#professor hangman

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.4 | Bradley Bradshaw

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Moodboard

In the middle of nowhere with no power, the world you knew back home feels further away than ever.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, making out.

…

“Mm, che pioverá.” Teodora had sighed, early that morning, while sitting at the breakfast table with Bradley and Pasquale, her son, and her daughter-in-law surrounding her. The three of them had paused eating to look up at the beaming sun, the still trees and the cloudless sky.

Sweat was already beading at the back of Bradley’s neck as he chewed at a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Sandro had brushed her off with a simple shake of his head and an affectionate eye roll. Bradley had flashed an amused smile between the two of them and swallowed down his bite. Pasquale had hummed a thoughtful, but not necessarily agreeing sound.

The three of them already had plans for the day to drive out and take a look at the spinitrae at the university an hour away, after Bradley’s morning run, Pasquale’s phone call home and Sandro’s morning swim.

As usual around here, Teodora was right.

You’re woken by the first rumble of thunder. Face down, your arms wrapped securely around the pillow, Bradley’s blue shirt wrapped securely around your body. Only thirty minutes after the two of them had so briskly dismissed the old woman’s claims.

Already since then, the landscape has transformed. The skies are thick with dark clouds and the wind whips at the trees, knocking fruit to the ground with ease.

With Bradley supposedly gone for the day, you had figured that things around here would be a bit of a free for all. Zoe had suggested digging through the Gabris’ VHS collection in search of a movie in English while you go through pages of Ovid. Nothing to get up particularly early for.

The thunder makes you lift your head and frown a bit. It’s not like you have been really keeping up with the weather forecast, but yesterday’s clear skies hadn’t exactly alerted you to an oncoming storm. It’s barely rained at all since you got here.

Stretching your legs across cool sheets, you sigh and roll onto your back. It’s not cold, per se, but once you’ve strayed from the warmth of your sleeping position your skin starts to prickle with chill.

Your engagement ring stares back at you from its discarded spot on the dresser by the window. This place isn’t like a hotel, Malcolm wouldn’t have a clue which numbers to punch to reach you all the way out here. He wouldn’t even know which province you’re in. You might as well be on a different planet.

It kind of feels like you are.

The point of closing the window is what drives you out of bed first of all. You pad along the floor and turn to the window, all blackened skies and pouring rain for miles around.

Then, a figure by the trees catches your eye. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, that defined line running down the middle of his chest — you recognise him right away.

Bradley is soaked from the rain, wearing a pair of blue running shorts. Caught in the middle of the downpour, he jogs back along the path as rain beats down his back.

Your fingertips push back the edge of the curtain as your shoulder leans up against the window frame. The Gabris estate really is beautiful, miles of stretching, rolling fields and hills with dustings of green forests at its edge..

Those blue shorts sit low on his waist and they’re still exposing so much of his long, muscled legs. His chest is wet, and that cross necklace of his bounces against his collarbones with each footfall.

Maybe he feels the eyes on him, or maybe he catches you in his peripheral — either way, his gaze flickers up to the window and he catches sight of you. Catches you smiling at him.

Through the rain-splattered window pane, he spots his shirt wrapped around your shoulders, just a few of the buttons fastened. Your skin peeking through the gaps between the open buttons. Even with his run cut short, his mouth grows dry all of a sudden.

He lifts a soaked palm and cards it through his hair as he slows to a stop, attempting to tame his drenched curls. From outside, it’s hard to really tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you, especially under the cover of the rain.

You lift your hand from your side and wave your fingers at him.

The rest of the group might be up, they might not. Not a single one of them would know yet that Bradley’s trip to the university has been canceled, they wouldn’t be looking for him. Not in your room, especially.

He stands there for a second and lets himself fall into the fantasy. Walking up those stairs and clicking that heavy wooden door shut behind him. Working open the buttons on that shirt, coming to realize that you aren’t wearing anything under it.

You’re driving him crazy, and he savors every second of it. He can’t stand and stare for too long, he can already feel all of his attention rushing south. He swallows. Then, he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and blinks the rain from his eyes, shaking his head.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and tug at it and shit— that really doesn’t help his problem at all. His mouth ghosts at a smile as he reminds himself to move.

His attention is back on the path ahead as he resumes his jog back to the house. Thunder rumbles in the air.

You’re free to resume your staring. You wonder if he’s even wearing underwear under those tiny shorts— doesn’t look like it.

The thought makes your cheeks hot. His perpetually warm hands soothing your chilled thighs, brushing so coolly under the cotton of his shirt, reclaiming it as he unfastens the buttons, and your mouth on his chest, the salt from his skin— his shoes on the stairs snap you out of it.

The villa is old and the stairs creak at every opportunity. He’s skipping steps, his long strides make that easy and you hear him pause at the top. His room is to the right. Yours is just a bit to the left. You swallow, holding your breath to listen out.

His footsteps fall to the right. One, two, three steps and you hear his door open and close. A dejected sigh pushes past your lips as you lean back into the wall.

He’s wet, and probably sweaty from his run. He always showers before everyone else, too. Your towel is hanging on the hook behind the door. You cross the room briskly and grab it on the way out, crossing into the hallway as he steps back out of his room, also holding his towel.

You’re two steps closer to the bathroom than he is. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, then at his shirt hanging partially open across your chest. Finally, he meets your gaze and smiles a bit.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” You copy back, turning on your heel and crossing the hall to the bathroom. He watches your hand settle on the door knob. He catches the purposeful way you glance back at him over your shoulder, and catches on.

He thought about going into your room. He really did. With everything you have learned in the past few days, he has been trying to give you space — he figured the last thing you would want would be him getting handsy.

With the way you’re looking at him now, he’s not so sure.

He checks the hallway. Still empty. With Sandro out swimming, Pasquale yapping away in the kitchen, and Dorie painting out in the sun room, it’s like you’re alone.

He starts towards you, slowly.

“I like your shirt.”

You glance downward. This was bold. It wasn’t exactly well thought-out, rushing into the hallway barely dressed. He’s still barely dressed. His hair and his skin are still wet from the rain. He still looks warm.

“Thanks.” You answer him softly, as he comes to stand before you. He reaches out and finds your skin with his fingertips, gently stroking a pattern against your thigh.

“You about to shower?” Bradley asks you, close enough that his stomach is just about brushing yours. Your mouth is dry, and you forgot to close the window when you got out of bed. You shiver. Finally, when you remember you’ve been asked a question, you nod at him.

He hums, “Weird. Me too.”

Your eyes widen, somewhere between shock and excitement. Then, there’s a sudden cold feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s like a physical force pushing you back. Your mother, maybe, trying to push you in the right direction from across the Atlantic.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, or more pressingly, what’s gotten into you. He had given you his shirt as a kind gesture, and here you are, using it against him in such a cruel, cruel way.

As his mind crosses over into the territory of saying fuck it and suggesting that he take you right here in the hallway, your gaze meets his firmly and your fingers twist the doorknob.

He swallows, feeling the nylon of his shorts grow tighter at the semblance of an invitation. The bathroom door creeps open, and you glance towards it.

He shouldn’t. Your head is all over the place. Keeping his hands to himself is the right move.

“Ladies first, I’ll wait.” He tells you, shooting you a quick wink.

That’s a no. It’s a kind way of saying no, but it’s a no nonetheless. He doesn’t want to. A quick glance downward proves to you that he's half hard in those running shorts.

“No need.” You whisper, hoping to god that was the right thing to say. The two of you can’t possibly keep whispering out in the hallway, half dressed like this. He doesn’t answer, he just blinks at you.

You swallow a breath and hold it, stepping past him and into the bathroom. The door remains loudly open behind you, like it’s a car-alarm going off right in Bradley’s ear, actually.

He inhales and steps inside, shutting the door behind him. The alarm stops.

“Stop. Look at me,” Somehow now, he feels the need to be quieter than before, and not just because this old bathroom echoes. You fidget, bare feet on cold tile as you stand before him. His brows knit together a bit. “Are you sure about this?”

You purse your lips for a moment and look down at yourself. Honesty is the best policy. You just have to figure out why you’re here yourself.

