#requested imagine

I nodded before turning on my heel and grabbing Maverick's usual drink. I've known Maverick my entire life, and I know his history with my father. That is the only reason why he is allowed to call me something like Junior.

"Here you go, Mav," I said as I put his beer in front of him.

He nodded appreciatively and kept small talk with me for about half an hour. He asked about nursing school and talked about how he was worried I didn't spend more time with friends. After he tried to encourage me to make more friends and have fun, he asked how things were with my dad.

A little while later, we got some new customers that instantly ruined my mood.

"And so it begins," I said under my breath as Maverick's group of trainees walked in. I glanced at Maverick to see him smiling sadly at me.

"You know," he said under his breath, "if they ever bother you, all you have to do is let me know."

"I know," I said with a small chuckle. My smile fell before I added, "I don't want them thinking you're giving me special treatment because of who my dad is."

Maverick reached over and put his hand on mine. "Y/N," he said gently, "the trainees don't know you're Iceman's daughter. Only Rooster and I know."

"Thanks, Uncle Mav." I paused before adding, "Just because I'm relieved that they don't know about him doesn't mean I'm ashamed of him."

"I know that," he said as he pulled his hand away. "I also know why you don't like pilots."

"I like you," I shrugged. "And Rooster and I have been friends our whole lives."

"True," Maverick smirked at me. "But that's different. We know about your past with your father. The other pilots don't."

We couldn't continue our conversation because Maverick's trainees started ordering drinks. Maverick stayed at the bar as the other pilots played pool and darts.

"Can I get another round of beers, Ice Jr?"

"Excuse me?" I stuttered. I glanced over at Maverick before looking back at Coyote.

"I asked for another round of beers," Coyote said with a big smile on his face.

"No, I heard that," I stuttered. "I meant. . . What did you call me?"

I ignored the fact that the other trainees were now paying attention to this conversation.

"Ice Jr," he repeated like it wasn't a big deal.

"Why would you call me that?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"Because," Coyote elongated, "you're Iceman's daughter."

My head snapped toward Maverick, who instantly put his hands up in defense. "I already told you," he worked to soothe, "I haven't told anyone who you are."

I looked and found my next suspect. When I found Rooster, he was scratching the back of his neck.

"I might have mentioned something about it," he forced a chuckle. His smile dropped when he saw the look on my face. "I didn't mean anything by it, Y/N," he said quickly.

I didn't want to hear the rest of his excuse, so I turned on my heel, walked out from behind the bar, and went to Penny's office. It didn't work because I could still hear them.

"Bradley," I heard Maverick sigh.

"What?" He asked. "I didn't. . ."

"Why didn't she want us to know?" Bob asked.

Maverick sighed again before explaining, "Look, Y/N had a difficult relationship with her father."

"What?"

"Difficult how?"

"Iceman wasn't around a lot," Maverick continued. "He missed a lot of important moments in Y/N's life. Eventually, it got too much. But a few years ago, when her dad was diagnosed with throat cancer, they started patching things up."

"Shouldn't that make her love pilots?" Hangman joked.

"It's more complicated than that," Rooster sighed.

"What does that mean?" Bob asked.

"Y/N has a rule," Maverick jumped in.

"What kind of rule?" Phoenix asked.

"After everything she went through with her father," Rooster explained, "and the pain she and her mom went through, Y/N made a rule that she would never date a pilot like her father."

"What?" All of the trainees exclaimed in sync.

"Look," Maverick cut them off, "being the loved one of a Navy pilot isn't easy. Y/N and her mother lived through every mission her father flew. They were constantly worried that he wouldn't come home. Spending your entire life worrying about whether or not someone you love will come home takes its toll on a young girl. Y/N made that rule to protect herself. She swore she'd never put herself through that kind of pain again. As your CO, I'm asking you to respect that."

* * * * *

I didn't see Maverick's Top Gun pilots for a few nights. When they came back, the way they treated me was drastically different than before they knew the truth. None of them said anything, but the pitiful looks and soft smiles gave them away.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Don't call me that," I snapped at Hangman. I sighed before looking up at him. "What do you want to drink, Hangman?"

"You don't have to call me that," he said lightly.

"What do you want to drink, Seresin?"

"Jake," he corrected me with a smirk on his face.

He laughed when I walked away from him and helped another customer. Before walking back to Jake, I grabbed the beer he always ordered.

"Here," I said with no emotion in my voice as I put the beer in front of him.

