and is rewarded with physical pushback (im JOKING).
6. poor attempts at change management
i just think they could have done the whole "maverick is gone these are your new mission parameters" a little smoother, AND the "oh wait, he's actually your team leader now" a little better. i wouldn't blame the daggers for being severely confused. once again, this does undermine middle management in front of the entire junior workforce, however i gotta lay the blame at beau's feet for this one.
anyway guys!!!! i hope you enjoyed my synopsis of tg:m - navy propoganda or hr crisis? you be the judge!
(PS. DON'T THINK THIS IS A MAVERICK HATE POST IM JUST BEING SILLY PLS)
Jake's face when he hears "dagger two (aka bradley/rooster) is hit" is exactly the face those soldier's wives have in movies when they get a letter or a another soldier show up on their porch to tell them their husband was killed in action