“It’s just showering.” You say it confidently, like you aren’t even trying to convince yourself. It surprises him. “Doesn’t have to be… sexual. It’s just two people in the shower. Together.”

“Right. Naked.” He reminds you.

“Right.” You copy back, hoping you sound more certain than you feel.

“And you’re cool with that?” He checks. The way he raises his eyebrows tells you that he expects you not to be. In the same breath, you catch the way his eyes flicker to the shower head behind the two of you.

You, him. Naked. You have toed that line before. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad at all actually, it was incredible.

“Yeah.” Your sudden why-wouldn’t-it-be attitude has Bradley prickling with suspicion about your motives this morning, and the morality in being in here with you when he’s certain that your head isn’t quite clear about what happened with your fiancé.

But, he reaches to his right, and bolts the lock across the door. His eyes study your face, and his fingers linger for a moment against the brass. Upholding your unspoken role in this, you twist away from him and turn on the water.

So, we’re doing this. Bradley holds onto that breath, not quite ready to let the thought pass or the exhale follow, as he drops his towel to rest against the sink basin.

You’re bent at the waist, calculating the measure of hot and cold water between the two taps, and Bradley is met with an unobstructed view of your legs. In the vein of following your impulses this morning, he considers sinking to his knees and letting his mouth greet them — but he doesn’t. He half considers tucking his hands behind his back just to remove the temptation at all.

He thinks back to that movie he saw last November, with Anthony Michael Hall and the other kids. In particular, the shower scene where too inept teenage boys stand awkwardly in the back of a shower cubicle, not knowing what to do with their hands, while a beautiful woman showers in front of them.

And then you turn to look at him again.

“You first.”

“Me…? — right,” Clothes. You’re talking about clothes. With his running shoes, he probably has more articles of clothing on than you do. Depends if you’re wearing underwear, he guesses. He isn’t. He kicks off the shoes and goes for his socks next, warm condensation starts to permeate the space between the two of you. Strange, this room feels awfully cramped already, he doesn’t know where the steam finds the space to join. “You just going to stand and watch?”

With his socks gone, he only has one article of clothing left. He hooks a thumb into the waistband of those blue nylon shorts and pushes just an inch, revealing a soft tan line and a sharp V following the shape of his hip.

Stiffly, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. His pulse quickens, watching you watch him.

“Can I?” Bradley asks finally, rushing it out at once. He gestures to the one button left fastened, sitting above your navel.

If this was anyone else, Bradley would probably already be in the shower by now. This pace is unfamiliar, and foreign for him. He’s not quite sure where to tread.

You give him a little nod.

He takes one step forwards and pinches the button between his index and thumb, popping it open as his other hand fits securely against the small of your back and pushes you into him. There’s a second of observation as your bare stomach comes flush against his, where his eyes won’t leave your face for fear of missing some kind of a sign.

Being undressed by him as steam clouds the room, him doing absolutely nothing to hide the darkened look in his eyes. You weren’t fooling anyone by pretending that this could have been something innocent. You might as well accept it for what it is.

As his fingers dip under the material covering each of your shoulders and guide it back, off of your arms, you stretch up and kiss his mouth softly. Experimentally. He shuts his eyes and waits. Your second kiss is firmer, and your fingers reach for the nape of his neck.

He follows suit, relieved finally that he has some kind of sign about how you’re feeling about this. His hand hugs the nape of your neck, his nose bumping your cheek, his tongue swiping across your lip.

‘I like you, you know?’ Your words from yesterday afternoon have been playing in his mind all night. He’s an idiot for not saying more, he just hadn’t wanted to push his luck.

“Come on, we can’t be in here all morning.” He remembers, against your mouth.

“Right.” You sigh, eyes closed as you lean in for another kiss.

With your back to him, you drop your underwear to the ground with his shirt as he steps out of his shorts. You step into the tub first, falling under the safety of the warm spray. He steps in behind you, his fingers finding your waist.

You’re naked. Completely naked, and so is he. With your back to him, he can’t really see you, and you’ve no way of seeing him. The thought of turning around makes your chest feel tight.

He hasn’t ever had to feel so calculated about this before. Is he an appropriate distance away? — well, nothing about this is appropriate, but is he making it worse? — Are you waiting for him to make a move or do you want him to keep his hands to himself?

“I thought you were going to the university today.” You say to the wall of tile in front of you.

“Yeah. Weather took a turn, the road through town floods when it rains like this, apparently.” Bradley answers you.

The only parts of him that are touching you are his fingers. Experimentally, you lean your head back and as expected, it falls to rest against his shoulder. It just looks like you’re rinsing your hair.

His fingers stray from your hip and unfurl across your bare stomach, as he drops his head to press a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. That’s safe enough.

Heart racing, you lift your arms and pull your hair back, saturating it under the stream of water. As you stretch up to do so, your back curves away from him and your ass grazes his thigh.

He swallows thickly. Looking down, he knows you feel the way his half-hard package is pressing into the back of your hip. He turns his face toward your neck, kissing softly.

In a last ditch effort to regulate your breathing before he offers you a nebulizer, you screw your eyes shut. In the dark, you feel his heartbeat against your back, his warm fingers smoothing along your middle, his lips on your throat, and his erection behind you.

“God.”

His mouth stills against your neck. The tickle of his mustache alerts you to the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You alright?” He’s referring to the way you had audibly whimpered inches from his ear, in this extremely tight enclosed space, of course.

“Mhm.” You squeak.

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against the crook of your jaw. “You’re shaking.”

You swallow. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not.” He reminds you.

Screwing your eyes shut once again, you “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, he tucks two fingers around the hair at the nape of your neck and guides it away from your shoulders. With your eyes closed, you feel his breath on your neck first. It’s cooler than the steam from the shower and it hits exactly the right spot between your collar and jaw to make you shiver.

He takes hold of your bicep and turns you steadily towards him, biting at his lip as he finds you just opening your eyes. He knows that if you look too long, you’ll panic. He presses swiftly forwards, his bare chest flush against yours as his open mouth closes around your pulse point.

Mm. The sound slips from your mouth before he is even done with the first kiss, while his fingers are still stretching around your hip and while his tongue is just softly greeting your warm skin.

For a man who, less than three days ago, was adamantly telling you in the streets of Florence that sleeping together would be a bad idea, Bradley sure does seem to be okay with all of this.

He’s okay with it. Too comfortable with it, really. He’s still holding back. If he wasn’t, he would flatten his palm against your ass and pull you against him, and let you feel exactly how comfortable with it he really is.

Instead, he focuses his attention on his mouth. Flowing opposite to the droplets of water, he sucks softly at the tender skin, trailing towards your jaw.

Each time his lips close around a new inch of skin, there’s an urging ebb that prods at you like electricity, buzzing within you and leaving you powerless. His frame towers before you; you know he would catch you if your knees actually did give out but you’d rather die than live through the embarrassment.

Like he shares the same sentiment of keeping you on your feet, Bradley’s hands flex around your waist, curling tighter around your soft skin. He pulls back, sweeping a hand through his wet curls as he studies your face.

He’s getting better at this, reading you.

His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze slips downwards. He’s dead quiet, drinking you in, studying your naked body.

The water droplets seem to have it all figured out. Spilling over your shoulders, flowing along the valley between your breasts. His gaze lingers there for more than just a few droplets.

Each one of your shaking breaths disrupts the pattern in a new way, rise and fall, spill and flow. Water beads across the soft flesh, flowing right past the warmed, softened, flushed skin of your nipples.

Maybe that water doesn’t have it all figured out after all — Bradley thinks there’s no way he could pass that by so freely.

Then, he watches where the droplets spill to once they pass your breasts by. They surge across your soft stomach, spilling across your abdomen, dripping into the navel and tracing the dulcet curve of your hips.

He hasn’t ever had you like this. Unobstructed, unwavering — all-encompassing. There could be a flood outside and he wouldn’t care. He knows he should be grateful for this, alone, and he is, it’s enough, you’re more than enough, but there’s a greed growing in him that wants more.