"You remembered my beer," he said, his tone of voice making me roll my eyes and cross my arms over his chest.

"Not that hard," I mumbled. "You order the same beer every single time."

I unfolded my arms and grabbed the towel. I was about to walk away, but Jake grabbed my hand.

"Y/N," he said, his voice softening. I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. He didn't, so I pulled my hand out of his.

"What, Seresin?" I asked harshly.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm. . ."

"That you're what?" I scoffed, cutting him off. "Are you trying to tell me that you're not like my father?"

"Well, I just. . ."

"I got news for you, Hangman," I said, changing my tone when I used his call sign. "I know all about Iceman and Maverick. I also know all about you, Hangman, and your back-and-forth with Rooster. I have two words for you."

"Oh?" He asked, a little bit of hope coming through.

"No thanks."

Jake Seresin didn't give up. He continued to force small talk whenever they came in for drinks. He even made up excuses to "pop by" in between flying their mission route.

One day, however, he took it to the next level.

I walked out of the bar after my shift, dying to soak in a hot bubble bath. I was halfway to my car before I realized who was waiting for me.

"It's been a long day, Sersin," I warned him. "I'm not in the mood."

"I know what you're doing."

"Oh?" I scoffed. "And what's that?"

"You're purposefully pushing me away because you don't want to put yourself through what you and your mother. . ."

"Stop!" I yelled, cutting him off. I walked over to him and stopped inches from him. When I spoke up, I said each word carefully and slowly so he could understand. "Don't you dare pretend to understand what my mother and I went through. I know you all idolize my father as a pilot, but me? All the Navy has ever done is take my father away from me. So excuse me for not wanting the Navy to take anyone else from me."

I started to walk away, but he spoke up.

"What if the Navy doesn't take them from you?"

I slowly turned back toward him. "You know," I sighed, "you're a lot like Iceman and Maverick back when they flew together. You think you're the best pilot. You've even got a kill under your belt. All impressive in the eyes of the Navy. But to me? All any of that means to me is that you wouldn't hesitate to put the Navy first."

"No, I wouldn't," he said firmly.

"Yeah," I said, not meaning for my voice to break. "You would."

"What if I promised to prove it to you?"

"I can't," I whispered, taking a small step away from him. "I'm sorry, Jake, but I can't set myself up for something that's only going to end in heartbreak."

* * * * *

"Y/N," Penny sighed when I walked into the bar. She jogged over to me and threw her arms around me. "Mav told me about your father. Honey, I'm so sorry."

My father passed away last night, surrounded by his family. When I woke up the next morning, I felt numb.

I slowly pulled out of her arms, but she didn't let me go.

"Honey, you don't have to be here," she whispered, looking softly into my eyes.

"Where else would I be?" I shrugged.

Penny and I opened the bar without saying anything else. A few hours later, Maverick walked in. He instantly came over to me and wrapped his arms around me. Still in his arms, I looked over his shoulder to see Rooster and the other trainees walking in.

"I can't do this with them," I mumbled as I pulled out of Maverick's arms.

"Go home."

Maverick and I turned to see Penny joining us behind the bar.

"Pen. . ."

"It's fine," she cut me off. "Honey, you should be at home with your mother. I can handle things here."

"I can't," I whispered. "There's nothing to do there but sit and. . . feel things."

"Honey," she sighed.

"I don't want to feel things, Pen," I said, hating that my voice broke.

"Okay," she said, studying me. "But," she added quickly, "if you ever need a minute to feel things, then you can use my office."

I didn't need to use her office, although I got close a couple of times when the trainees came up and ordered. They'd look at me with pity in their eyes, but wouldn't say anything. I could tell that each one of them wanted to give me their sympathies, but they held back.

A week later, it seemed like the entire Navy showed up for my father's funeral. Every one of the trainees was dressed in their suits so they could honor my father. I couldn't look at them because whenever I did, it filled my eyes with tears.

At the luncheon after the funeral, I purposefully put space between me and everyone else. I couldn't handle people coming up to me, expressing their own sorrow, and asking if they could do anything for me. They meant well, but I couldn't handle the pity. I was successful for the first hour. Until. . .

"Why are you hiding all the way over here?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Jake walking over to me.

"I can't handle the pitiful looks," I answered honestly. I turned back around and started picking at my nail polish. Jake walked over and sat next to me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I said under my breath. After a few minutes of silence, I added, "I just keep thinking. . ."

"About?" He gently pushed.

"At least I fixed my relationship with my father before he. . ."

I couldn't say it.

I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. When Jake reached over and pulled me so my head was leaning on his shoulder, I didn't stop him.

"At least you fixed your relationship with your father before he died," he finished for me, his voice soft. "Your father was a great man, Y/N."

"I know that," I snapped, jumping out of his embrace. "Why does everyone think just because I hated the fact that the Navy took my father from me, it means I hated him? I never hated my father, Hangman."

My voice broke when I said that last sentence. When Jake heard it, he scooted closer to me, closing the gap between us that I created. He gently grabbed my hands and lowered his voice.

"I never believed, and will never believe, that you hated your father, Y/N."

"I don't," I defended myself, my voice weak.

"I know," he said instantly.

"I have never hated my dad, Jake," my voice broke. "I love him."

Jake pulled me into his chest when the tears started falling. Without wanting to, I sobbed into Jake's chest. He comforted me by gently rubbing my back and running his fingers through my hair.

"I know that you love him," Jake whispered. "I also know that your father loved you. And I know that you are worried another pilot will break your heart. But what if. . ."

"I can't. . ." I stuttered, cutting him off. I pulled out of his arms.

"Y/N," he whispered. "Please let me in."

"I can't," I repeated. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"I'm not asking you to instantly jump into a relationship with me," he said gently.

"Then what are you asking?"

He reached over and gently grabbed my hands. "I'm asking you to let me in just a little. Just enough for you to start to get to know me. And if, after you get to know me, there's any chance that you would want to jump into a relationship with me, just know that I'll catch you."

I finally looked at him to see him looking at me with something in his eyes that made my whole body heat up.

And it scared me.

"I can't tell you when that will be," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"That's okay," he soothed. "I can wait."

"I'm not worth the wait."

He smiled softly at me before saying simply, "I respectfully disagree."

We sat there for a few more beats before I looked away from him. I cleared my throat and pulled at the skirt of my dress before standing up.

"I should get back to my mom."

"Y/N, wait," he said, gently grabbing my wrist and stopping me. I hesitated before looking up at him. "If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call me."

* * * * *

The next two weeks dragged on in a haze. I was numb as I went through my classes. I was numb as I served drinks. I was even numb when Jake continued to try and flirt with me. After the funeral, however, he wasn't as pushy, and he started each interaction by asking how I was doing.

I never answered him honestly, though. I just shrugged and said I was fine. It was clear that he didn't believe me, but he didn't push me. Even Penny noticed that he was trying extra hard to be my friend.

To be honest, it was working. To be more honest, I hated that it was working. I hated that I looked forward to seeing him walk into the Hard Deck. I hated how the nights he didn't show up dragged on and felt empty. I hated that when he did show up, my heart skipped a beat as he sat at the bar. I hated the feeling of disappointment that filled me when he had to leave because of his Navy curfew.

Mostly, I hated that I was starting to trust him.

After my shift dragged on, I got in my car and started driving home. I was halfway there when my car broke down. I got out, opened my trunk, but froze. The longer I stared at my car's engine, the harder it was to stop the tears. With shaky hands and tears in my eyes, I grabbed my phone.

"Hey, Y/N," Jake greeted. The second I heard his voice, a small whimper slipped out of my throat. "What's wrong, Y/N?" He instantly asked, his tone changing.

"My car broke down," I said between small sobs.

"Okay," he said gently, but I cut him off.

"My dad always fixed my car. I can't. . . I don't have him around anymore to come help me."

The second I got that out, my small sob became a big one. Jake let me cry for a little while before speaking up.

"It's okay," he said gently. "Y/N, I can come help you. Do you want me to come help you?"

"Won't you. . . You have a curfew," I stuttered. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"I can talk to Maverick," he instantly fixed. "He'll understand."

I thought about it before whispering, "Okay."

"Okay," Jake repeated. "Y/N, where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"I'm halfway home," I whimpered.

"I'm on my way."

It didn't take long for Jake to find me. I was sitting on the curb when he pulled up. He jumped out of his car and jogged over to me. I stood up and gasped when he pulled me into his arms. It was then that I realized I still had tears streaming down my face.

"Do you want me to take you home?" He whispered.

"No," I whimpered, pulling out of his arms. "I can't. . . I can't go there."