He wants to inhale the fresh, soapy smell of your skin. Taste the remnants of yourself on your skin, before it’s scrubbed clean. Feel you melt into him. His gaze flickers back up to yours like a drumbeat.

It makes you stiffen, the sudden look in his eyes. All red-blooded, lust-driven, filthy thoughts pooling into the soft browns of his irises.

Before he loses the nerve, or before you do, he tips your chin back swiftly and kisses you hard enough that the two of you fall into the cold tiles behind you.

Sturdy, centuries old structure behind your back and even sturdier, warm weight against your front, you’re pinned at an angle and your feet feel like they’re slipping but you’re smart enough to know that falling isn’t an option.

A deep and desperate sound falls from his lips as he pulls back, his forehead knocking into yours. Your mouth hangs open, your eyes wide, like you know just what Bradley’s thinking when he looks at it.

He squeezes at your body, leaning forwards and letting his mouth cover yours. You’re just about growing comfortable with it, with his nose bumping your cheek and his broad shoulders, his weight pinning you to the wall. Then, his hand skims along the centre of your back and without warning, squeezes firmly around the flesh of your ass.

It’s not that it feels bad. In fact, there’s something that makes you want to keen into the rough touch that you don’t quite understand. But all of a sudden, it clicks that you’re pinned between him and the wall, and his weight is a heavy anchor, his hands are everywhere and his mouth is hot.

He feels your fingernails press weakly into his bicep.

“Stop.” you tell him quietly. Really, you aren’t even sure if he would hear you. Maybe Malcolm hadn’t heard you, if you had asked him to stop.

He pulls back swiftly and looks down at you, both hands planting safely on your hips. He’s watching you carefully, but he doesn’t have to search hard go find what he’s looking for.

“Yeah?” He says softly, nodding.

It’s an instant thing, the way you shrink back into the wall behind you and duck your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he swallows and gives a shake of his head. He got carried away, that’s all. “You’re right. We should hurry up.”

And just like that, it’s not about sex. The fear in your eyes fades to recognition, and Bradley leans forwards and presses his lips to your forehead.

The two of you finish your shower in strictly platonic nature. One by one, you duck out of the bathroom and leave behind any evidence of your morning together, to get ready for the day.

Trees bow under the weight of the fat raindrops as the rumble of thunder grows closer. The villa groans and creaks, shutters rattling and slamming. The power gets knocked out a little after two, leaving very little for anyone in the house to do.

Bodies are strewn lazily around the living room everywhere you look. Luke’s taking up the majority of the couch, his raven-coloured hair tucked back under a Jets cap and a book balanced against his sternum, a concentrated frown plastered across his face.

Bradley got the good spot, tucked halfway into the reading desk in the far right corner of the room. His face is illuminated by a cluster of flickering candles, sitting amongst his piles of papers. Alessandro sits beside him, the two of them have been talking away for hours now. Their conversation is muted for the benefit of others, but you can hear the occasional Italian cuss word from your spot on the floor.

“Do you think they used to jerk it to these pictures?” Zoe whispers. You glance up at her, then across at Abigail.

She grins, lifting up the book and turning it onto its side, displaying a printed artwork like a centerfold. “See? Like an ancient playboy? — Miss June, and Miss July.”

Bradley looks up as the three of you giggle for the third time in ten minutes. It doesn’t take him long, when looking at the way Zoe is pointing out the spread legs of a woman riding a man, to notice the comparison she’s making to modern pornography.

He’s used to it by now, his students pointing at tits in the books and giggling to themselves. If she was doing her work, she would be reading about exactly what made the mulier equitans so popular in Roman art.

You’re laying on your front, looking up from the pages of your notes, with a soft grin toying at your lips. None of them know how you started your morning.

Today, Bradley is studying a passage from Ovid’s Art of Love, depicting various forms of copulation and the cultural attitude to them at that time. Sexual variety fascinated the masses back then. Paintings in homes, carved into architecture, spinitrae tokens in Pompeii.

Astrology and its links to sexual preferences. An intriguing read, really.

“Man, this is a wicked storm.” Robin glances over her shoulder at the mass of bodies lazing around the living room, then back out of the window at the sheets of rain pouring onto the fields beyond.

“This is wicked boring.” Luke says from his spot on the couch. As one of Bradley’s best teaching assistants, this work comes much more easily to him than it would to most. He could finish it in thirty minutes if he wanted to.

“Hey, Bradley—“

“No.” Bradley says swiftly.

Luke’s mouth stretches into a little-brotherly kind of annoying grin as he tucks an arm behind his head. “Come on. We’re bored.”

“Sounds wicked tough, dude.” Bradley answers, looking back down to the book, mocking his student so coolly. Luke has always found an older brother in Bradley, so the taunting just makes his grin stretch wild.

From your spot on the ground, you find yourself smiling at the pages at Bradley’s joke.

“Can you teach me how to do that card trick where it’s upside down in the deck?” Luke persists. You didn’t know that Bradley knew any card tricks.

“No.” He answers bluntly, but in the kind of way that shows he’s clearly still getting some kind of enjoyment out of this rapport with Luke.

“Bradley, did you ever tell anyone else that you took piano lessons for like twelve years?” Luke asks, shooting a pointed look at the baby grand in the corner of the room.

Bradley looks up at him, and your mouth twitches. A red flush starts at his ears and spreads across his temples, onto his cheeks and down his neck. You’ve never seen a grown man blush like that.

“Don’t go there, buddy.” Bradley warns him, knowing equally embarrassing facts about Luke and starting to categorize them in his mind.

“Did you really, Bradley?” Abigail asks.

He glances at her, then makes a point of trying to focus on his work once again. Big, boyish Bradley, delicately tapping away at the keys of a piano is difficult to imagine.

“He sings too.” Luke declares.

“Luke.” Bradley warns, not looking up this time, flushed pink.

You’ve never seen Bradley be quite this shy about anything. He frowns at the pages of his book, oh, so serious.

“C’mon. One song and I’ll leave you alone. We’re bored.” For once, you’re on Luke’s side. Not that you would voice that.

The wind whips the side of the house and the shutters rattle in support of Luke’s campaign. Bradley starts to scribble down nonsense annotations in the effort of getting at least something done.

“Go find a puzzle or something.” He mutters.

“Aw, come on, Bradley, please?” Zoe joins in.

“Just one song.” Robin adds.

Bradley looks up, and finds you. Caught smiling at him from the carpet, clearly amused by the entire situation. You stare back at him, unwavering and expectant.

With a dejected exhale, he looks down at his watch. “One. And then none of you are allowed to speak to me until at least 4pm.”

You know that he would make an exception to that rule for you. There’s no planned alone time for the two of you this afternoon, since he was supposed to be out. Maybe he’s as disappointed about that as you are.

“Play something we know this time.” Luke interjects as Bradley crosses the room to the piano. Last time, Bradley sang a track from the 50s and Luke didn’t have a clue what the hell it was.

Bradley untucks the bench from the piano, and sits down. His back is straight as he removes the cover and settles his fingers onto the keys. “Uh-huh, like what?”

“What, you’re thirty-three and you don’t listen to the radio anymore?” Luke scoffs.

Bradley closes his eyes for a second and tries to think of a song that he knows how to play from this decade. He doesn’t play too much these days.

The room is quiet, even the rain seems to have quieted in anticipation for his performance.

He shoots one more pointed look toward Luke, and then presses his fingers into the keys. You settle your chin against your palm as he taps out the opening chords of I guess that’s why they call it the blues.

Just like everything he does, he makes it seem effortless, fluidly playing the melody. And then he starts to sing.

You watch him across the darkened room. The candlelight flickers on his face as lightning strikes outside. Don’t wish it away, don’t look at it like it’s forever.

His fingers press gently into the keys, the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Alessandro sits back in his chair and smiles softly, knowing how much easier Bradley would have been convinced to perform all those years ago.

His voice is deeper than you would have expected, but soft as he finishes the first verse. God, he’s handsome.

It couldn’t possibly have taken longer than four and a half minutes for him to get through the song, but it feels like you watch him play all afternoon. Broad-shouldered, serious, still flushed-pink even once he has stopped singing. He turns sheepishly to face the room.