"Why not, Y/N?" He asked gently. I hesitated to tell him why it had been hard to go home the last two weeks.

I sighed before finally admitting, "I don't want to be around all of my memories anymore."

I held my breath as I waited for him to respond. My answer made his expression drop. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering for a second before falling back to his side.

"Well," he said slowly, "we could go to my Navy apartment. Is that okay?"

I thought about his offer. A few months ago, I would've slapped him for offering. But now?

"I'm okay with that."

* * * * *

We drove in silence. The only sound between the two of us was the soft radio. Jake continually looked at me, but I didn't return any of them. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the town go by.

"Thank you," Jake said softly, breaking the silence.

"For what?" I asked without looking at him.

"For trusting me enough to call me," he said, glancing at me. This time, I looked back. "You could've called Maverick or even Rooster. Do you mind me asking why you called me?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I could've called Maverick or Rooster. . . I guess I should've called Maverick or Rooster. I'm sorry, Jake."

"I didn't mean. . ." He stuttered. "Y/N, I'm glad you called me. I wanted you to call me."

"I didn't really think about it," I mumbled. "I just. . . I just called you."

Jake reached over and grabbed my hand, gently intertwining our fingers.

"I'm glad you called me, Y/N," he repeated softly. "Tomorrow, we can send a tow truck to your car and. . ."

I took a shaky breath, making Jake stop talking. He glanced at me and saw the tears in my eyes.

"I'll handle it tomorrow," he whispered.

We were quiet the rest of the way to his Navy apartment. We got out of his car, and I followed him up to his apartment. The minute I walked in, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"You hungry?" He offered as he locked the door behind us.

"No," I said softly.

"Okay," Jake said, studying me. "We could watch a movie."

"I don't know what I want to do," I admitted. Jake walked over and gently grabbed my hands. I looked into his eyes and waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just looked at me.

Finally, he sighed and let go of one of my hands. With the one he was still holding, he gently pulled me over to the couch.

"Tell me about your dad."

"What?" I gasped. "Why would I. . . Why do you want to know about him?"

"Because I think you need to talk about him," he said gently. "It might help you get through all of this."

I studied him, trying to figure out if there was some angle he was trying to hit by talking to me about all of this.

"When I was little," I started to slowly open up, "my dad was my whole world. But after a few too many missed dinners, birthdays, and graduations, I realized he wasn't as stable a world as I needed. I grew up and learned to stop letting people in. . . If that makes sense."

"It does," he nodded.

We ended up spending the next two hours talking about my dad. Jake asked questions about my dad and Maverick back when they were our age. We spent a lot of time talking about that.

Throughout the conversation, I couldn't stop my curiosity rising as to why. When I first met Jake, his 'Hangman' callsign made complete sense to me. But now. . .

"Why are you doing all of this?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Why am I being nice to you?" He asked gently. I nodded. He thought about his answer before saying, "I'm being nice because I want to make sure that you know that you're not alone."

"I know that," I whispered.

"You know that Maverick will always be there for you," he agreed. "You know that Rooster will always be there for you. I want to make sure that you know that I will always be there for you, Y/N. All you got to do is let me in."

"I can't," I said, my voice breaking. "I can't risk letting you in. . . just to lose you."

"You don't know that you're going to lose me," he whispered, scooting closer to me. "You don't know that letting me in is risky."

"You're a pilot, Jake."

"I know," he sighed. He slowly reached up and gently touched my chin. "You're right, Y/N. Letting me in would be risky. But I like to think I'm worth the risk. Please let me be worth the risk for you."

Tension was heavy as Jake slowly leaned in, pressing his lips gently to mine. He didn't push things, and I soon realized it was because he was letting me set our pace. When I realized this, I grabbed his face and deepened the kiss.

Once I set the pace, neither one of us stopped it.

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning in Jake's bed. I rolled over, expecting to see him asleep next to me, but he wasn't. I sat up and was overcome with this horrible feeling. As I sat on his bed with the blanket clutched to my chest, that horrible feeling caused a horrible thought to pop into my head.

Hangman got what he wanted last night.

With tears filling my eyes, I got out of Jake's bed. I struggled to hold the tears back as I collected my clothes that Jake discarded last night. I put them on and pulled my hair back into a messy bun.

I was about to leave his room but froze when I remembered that my car was abandoned halfway between the Hard Deck and my apartment. A rush of embarrassment hit me as I slowly opened his bedroom door.

When I walked out of his bedroom and down the hall, I found Jake in the kitchen. My heart felt like it melted when I saw that he was cooking pancakes.

"You're still here," I stuttered.

"Of course I am," he chuckled with his back to me.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and froze when he saw the expression on my face. He put down the spatula and jogged over to me. When he got to me, he gently grabbed my arms and started rubbing them.

"Did you think I left you?" He asked, lowering his voice. "Just like that?"

"I didn't. . . I thought. . . I woke up, and you were gone," I finally got out. "What was I supposed to think?"

Still holding my arms, Jake leaned in and gently kissed me. He broke the kiss and kept his forehead pressed to mine.

"I meant it last night," he whispered. He leaned back before continuing, "I know letting me in is a risk, but I will always be there for you. No matter what. All I need you to do is break your rule."

He paused as he waited for my response. If I was honest with myself, a part of me wanted to break my rule. But the other part of me saw how many times my mother's heart broke.

"Jake," I whispered his name.

"Please, Y/N," he begged. "Let me in."

"Jake, I. . ."

"Break your rule for me, Y/N. Please," he whispered. "Break your rule, and I promise that it'll be worth the risk."

The look of desperation in his eyes made the wall around my heart weaken.

"If you ever break my heart. . ." I started to threaten. I giggled when he grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine. Our lips moved in sync as we wrapped our arms around each other.

"I won't," he moaned, breaking the kiss. "I swear, Y/N. I will do everything I can to make sure I don't break your heart. Breaking your rule will be worth it."

Part 2

Taglist

@football1921

Duncan oversees her enter the facility, patiently lingering. Y/N enters the bathroom gazing at the slight corner of the facility, her gaze hooking onto the frail leg. Kneeling down, Y/N asks carefully, 'Are you okay?' The woman gargles out a response as footsteps transpire from the same place.

'What the?' before she could finalize, the door barged open as a robust man grabbed Y/N by the throat, slamming her against the tile wall. Y/N seizes her hands on the assaulters' steel grip. She twisted his skin as Duncan instructed her before

'Remember you twist, under, and-' 'And what?! Shit, what did he say next?!'

Her mind raced with no end and no solutions. The man's uninvited hands started to travel up her leg, inching slower to her middle. Squeezing her tights together, she shouted as much as possible, 'Dun-!'

The door opens with a deafening smash. Duncan saw the sight he did not want to see her in. Ever. His love attacked, and he did not see it coming. Her teary eyes pleaded and reached out to him, wanting to be saved.

'Y/N. Close your eyes.'

Obediently shutting her eyes, Y/N saw darkness and heard revenge being delivered. The twist, crack, and stab was heard as the assaulter weak pleads died down with him.

'Open, dove.'

Peeking up, she saw her protector, his hands stretched towards her, offering her help to stand up.

'The girl.' Y/N feebly voiced, looking behind him and noticing the woman slowly stand up and walk out.

'Do you want me to call an ambulance?' she added. The girl turned her head towards them calmly. 'No, no, thank you. F-Fo-for saving me.'

Duncan brings his alert to his dove, and Y/N witnesses his eyes. The warm grey tones disappear, and solely endless deep black has taken over his eyes. From that moment, she knew that he was back in his old ways. And for the first time, Y/N felt her soul shaking.

'Let's go home.' he ordered while they slowly strolled out. Duncan letting the personnel know what happened.

later on

In the cabin, Y/N sat on the couch, observing Duncan tending to her wounds, soothing hands touching her skin, taking each twitch and painful whimper into account.

'Do you want to talk about it?' the question cut the silence of the atmosphere bringing Y/N back into her state she almost forgot. His gaze turns to her, and she feels her soul shake yet again, feeling safe with her protector. Her eyes prickle with tears, and her lips quiver with missing and broken words lost on the tongue, hands reaching for his grasping softly, shaking with the possible future that might have happened if she didn't go the bathroom, remembered all of the things Duncan showed her or if she didn't have…him.

'I went into the bathroom---saw the girl asked if she was okay---and the man jumped out of the stall and grabbed me by the neck and touched my legs…Nearing closer to my…' Y/n hushed words feeling Duncan's grip tighten around the opposite shaky hands.

Duncan watched her clutch at each tear and escaping word she spoke. At the same time, his heart and brain pushed him internally, not checking up on her earlier, not killing the piece of shit on the spot that does those things for fun. Duncan never thought he would have someone to call his family and home as well not having this level of protectiveness drug his veins to the level where he wanted to burn the world for her if she said so.