“Encore!” Luke whoops before anyone else gets a chance to say a word. Bradley groans, pushing himself up from the chair swiftly and rolling his eyes.

“Bite me.”

Zoe whips around to face you, clearly not as captivated by the performance as you had been. “Bradley’s kinda hot when he sings.”

Your mouth flattens, purely because it occurs to you suddenly that it wouldn’t be appropriate to smile. If she thinks he’s hot when he’s singing, she would be captivated by what you had gotten to see in the shower this morning.

The afternoon workload grows tiresome quickly, and Bradley watches his students filter out of the living room one by one. You disappear with Zoe and Abigail trailing in tow a little after three.

Alessandro’s wife serves a family style dinner, since the house is full and it’s still too rainy for anyone to have other plans. Bradley sits at the far end with Sandro and Dorie, all of them talking in politely hushed tones. You are at the opposite end, finding yourself missing those private dinners the two of you had gotten to share in the city.

After dinner, Bradley knows that his room upstairs is likely to be occupied after seeing Robin’s hand wandering across Luke’s board shorts at dinner. He disappears into the study to finish up with his work, and you call it an early night.

Well, you try to. After rereading the same three pages of Sarah Keene’s Air of Enchantment six times, you give up and head back for the stairs. The house is quiet and empty feeling. Without power, you guess there isn’t a lot to do around here.

You trail your fingers along the wallpaper, rounding the entryway into the now empty living room. The bench of the piano is still untucked from where Bradley had sat earlier. You let yourself be drawn towards it, taking a seat and brushing your fingers along the keys. Dust under your fingertips, candlesticks burning around the room — you figure that Sandro or his wife must be around somewhere if there are still candles lit.

There’s no sneaking around in a house like this. The handle clicks, and the wood creaks loudly from a room away. Bradley’s weight passes across noisy floorboards, growing closer.

He was hoping to see you, trying to convince himself to stay away from your room. His lips twitch. His eyes flicker over the grey track shorts and the Nicks jersey you’re wearing, casual and comfy, with your hair down. He likes it.

“Hey.” He says softly.

“Hey.” You answer, watching him. Maybe someday you’ll talk him out of wearing those t-shirts that are too sizes too big for him, but today’s not that day. It hangs on his broad frame as he walks towards you.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your shoulder with a warm palm.

“Here.” You realize suddenly, shifting over as far as you can on the bench to make room for him. He glances down, knowing he won’t fit, and decides to perch half off of the bench anyways.

At your side, Bradley considers bringing up this morning. It’s been itching at him all day to know what about his behavior in the shower had been too much. He’s been wishing he was a mind reader, really. He would love to figure out exactly what he can do to make you relax.

“I didn’t know you played piano.” You tell him, watching your fingers ghost over the keys.

“I don’t, so much anymore.” He answers.

“I liked hearing you play.” You say.

He turns his head, smoothing his fingers along the length of your spine. Maybe he won’t hit Luke for revealing his secret after all.

Luke wants to do what Bradley does, and Bradley is only nine years older than he is — they had grown close quickly when Luke has first started TA’ing for him. Luke knows plenty about Bradley, and Bradley knows plenty about Luke. He hopes the two of you never get to making small talk, really.

“Will you play it again?”

He blinks, broken from his train of thought, and finding you looking at him now. Bradley looks between the piano and your face, his brows drawing slightly together.

”The same thing?” Bradley asks, displaying that awful habit he’s got of leaning one of those thick shoulders into you, crowding your space and grounding you with his presence. His thumb brushes tenderly over the tip of your nose, then across the bow of your top lip as he tips his head to one side. “You don’t want to hear anything else?”

You purse your lips in thought, then shake your head. The way your lips twist and hint at a smile just drives him crazy. Like he really has to work for the full thing. You shrug your shoulders at him. “Can’t a girl want a private rendition?”

He taps his thumb against your chin, his fingers stretching along the underside of your jaw. He doesn’t make you work for the smile that he gives you. Really, he would have to fight to keep it off of his face. “Fine.”

The tip of his tongue dips from between his lips to wet them, then he sighs softly and straightens into proper posture and turns his attention towards the keys. Your arm loops under his, your head settles to rest against his shoulder. He likes that feeling.

Wind whips rain against the shutters. The older ones creak and bang in complaint, unprepared for such miserable weather. Bradley’s fingers tap fluidly at the keys. Your fingertips trail the vein in his forearm up to the cuff of his rolled shirt sleeve.

He sings quieter than before. After all, this performance is just for you now. His voice is softer, if it wasn’t so effortlessly melodic, it would be like he’s reading to you. He doesn’t have to, there’s no sheet music in front of him and he knows which keys he’s reaching for, but his gaze remains solely on the piano. He can feel you looking at him.

From where your head is resting against his shoulder, you’re peering up at him with your obstructed view of his face. Your touch tickles against his forearm, your fingertips grazing the strap of his wristwatch with each trip.

As the first verse ends and the pace of the song builds into the chorus, Bradley winkles his nose slightly in concentration. Your lips twitch. The shutters bang against the old house. He turns his head and catches your gaze; you pull back so that he can really see you.

And I guess that’s why they call it the blues;

time on my hands could be time spent with you.

Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder, under the covers.

And by the time he gets the words out, he’s smiling again. Not because of the absurdity of him performing Elton John for the second time in one evening, or because this is far from what he would have chosen to sing you, but because of the way you’re watching him.

Like you’re watching him play Sonata No. 14.

Long before Elton John first graced the US charts, Bradley would be sent over to his grandmother’s neighbor’s house every Thursday for two hours while the adults were at work. There, he sat at the piano and seethed to the pace of the metronome while a miserable seventy year old war vet scolded his posture. He hated playing piano back then.

It’s not so bad anymore.

And that miserable old man wasn’t really a bad teacher. Maybe Bradley was just a bad student.

Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second,

He turns his attention back towards the keys like he didn’t have the song memorized by ‘84.

And never forget I’m your man.

Wait on me, girl. Cry in the night if it helps. But more than ever, I simply love you, more than I love life itself.

Your head settles back against the warm muscle of his shoulder. Your fingers dance along the sensitive inseam of his forearm. You close your eyes and the rain grows louder, Bradley’s breaths between the lyrics grow deeper.

This is nice. You let your mind wander, wondering if evenings would always look like this with Bradley, if he would always sing you the same song over and over. On evenings like this, he would kiss the top of your head and tell you he loved you, and you would tell him the same.

It’s not hard to picture.

Your eyes remain closed through the chorus and remaining verses. Just the soft cotton of his shirt against your cheek, the rumble of his singing voice and the rain outside.

He swallows and clears his throat quietly, as he withdraws his hands from the keys.

“What’s your favourite song?” You ask him softly. His hands rest in his lap, his eyes on the painting directly across from him. He takes a moment to think about it.

“Have you ever heard the song Take it To the Limit by The Eagles?” You might not have, he figures that since you probably would have been in school when that album came out, you probably weren’t as big of an Eagles fan as he was.

You shake your head softly. “I don’t think so. What’s it sound like?”

He pulls back, and raises his eyebrows at you. “Is this an elaborate plan to get me to play for you all night?”

Your smile grows bashful, but your eyes remain steadily on him. “I just want to hear how it goes.”

“Well, what’s your favourite song?”

“You know that song from last summer, rhythm of the night?”

Bradley stares back at you. His eyes wrinkle at the edges and his mouth breaks into a grin before the laughter bubbles over and he spills forwards.

“Like El de Barge? Forget about the worries on your mind, da-da-da-duh-da-da?” You’ve never heard Bradley giggling quite like this before, literally tickled pink by your revelation as he jokingly hums out the words.

You’re powerless but to grin back at him. “Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”

Alessandro peers into the sitting room as he passes by. He doesn’t take time to stop and stare at the two of you sharing the piano bench, giggling with each other, but now he understands what the other students have all been gossiping about.

“I was expecting Madonna or — Wham, or something.” Bradley manages through his giggles, swiping a hand through his curls, almost gaining composure before bubbling over into laughter again.

“Sure, I like them,” You agree with him, smiling dumbly at the way he leans into you to laugh, “But come on! — You just can’t listen to that song and not feel happy!”

He’s up so close that you could kiss him when he finally gets himself together, still smiling softly back at you. Driven by his amused disbelief, he shakes his head softly. His fingers brush against your knee.

All of a sudden he has this image of you wandering around with that headset covering your ears, and De Barge being the soundtrack you have picked. Scowling at him from the back of the minivan, listening to such an upbeat track.

“You’re a trip.” He tells you.

Your eyes flicker downward, briefly catching on the way his fingers are curled into the skin of your thigh. Not too hard, just kind of holding you close. His own eyes follow suit, and linger on the way your hands sit in your lap. On your still bare ring finger.

When he looks at you this time, he’s thinking of the shower this morning. Your head lulling back onto his shoulder, sighing in pleasure as you just let yourself enjoy the moment. His lips tug at a soft smile.

“So, will you play that song for me? — Your favourite?” You ask. There isn’t a lot of room on the bench so, as you twist to face towards him, your thigh sits across the top of his, halfway into his lap.

Maybe he will end up playing for you all night, after all. He shoots you an amusedly pointed look, then lifts his hands and settles them onto the keys once more.

You grin at him, shifting closer again, settling your cheek against his shoulder.

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666@krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x you #professor bradley

[sebsxphia]

professors!jake and bradley co-teaching an intro to human anatomy course.. and you’re just really struggling during this unit

bradley suggesting weekly tutoring with him and jake?

jake would edge you with his fingers until you can name every part

bradley making you name every bone, including the extra one you currently have

-🗝

INCLUDING THE EXTRA ONE YOU CURRENTLY HAVE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

my beloved anon, i’m gonna kiss your mind for that, oh my god 😵‍💫

not only do they use sex and praise to get you to learn and remember, they’ll also use your body as an example to talk you through human anatomy. you’re spread out on jake’s desk with his fingers buried deep inside of you. bradley has your lips parted to allow jake full access and occasionally he’ll tweak at your nipple.

“see how your body reacts when we touch you there, hm? that’s the nerve endings in your precious little clit reacting to our touch. so good, so obedient too.”

omg. thank you so much for this insane thot my beloved anon!! 💌

#💌you’ve got mail #🗝️ anon #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #professor!jake #professor!bradley #sebs masterlist #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n

[professorbrainstorm]

My friend sent me a picture of his doggo, so I had to make it a meme.

Check out my website for more fun stuff

Professorbrainstorm.odoo.com

#funny memes #meme #puppies #doggo #funny #funny stuff #funny post #comedy #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun hangman #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #tom cruise #web design #graphic design #horses #nature #professor brainstorm #tumblr #viral #Animals

[bittergomez]

PROFESSOR!HANGMAN AU?!?!

his fluffy hair. glasses. the toothpick. his beard. please i need someone to write this au 🥲

#ugh if anyone finds a clearer version of this please lmk #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #top gun maverick #top gun #professor au #college au #professor!hangman #glen powell #glen powell x reader

[misaothewitch]

Hangster college au where they share this one class and absolutely can't stand each other until they're forced to do an assignment together

#rooster x hangman #they try to argue with the professor but it doesn’t work #and they're both ambitious and on top of the class so they take it very seriously #and well they end up in love #what can I say I'm a sucker for rivals to lovers #hangster #top gun maverick #hangman x rooster

[topguncortez]

I like to imagine that Jake Seresin would be a good Daddy too👀

I mean. . . Professor Seresin anyone???

Professor Jake Seresin would be a very condescending dom. The type to tease the fuck out of you every single time. He's for sure got a dumbification kink ( I mean the dude has a fucking PhD, so he knows he's smart as fuck) Loves it when you can't think of a single coherent thought while he's balls deep inside of you.

"What was that sweetheart? Come on, use your words. But that big smart brain of yours can think of something?"

"Not a single thought in that head. I fucked you too good, huh."

Professor Seresin loves throat fucking. He at first held back, knowing that it would probably take you some time to get used to his size down your throat, but the second you look up at him through your lashes, he's grabbing the back of your head and thrusting his hips roughly.

"Take it all sweetheart, there ya go, so good for me," When he hears you gag around him and see the tears, it only turns him on more, "Ruining all your make-up and you spent so much time on it, poor thing.

BYE THIS MAN IS GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME:)))

#top gun blurb #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #hangman #hangman blurb #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #Jake seresin #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin blurb #Jake seresin x reader #feral hours with g #professor jake seresin

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

all of a sudden, I have about 15 half finished fics in my drafts. which fic should I finish first? I want to give the people what they want <3

Web of Lies chapter two + Honey Girl chapter four are in the works already. all of the above are just one shot options!!

I love these polls they're so helpful

#javier peña fluff #will miller smut #professor!joel miller #professor!joel Miller smut #luke alvez smut #mickey garcia fluff #roommate!carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin smut #hangman x reader x rooster #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw x reader smut #murph does polls #joel miller smut #jake seresin x floyd!reader #criminal minds smut #narcos smut #top gun maverick smut #triple frontier smut

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

indy seresin and the avalon prophecy - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC (Indiana Jones AU)

moodboard by @newlibrary

PROFESSOR BRADLEY BRADSHAW is missing. He was last seen in England, sailing for the island of Glastonbury the following morning, when he disappeared. A known Arthurian scholar, it was said he was looking for any clues that would lead him to the location of Excalibur, the lost sword of King Arthur. Legends about the sword claimed whoever found it would be bestowed with magical powers - alongside being the rightful ruler of Britain.

But now word has come to his sister, DR. VERONICA BRADSHAW, that he is missing. According to the last letter he sent her, he feared that the Nazi Regime was also looking for Excalibur in hopes of using its power to help aid them in the ongoing war - and he planned to get to the sword first. She fears that her brother may not have been successful. However, no stranger to a bit of danger, she gathers her brother's notes and sets out to find him herself. Her first step: Marshall College. Where famous archeologist and adventurer PROFESSOR JAKE SERESIN teaches. With him by her side, surely they will be able to find the sword and her brother.

#oc: ronnie bradshaw #fic: indy seresin and the avalon prophecy #fd: top gun #indiana jones au #professor!jake #professor!hangman #jake seresin au #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x ronnie bradshaw #moodboard #fic moodboard

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #jake seresin #top gun #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfic #hangman x reader #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin angst #jake seresin au #jake seresin blurb #jake hangman seresin #tgm #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #hangman x oc #hangman x you #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman fluff #hangman imagine #hangman

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor." 

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out. 

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here? 

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot. 

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem." 

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away. 

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up. 

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor. 

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started. 

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand. 

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air. 

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up. 

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down. 

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland. 

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong. 

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board. 

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker. 

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there. 

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago. 

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him. 

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon. 

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile. 

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools. 

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat. 

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice. 

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed. 

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? 

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket. 

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect. 

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later. 

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake." 

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent. 

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her. 

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight. 

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back. 

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh. 

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed. 

-----------------------------

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-joyride

@theharddeck

@withakindheartx

@roosterscockpit

@whatislovevavy

@hangmanbrainrot

@neferpatra

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@child-of-thedevil

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@mygyn

@hoyaharper

@tallyovie

@gennyanydots

@callsign-magnolia

@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

@double-j

@bradshawsbitch

@sugarcoated-lame

@katiebby04

@anotherr-fine-mess

@supernaturaldawning

@chassy21

@tylerjones98

@captainjaspenor

@gigisimsonmars

@fanboyswhore9

@angel-w0nderland

@abaker74

@idontcare-11

@isaebellaa

#jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake hangman seresin #hangman fic #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #adult education #top gun rocktober #jake hangman fic

[gretagerwigsmuse]

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 1/2]

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw has a thing for smart girls - and maybe ones who hate his guts on principle. a lie by omission is still a lie after all and bradley never exactly told you what he did for work...