But for now, he will worship her in the way he knows best. Duncan littered her face with kisses soft as the feathers touch, removing the slaty tears, hearing the whimpers turn into soft hums of satisfaction. 'I will remove all of his traces. He doesn't exist anymore. He can NOT hurt you anymore. I have and will protect you, and I will re-write my wrong for tonight. Will you let me worship like you deserve?' Duncan inquired, seeing how her eyes softened with affection, a smile peaking on her face.

'Yes, please.'

Duncan opens her legs slowly, kneeling in front of her and her core. He begins kissing her inner tights while his hands massage the legs gently enough to hear the hums he wants.

'If you want me to stop-' 'No, no, continue, please. I need you.'

Hearing those words, Duncan desired nothing more than to kiss until the oxygen ran out of his lungs, but he suppressed his needs putting hers in front. His breath tickled her core, twitching at the effect. Nearing close, not losing sight of his pearl, he starts to kiss her soul. The movement is pleasantly slow, slow enough for his dove to relax and intertwine her fingers into his ash-grey hair. Her legs opened more, placing them on his shoulder. His tongue brushed up and down against the folds, the juices cascading down and into his mouth, making his blood run wild. The 4 days shaven bread scratched gently on her tights as whimpers filled his ears.

'Right…there…' she said, grasping his hair tighter.

Duncan continues his actions as his nose presses on her clit, eliciting a suppressed moan. Duncan stops to speak five words.

'Don't suppress your voice, dove.' and starts again.

Y/N moans loudly, not letting the moans and pleasure be suppressed anymore. The wooden walls held the moans and gradually layered more and more in the bedroom. Duncan's nose pressed a bit more, and his tongue played with her folds mixing his saliva and her juices together. The love-filled actions continued while Y/N grasped harder on his hair, tighter and more painful, until there was no grip, and her climax crashed on his lips. Duncan stopped pulling away, massaging with his hands her inner tights, prolonging her stimulation as it died down to the tiniest fraction.

'How are you feeling, darling?' Duncan inquired, hoping he helped in some way.

With Y/n's shallow breath, she happily replied, 'Most definitely better. Thank you, Donut.'

Kissing her tights, he promises 'Always.'

"Mi amor, are you sure you want that shirt?"

I couldn't help but smile at my excited, puppy-like boyfriend, who continued tossing all the outfits he liked at me so that he could go and try them all later. "Of course I'm gonna wear there, Y/N. They're exquisite." He tosses yet another black shirt at me. Bro's got like 12 of those already at home, so I don't really get the obsession.

"Sweetie, that's like the 4th black shirt you're buying today." I sigh, exhausted of being used as his personal assistant, who infact, was on a leave today as he missed his family. "Yeah but this one just feels... different." He mumbles, not wanting to keep it away. "You sure you don't wanna try any other shirt?" I raise my brow at him.

"Nope. I'm good." He smiles. "Woah, this one does look good though-" He then walks over to... Guess what?

ANOTHER BLACK SHIRT!

"You know what? How about I just leave all these shirts over here with, uh, Carlos here, and go do some of my own shopping?" I smile inching closer to a corner. "What are you- that's not a Carlos. That's a mannequin!" He points out, but I already dumped all those clothes by the mannequin's foot, and made a dash for the other section.

"Watch where you're going-" I bump into a random dude's chest, falling back and landing on my ass. "You bumped into me, miss..." The familiar deep voice scoffs. "Noah?" I look up, all my anger disappearing, replaced with astonishment and joy instead. "Holy shit- Y/N L/N, that you?" The man recognizes me too.

"I hope so." I chuckle softly, excited to run into my best friend after so long. "Yooo it really is you!" He chuckles, giving me a high-five, converting it to a hand shake then, just like we used to back in high school. "You look so different." He comments, smiling, looking at me up and down. "A lot more... content with life." He elaborates.

"Oh, trust me, I am." I nod. "You don't look too bad yourself." I smile, having so much to tell him, but not knowing where to start. "I'm so happy to see you!" He chuckles. "As am I!" I say, pulling him into a hug. "I just have so many questions." He pulls apart. "And I have so much to tell you!" I say. "But I just don't know where to begin." We both say in unison, making each other laugh.

We both spoke for a while, joked around, caught up on a lotta things, and even exchanged our numbers and shit, because we lost all means of communication after high-school. "So, what are you doing here, all alone at Versace?" He then asks, knowing that I wasn't exactly the sorts who cared about brands that much.

"Shopping with her boyfriend." A cold voice answers on my behalf. "Pablo Gavira, nice to meet you." He then smiles sweetly at Noah, offering him his hand, and giving it a firm shake. "That's me, by the way." He then elaborates, making me roll my eyes. Here we go again... "Pablito, what a pleasure to see you in yet another black shirt." I sigh.

Pablo just smiles at me, wrapping his arm across my shoulder, pulling me into him. He then places a soft, passionate, greedy kiss on my lips, ensuring that everyone here knew that he was mine, and I was his. I just roll my eyes, but kiss him back, keeping it short and sweet. "Oh, I'm sorry... Did I interrupt something?" He then asks innocently, looking at Noah.

"Oh, not at all. Y/N and I were just catching up." Noah smiles, hella amused at what just happened. "My boyfriend's probably waiting for me, so I gotta get going now..." He then checks his phone. "But hey, I'm still up for that Sunday brunch, L/N." He chuckles softly, walking past me, whispering the words. "You better get that dick, girl." Into my ear before walking away, smiling.

"I'm sorry, what brunch are you talking about?" Pablo asks, somewhat confused, mildly annoyed. "Also, did he just say 'boyfriend'?" He then asks, slowly connecting the dots and realizing what happened. I just burst out laughing at his stupidity. "Oh my god- No way..." He turns bright red out of embarrassment. "Yup." I just nod, still chuckling.

And Jace kept on getting into scrapes with Aemond. The older prince was a skilled fighter, perhaps having to work harder due to his one eye. Some underestimated him, but he had gained the respect of Cregan Stark after disarming him in a training session.

Jace still did not care, and that was why Baela was wiping blood from his brow after Aemond kicked him to the floor after disarming him.

"Oh, Jace!" Rhaena ran into the room, worried for him.

"I am well. Aemond is a prick." Jace assured, wincing as Baela cleaned up the small cut.

"Jace, you do provoke him at times." Baela conceded.

Baela looked at her sister, and Rhaena turned away from her scrutinizing gaze. She knew what she was asking without her having to say a word.

...

Rhaena walked down the long empty corridor of the Keep. She yelped, feeling her arm tugged harshly but was relieved when she fell against a familiar hard and warm chest and looked up at a smug Aemond who tucked her into an alcove, hiding them from view.

"You must stop doing that!" She scolded.

"I cannot resist. For someone who carries a dagger, your reactions are rather slow." Aemond said.

She kissed him gently. For a few moons, they had been in this secretive courtship and whilst they did not want to change so much of their behaviours, she did know Baela knew and therefore wanted to find some way for her love and her big sister to get along.

"Can you please be kinder to Jace?" She asked, and he rolled his eye, "I am not asking you to make complete peace with him, but you are rather brutal in training.

Aemond scoffed, "If he believes that is brutal, I pray he is not called for war, let alone a tourney."

"Baela and I have asked the same for Jace, and when we tell everyone our plans, I wish for as few obstacles as possible." Rhaena asked, "And you love me, do you not?"

"Of course I do." Aemond looked offended that she even questioned his devotion.

"Can you love me more than you hate him?" She asked.

"I love you more than anything." Aemond vowed, and then reluctantly nodded, "I shall try not to maim him."

Rhaena grinned and kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you, my heart." He nodded, giving her a small smile and pressing a quick kiss

"He is not the Velaryon who took my eye. Where is his brother?"

You’ve been on your couch, determined to finish your second playthrough Resident Evil 7: Biohazard. Even though you’ve played the game once through already, you still have issues solving the puzzles and figuring out where key items are. You’ve done both runs guide-free.

It’s been a few hours and you’ve just gotten to the section where you’re running around the ship as Mia Winters as she sees visions of Evelyn, the bioweapon disguised as a little girl she was hired to escort from one place to another. You’re deep into the game, only three hours or so more to go.

It’s close to one in the morning when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You pause the game and get up to answer the door.

A disheveled Charlie Gillespie stands in your doorway, hair and clothes soaked. His eyes are red so you know he’s been drinking. He’s shaking, probably from it being only about fifty degrees outside and raining.

“You’re going to catch a cold, Charlie,” you say. “Come in, before you do.”