OR you take on the us military industrial complex one hinge date at a time...well sort of

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, and slight dom/sub and praise and rank kink elements), idk basically she’s a bit of a brat? and he likes it? it’s kind of filthy, but it’s supposed to be kind of funny and a little silly?

A/N: thanks to everyone who liked the sneak peek and provided such positive feedback! but i really have to give a shout out to my buddy sol (desertsagecelestial) for being the absolute best sounding board with this fic! definitely check out her wip, it’s amazinggggg. anyway, enjoy! (9.9k) Part 1.5

Bradley previously hadn’t had much luck on Hinge, but after Phoenix had taken charge of his profile, specifically his picture selection, he had been doing a lot better. That being said, however, you were still the first girl he had actually met up with to go on a date. 

Hangman had initially scoffed at the notion of Bradley’s Hinge date that night - god, Bradshaw you’re hopeless, don’t you know all the easy ones are on Tinder? - but had quickly changed his tune once Bradley had shown him your profile. 

She seems smarter than you was all he had said and Bradley wasn’t so cocky as to not take it as a compliment. Plus, he liked smart girls. There was something about them. It didn’t hurt that the ones he had come across were always a little prissy, a little spoiled - a little uptight. 

A little bratty.

You both originally bonded over going to UVA - albeit with quite a few years between your graduating classes. You worked for one of the Big Four accounting firms and had a job title that Bradley didn’t quite understand except for the fact that it sounded important. You both traveled a lot for work, were newly settled in the area and randomly New England Patriots fans. 

Over the last few days, you had been texting frequently, starting off the day with your Wordle scores and a fun fact. It was cheesy and a little nerdy, but you were a big trivia fan - and San Diego County Barstool Trivia Champion - and Bradley had wanted to impress you. It was important that he impressed you.

Before heading out for training every morning, he’d try to find some new fact to stump you. His were always a bit nerdy, more random, while yours were always a bit more serious. Yesterday’s had been the tiny pocket in jeans was made for a pocket watch, while yours had been there are over 7100 islands in the Philippines. 

Thankfully, the date was going well - really well, actually. You both loved history and had studied political science at UVA. Bradley couldn’t believe you’d had some of the same professors, even graduating eight years apart. 

And he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his face when he got you to admit - begrudgingly - that you had been a Tri-Delta. Because of course you had been. All the smart, rich girls had been. And well, if one thing had been consistent over the years, it was Bradley’s taste in women. 

That being said, he had been absolutely bowled over when you had shown up, pretty little sundress and all, looking even more beautiful than the pictures on your profile. 

More to the point, though, he liked you and it appeared that you liked him too if the way you readily laughed at his jokes and kept brushing your knees against his under the bar top were any indication.

But it was about an hour into your date when the trouble started. Or well, maybe not trouble. A development, he supposed. 

A minor divergence of opinion, really. 

Nothing major.

“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around, a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”

He shrugged. “Oh, uhh my friends and I like it. It’s right near the base and we normally come after training. It’s not too fussy, I guess, so I thought it would be good for a first date. Low key and all that?”

Maybe he had misjudged picking the Hard Deck. It wasn’t exactly the finest establishment in San Diego County, but the drinks were good and you had mentioned Coronado a couple times over text, so Bradley had thought it would be convenient for you. 

In fact, to offset the location, he had even worn a pale blue oxford, unbuttoned but with a plain white t-shirt underneath. You seemed like the kind of girl who would have appreciated the effort. At least that’s what he had gleaned from your Hinge profile.

“Oh.” That wasn’t a good ‘oh.’ You even leaned back on your barstool. “You’re in the military?”

Bradley chose his next words very carefully, mindful that there definitely seemed to be a wrong answer here and he was about to give it. 

“Yeah, a naval aviator,” he nodded, trying to sound casual, “is that going to be a problem?”

You shrugged and took a sip of your margarita before licking some of the salt off the rim. Bradley watched, captivated, despite the fact that you had just insulted him indirectly. 

“I mean, I understand that we need a military - to a certain extent, at least. But I’m kind of against the whole US Military Industrial Complex thing? Like the US alone spends more on defense than the next nine countries combined. And the cost of one of those planes you fly could probably feed the entire New York City public school system’s worth of kids three meals a day for at least - well, I’m pretty shit at math, but I’d say at least five years -” 

Holy shit. You were - oh, fuck. Before he really thought it through, Bradley went to interrupt you. “- I mean, when you put it -”

“- Plus, the whole imperialism, white man’s burden, manifest destiny bullshit you all like to spout out like Uncle Sam’s got your dick in his mouth. It’s a bit much.”

Bradley scoffed. He couldn’t help it. In all his years of being in the Navy, he’d never once had this sort of reaction. It was - oddly stirring, actually - finding out the woman he had envisioned every night before he’d fallen asleep the last few nights apparently now hated his guts.

“I get what you’re saying - to an extent,” he reiterated once he saw your pleased smile, “but the military still does a lot of good outside of combat zones.”

You laughed, but it lacked any humor. “Sure, taking advantage of impressionable kids with the promise of free college - that they probably won’t actually take advantage of because going back to school when you’re older than ninety-nine percent of your classmates isn’t daunting at all, to say nothing of the exploitation of foreign nations to further stock the US’ natural resource coffers - is a great business model?”

He ignored you and nodded towards your margarita. “Want another drink?”

“Only if you put it on Uncle Sam’s dime.”

------------

“So, do you just regularly lie to women?”

You were both on drink number two and the awkwardness of your earlier outburst hasn’t quite dissipated yet. The sexual tension on the other hand? If Bradley had thought it was high earlier, it was stratospheric now.

“What’re you talking about?” He hadn’t lied to you, to his knowledge, at least. 

You crossed your ankles and clasped your hands in your lap. “On your profile, you didn’t mention anywhere that you were in the military? A lie by omission is still a lie.”

And you didn’t mention how much of a brat you were. 

Bradley shifted on his barstool and subtly readjusted his jeans. “I’m not in the habit of lying to women…”

You scoffed. “Well, how do women normally react when you tell them you fly around in a $65M plane all day?” He’d never really thought about it. “Is it like a puck-bunny thing?”

“Puck-bunny?”

“Or whatever the military equivalent of a puck-bunny is?”

It was a tag chaser, but Bradley wasn’t about to tell you that. Not when he was imagining you wearing nothing but his dog tags, splayed out on his bed, while his tongue lapped against your dripping wet cunt - 

“- Some women like it, sure.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you like that?” 

Bradley shrugged. It was nice sometimes, but it definitely got a little old, all those guys and girls imagining playing the good little house-spouse waiting for him at home with dinner on the table, two kids and a dog running in the yard. That was more Hangman’s thing, anyway. Lately, Bradley had liked his partners with a little more spark, a little more fire, a little more substance. 

A little more like you.

“It has its benefits sometimes.”

It seemed like you couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that burst out of your mouth. But just as suddenly as you‘d started, you’d stopped. You rolled your shoulders back and then flipped your hair over one of them, giggling in an exaggerated manner. 

“Hmmm like this? Oh, Captain Bradshaw, please take me for a ride in your big, big plane? Is there any way I can thank you for defending our country? No, sir, it’s just the cockpit is so big and I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of on leave. Yeah, I bet you just love that, captain,” you bit out the honorific.

“If you’re gonna be a brat about it, at least get my title right, sweetheart,” he snapped, the first time all night. He shoved his knee in between your legs, widening the space between your thighs just slightly. “It’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Oh, my apologies.” You shifted on your barstool and crossed your legs at your ankles, looking like the textbook definition of prim and proper. “You’ll have to excuse me, lieutenant commander, all this new information I’m learning about you has left me feeling a bit…overwhelmed.”

Bradley hooked his foot around your barstool and dragged it even closer to him. You let out a squeak and had to brace yourself by holding onto his shoulders. 

And then it was like everything else in the Hard Deck had faded to the background: the jukebox playing Al Green’s Tired of Being Alone, the clack of billiard balls in the back corner, the King’s game on the TV above the bar. All Bradley could focus on was you - the slight rise and fall of your chest, the way your breasts were straining against the deep V of your dress, the smell of your floral perfume, and how your eyes widened at your sudden proximity.