Charlie silently walks inside. You shut the door behind him. He’s stumbling around a little bit, more drunk than you thought he was.

Slightly concerned, you ask, “How did you get here? You better not have driven, Gillespie.”

Your closest friend says, “I’m drunk, Y/N. Not dumb. I know not to drink and drive.”

You walk into your bedroom, grabbing a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that Charlie has left at your apartment. You throw them at Charlie and say, “Go change into this while I go make you a cup of coffee. Cream and sugar?”

He nods and walks into the bathroom that’s in the hallway leading to the two bedrooms and the doorway leading into the kitchen. You walk into the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee while Charlie changes.

There are footsteps that comes down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Um,” Charlie’s voice says. “The t-shirt was a little too tight.” You turn and look back at Charlie, who stands shirtless in a pair of black sweatpants that hang a little low on his waist.

“How much have you had to drink, Charlie?” you ask curiously.

Charlie thinks for a second before saying, “Six tequila shots, four Fireball shots, five Jell-O shots, and two Bloody Marys.”

Your eyes widen and you say, “Jesus, Charlie. That’s a lot of strong alcohol.”

He smiles at you and says, “Well, blame Owen and it being his 21st birthday. He wanted to get wasted so I got wasted with him so he wouldn’t be alone in being wasted.”

The cup of coffee is done being brewed and you put sugar and cream in the mug before handing it to Charlie. You walk into the living room, and Charlie follows you like a lost puppy.

“You didn’t need to take that many shots, plus the two Bloody Marys you had,” you tell him, sitting on the couch. “There’s a line when getting drunk, Charlie. You’re way past that line.”

Your best friend says, “You’re not my mom, Y/N. You don’t need to lecture me. I was careful and didn’t drive here even though it’s only a few blocks.”

Charlie sits beside you and you say, “You’re lucky you didn’t drive over here or else I would definitely be lecturing you.”

He laughs and sips his coffee as you begin to play Resident Evil. He watches you play and continues to shiver. You’re in the middle of a massive boss fight, the last boss fight, when Charlie asks, “Can you warm me up?”

“There’s a blanket right before you,” you tell him, practically spamming the trigger button on your PlayStation 4 remote.

After a moment of silence, he says, “I mean you, Y/N. Cuddles, I want cuddles.”

While in the middle of the fight, you say,  “I can’t believe you’re asking for cuddles in a time like this.”

You glance over at Charlie and see a pout on his face. He’s still shaking a bit. You give in pretty much immediately, pausing your game until you’re both comfortable. Your legs are thrown over his lap and your arms are wrapped around Charlie’s neck. His arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him.

When you’ve beaten the game for the second time, you put the controller on the coffee table in front of you. Charlie looks down at you and says, “Thank you for taking care of drunk me. I know I can be a lot to deal with when drunk.”

“Well, I care for you, Charlie,” you tell him. “You’re my best friend.”

Charlie blinks at you and asks, “Have you ever thought of us as maybe being more than friends?

Shocked by his question, you stammer, “I, um, have you?”

He hesitates for a second before he nods. “Sometimes,” he admits. “Like when I’m drunk because that’s the only way I have the courage to tell you how I really feel about you, Y/N.”

You blink at him, shocked that your best friend just pretty much admitted his feelings for you. “Charlie-” you start, but he cuts you off by capturing your lips with his. You gasp, surprised, but you return his affection and lightly kiss him back.

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel a little something for Charlie. You probably always have, but you’ve been too afraid to do anything in fear of ruining your friendship with Charlie.

After a few moments of soft kisses, Charlie pulls back and cups your face in his hands. You meet his hazel eyes as he says, “I love you. Like, I’m in love with you, Y/N. I think I have been for a while.”

“You’re drunk, Charlie,” you tell him. “Tell me when you’re sober.”

Charlie smiles and says, “I’ll just have to tell you in the morning then.”

You teasingly say, “I never said you can stay the night, Charlie.”

With a laugh, Charlie says, “I’m staying. I’ll sleep on the couch but I’m staying because I’m too tired and too drunk to go back to my apartment.”

“Fine,” you say to your best friend. “Stay on the couch. You’re not allowed in my bed. Not yet, anyway.” You wink and get up.

He smiles at you and says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

After leaning down and pressing another soft kiss to his lips, you say, “Goodnight, Charlie.” Charlie watches after you as you walk down the hallway to your bedroom. You close the door and lean against it, a huge smile on your lips.