And that was when he knew. Knew as well as the sun was going to rise tomorrow morning that you were going to fuck that night.

He hadn’t planned on sleeping with you on the first date. In fact, it really hadn’t even crossed his mind. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. But Bradley never fucked on the first date. Long gone were the one night stands he had indulged in during his twenties. He wanted someone who was smart, who put him in his place, who he could laugh with and have a real conversation. 

Someone like you - military prejudice aside. And yeah, you made some…interesting points and he agreed with some of them. But, for now, Bradley wanted to see how far you both could take this before either of you snapped. 

“You have any more questions for me, sweetheart?” He dragged his fingertips down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Don’t like the thought of you being too - what was it again - overwhelmed?”

You let out a little whimper and then shook yourself slightly, seemingly stepping out of a trance. 

“Hmmm have you ever taken a girl for a ride in that stupid plane of yours to get her to sleep with you? Seems like misappropriating government property would be right up your alley - lieutenant commander.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back. “Can’t say I have. Bit of a stickler for the rules.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” you teased. “Do you have one of those nicknames - no wait, what are they called? Callsigns? Do you have one of those callsigns?”

Your legs were pressed tightly together, crossed at the ankles. He had a sudden desire to thrust his knee in between them again. It had been impossible to ignore the fire that had sparked in your eyes the last time he had done it. 

In response to your question, Bradley hesitated, already knowing you were going to tease him even more. “Rooster.”

“Like the chicken?” You tilted your head. “Or is it a cock? I can never tell?”

“Why? You wanna see it?”

You rolled your eyes and knocked back the rest of your margarita, making a point to keep eye contact with him as you licked the salt off the rim - again. Fucking minx.

“I’ll be back, get me another.”

And without a word from Bradley, you spun around on your barstool, giving him the slightest glimpse of your ass when your dress rode up, and set off towards the bathroom at the back of the bar.

He sat there for a moment, his mouth slightly gapped open in - shock, awe, arousal? Because holy shit. The past twenty minutes or so had been some of the most sexually charged of his life thus far. There were times when he could have sworn one of you was going to leave - or worse, grab the other by the back of the neck and start dry humping against the bar.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” Phoenix hissed in Bradley’s ear, snapping him out of his daydream. 

He startled and then gestured wildly. “It was going fine for a while and then I told her I was in the Navy and she started going on about defense budgets and misappropriating government property and Uncle Sam sucking my dick - I don’t know, Phoenix!”

She snorted and then seemed to realize he wasn’t kidding. “Oh my god - wait, we need to tell Bagman -”

“- Don’t you fucking dare -”

She ignored him and went on her tiptoes to lean over Bradley. “- Bagman, get over here,” she shouted.

Surprisingly, and without comment at the unfortunate nickname, Hangman came over towards the two of them. “What’s wrong, Bradshaw scare the poor girl off already? Probably escaping out the bathroom window as we speak.”

Bradley flipped him off, but it lacked any heat. He also signaled for Jimmy to get him another margarita and old fashioned then to close out his tab. 

“She doesn’t like the military.”

Hangman whistled. “Tough, I’ve dealt with that before and trust me, it never ends well. Cut your losses and block her.”

But Bradley didn’t want to do that. His losses did not want to be cut - at all. He wanted to see how that smart mouth of yours looked wrapped around his cock. Or how prettily you sighed as he lapped at your sopping wet cunt. If you laughed easily or thought he was a good singer. If you wanted to try that new restaurant that opened in Gaslamp with him. 

Fuck. He wanted you - desperately. And worse than that, he liked you. Liked how smart you were, liked your sense of humor, liked you. And some part of him felt bad for setting you up. 

Because he hadn’t told you he was in the Navy. It wasn’t that he purposely didn’t tell you, he just hadn’t. And you were right, a lie by omission was still a lie. 

So, yeah. You were probably a little validated in your ire. But god, if it wasn’t one of the hottest things Bradley had ever seen. Who knew a woman reading him for filth would be such a turn on?

“Nah,” Phoenix patted him on the back like you would a child who had just lost their first little league game, “I have a feeling Rooster’s going to see this one through.”

Jimmy brought over a fresh margarita for you and an old fashioned for Bradley and also left the check. He gave Bradley an encouraging smile and Bradley was glad Penny hadn’t been there to see - well, see whatever the fuck was going on with you and him. Because Penny would tell Mav and Mav would go all fatherly on him and tell him to be respectful towards girls, no matter your difference of opinion. He sighed.

“It’s like I still want to impress her - she just doesn’t -”

“- Want to be impressed by you?” Bradley nodded. “Do you actually like her or do you just like the challenge?”

“The challenge, obviously,” Hangman scoffed, “girl sounds like a bitch - guess she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit -”

Bradley clenched his jaw and muttered: “- Fuck off, don’t be an ass.”

“Oh that’s right,” Hangman nudged Phoenix like she was in on it, though she looked almost as pissed off as Bradley, “girls like that have always been Rooster here’s kryptonite. Do you think that stems from your mommy or daddy issues?”

Just as he was about to go off on Hangman, Bradley noticed Phoenix’s eyes widened at something over his shoulder and he instinctively knew it was you. Fuck. He really hoped you hadn’t heard what Hangman had said. 

“Just fuck off,” he muttered to both Hangman and Phoenix before you could get any closer. Phoenix sent a small, but kind smile your way, while Hangman just rolled his eyes and then they were gone. 

You were quiet as you approached the bar, a timid smile on your face. 

“Your buddies trying to get you to ditch me?” Your voice sounded softer, shy for the first time all night. “They scared I’m going to brainwash you or something? Make you drink my liberal tears?”

Bradley genuinely laughed and got a brief smile out of you. “Nah, they were more worried about me being too hard on you, at least my friend Natasha was - here,” he held his hand out to help you get back on the barstool. 

You ducked your head as you muttered out a thanks. For the first time since your date had started, the conversation wasn’t flowing and the two of you sat side by side in silence having a couple sips of your drinks. Bradley kept thinking over what Hangman had said and hoped you hadn’t been able to hear him as you approached. Meanwhile, you rolled the tiny straw between your fingers as you took a sip of your margarita, thinking something over if the little crinkle between your brow was any indication.

You had definitely heard what Hangman had said about you. But that didn’t mean it was what Bradley had thought about you. He missed the you from earlier in the evening - the one who got the Wordle right in two tries that morning and relentlessly bragged about it, the one who he had made laugh so hard tears had sprang from your eyes when he told you about his run in with an old woman at the grocery store last week, the one whose entire face lit up when talking about something you were passionate about.

Sure, he liked arguing with you - and he was pretty sure you did too - but he didn’t want you to think this was a joke to him or anything like that.

Bradley took his eyes off the King’s game he wasn’t really watching on the TV above the bar and turned his body towards you. He said your name and lightly nudged your shoulder. Slowly, you turned your head, though not your body, to face him. 

“Sorry about Hangman - Jake, that is. He’s not exactly who I’d go to for dating advice - pretty sure he hasn’t made a girl cum in about five years - something about seeing this girl for a couple months until they found out they were distant cousins or something?” 

It wasn’t true - at least Bradley didn’t think so - but he got a small smile and slightly amused head shake out of you. 

“Regardless of all of this, you shouldn’t have had to hear that, especially since I don’t -”

You fully turned to face him. “- Listen, Bradley,” you said a moment later, “I got dressed up for this, wore cute underwear, and even got a wax, so if this was a - a joke or if you don’t see this going forward in any way or - god, if you don’t even want to - look, I can just leave and we can pretend -”

“- No. We’re leaving.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deep, commanding - dominant. And all you could do was lick your lips. “Now.”

With a smile on your face, you let him take you by your elbow and guide - read drag - you towards the exit, barely stopping to allow you to grab your clutch off the bar top. Knowing Hangman and Phoenix were no doubt watching the entire series of events unfold, Bradley threw his middle finger up over his shoulder, and then let the door close firmly behind his back. 

It was quiet in the parking lot, just the hum of the chatter and music from inside the bar echoing across the pavement. Bradley held your hand as he walked to his car in the back corner of the lot. You approached the Bronco and leaned your back against it casually. 

“So, what now?” You crossed your arms over your chest, inadvertently pushing your breasts together. “You gonna take me against the side of your truck like a big strong boy? Put me in my place?” 

He took a step towards you, then another. He could feel the heat pouring off your body and watched the slight rise and fall of your chest. 

“No, I’m gonna take you home and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight in the morning, that sound good, sweetheart?” You nodded dumbly. “And for the record, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco.”

You giggled. It was cute and so out of place considering what Bradley had just said to you. God, you were cute. More than cute. 

“Fine, as long as you don’t take us on the 405 to Brentwood…”

Bradley barked out a laugh at your joke. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I doubt my charm is what got me all the way here.” You placed your hands on his chest. He couldn’t tell if you were going to push him away or pull him closer. 

“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. 

And then, before he could overthink it, Bradley leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. For all his thoughts earlier in the evening, the kiss was surprisingly tender. You tasted like lime and tequila and smelled like summer. 

His hands dug into your hips, pulling you even closer and you let out a gasp - a perfect, breathy, little gasp against him when he pressed himself against your core. Your arms wound themselves around his neck and he in turn picked you up slightly and leveraged you against the door of the Bronco with his weight. You yelped at the action.

“Ooof - that was - god.” You cut yourself off as Bradley started peppering kisses down your neck, behind your ear, across your jawline. Meanwhile, your own hands were sliding under the collar of his t-shirt and oxford, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Now, sweetheart,” he says the term of endearment teasingly, “when you went to the bathroom earlier, you were gone for a while. Thought maybe you got lost or were busy with something else…”

You scoffed. “Please, I was trying to see if I could pick the lock on the bathroom window.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He started inching his hands up your thighs, higher and higher until he could feel the warmth radiating off you. Your legs wrapped around his waist on their own accord, leaving your barely clothed core pressed against the fly of his jeans. “But I bet if I slipped my hands underneath that cute underwear you mentioned earlier, I’d find this pussy soaking wet, hmmm? Lemme make it up to you? All those nasty things that bastard said about you - you know I didn’t agree with a single one, hmm?”

“I know - ohh,” you cried out as one of Bradley’s fingers slipped into your already dripping wet cunt, “god, f-fuck, Bradley.”

He clicked his tongue. “Uh uh uh, that’s Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw to you.” Even in the early throes of pleasure, you managed to glare at him. “Now, you gonna take my fingers like a good girl or not?”

You whimpered when he added a second, then a third. The stretch felt so good and you rolled your hips so he could get even deeper. You were panting against his neck, your feet barely touching the ground as Bradley fucked you with his fingers while his thumb circled your clit. Your breasts were heaving and straining against the fabric of your dress and he could only imagine what they would look like if you were bouncing on his cock.

“Who knew you were such a little slut? Fucking yourself on my fingers in a bar parking lot…”

“Bradley, I - ahhh, ahh - fuck, I hate you.” The words lacked any force behind them due to the moan you let out. 

“Careful, sweetheart. I could make a real mess out of this pretty little dress of yours.” You found yourself nodding along, anything to keep him talking and keep his fingers inside you. 

Bradley could feel you clenching around his fingers, which were buried all the way to his knuckles and absolutely slick with your cum. Fuck. Imagine if you weren’t so blissed out getting finger fucked and you could talk back at him? This time he let out a groan. 

Maybe later.

“Bra-Bradley, I -” you cut yourself off with a moan that turned into a pitiful whimper. Your walls were tightening around him and he knew you were close. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to sneak a taste later. 

With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch to your clit, you came apart for him with a blissed out cry, tensing and then relaxing against him.

“Shh, shh, that’s a good girl, yeah? Such a good girl for me.” Your body was trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you tucked your head into his neck, breathing in deeply. Your lips grazed a sensitive stretch of skin on his neck and he hissed. 

“Come on, look at me…” Bradley said quietly, but firmly. 

Once you lifted your head up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Bradley removed his fingers - carefully, so as to not make a mess of your pretty little dress. You whined at the loss, your pussy still clenching at nothing. He briefly brushed his fingertips across your lips to give you a taste of yourself, before he put both fingers in his own mouth and groaned. 

You watched, transfixed, as he took them out with a resounding pop. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good - here, open up.”

You did as he asked and instinctively started sucking on his fingers. He noticed you subtly rubbing your thighs together and applied the slightest bit of pressure with his other hand, which was on your shoulder and inching closer to your collarbone and neck. 

Eventually, you had to breathe and Bradley pulled his now clean fingers out. 

“Good girl. Now why don’t we head home before you really make a mess?” You nodded and gave him a bashful smile. God, you were so fucking perfect - which reminded him - “but first, I want those soaking wet panties of yours before we get in the car.”

------------

The entire drive to his house was agony. Pure fucking agony. Bradley hadn’t been this tightly wound since his first deployment. Beside him, you appeared relatively unaffected, probably still experiencing the after effects of your orgasm, and were drawing invisible circles on your knee with your left hand. Your nails were painted bright red and looked sinful against your skin. 

Suddenly, the Bronco hit a bump in the road and you both slightly jolted off your seats. You let out whimper, while Bradley was reminded of the white lace underwear shoved in his back pocket. He couldn’t wait to get another whiff of them. 

The two of you rolled up to a stoplight, giving Bradley an opportunity to really look at you. The hand that had once been drawing circles on your knee was slowly inching higher up your thigh before it disappeared underneath the tiered skirt of your dress. You turned your head to look at him, a coy look on your face.

“Are we almost there? I thought you pilots drove as fast as you flew…”

He smirked, glad your spark was back. (Not that he didn’t like the little submissive display you’d put on in the parking lot.) “Almost there - don’t fucking tease me.”

With that, he swatted at the hand currently underneath your dress skirt. You pulled it back with a pout. “But Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I’m wetter than the Middle East before you and your little buddies purged it of oil.”

At that, Bradley barked out a laugh and the light changed. He was still chuckling as he passed through the intersection. “I’ll give you that one.”

You preened. “Plenty more where that came from - don’t forget I still don’t like you…” You both knew that wasn’t exactly true, but Bradley wasn’t going to say anything to the contrary. 

A few moments later, the Bronco practically rolled into his driveway on two wheels. Thankfully, Bradley had left the porch light on so the house wasn’t entirely dark. You looked at the house critically and he desperately wanted you to like it. 

It was important to him that you liked it.

The three bedroom, craftsman house had been built in the 1930s, but had been renovated before Bradley had bought it when his official transfer to North Island had gone through a couple months ago. It was set back a good distance from the tree lined street and had a nice lawn that laid way to a wide-set front porch. You were probably used to the manses dotting the streets of Coronado or Del Mar, but Bradley liked the tree lined streets and sense of community he had found in South Park.

“It’s nice, Bradley,” you said with a smile, sincere for the first time in awhile. 

“Thanks.” He ducked his head, not wanting you to see how happy he was at your meager compliment. “Now come on, sweetheart.” 

Without another word from you, he slid you across the bench seat and into his arms and then opened the door and got out of the car. You sat there, a little thrown and Bradley sighed. “Well, if I have to do everything…”

“Wha - oh my - Bradley!” you squeaked in surprise, as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. He chuckled and shut the door with his hip. “You - you oafish man! If you don’t put me down I’ll - I’ll -”

“- You’ll what?” He smacked your bare ass as he walked up the front steps and headed over to the front door. “Sweetheart, I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands.”

In turn, you smacked his back. “And you would know all about that - making demands. Hostage negotiations, CIA blacksites - mmmhh!”

He slapped you again and felt his cock twitch when you moaned. God, you had such a smart little mouth on you. 

“Alright, now you gotta be quiet unless you want all my neighbors to see you like this - ass out, marked red by my hands. Is that what you want?”

“No…”

“Good girl.” You wiggled your ass and this time it was Bradley’s turn to moan. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He fished his house keys out of his pants - accidentally grazing his hand against the pocket holding your panties first - and then unlocked the door. He kicked it shut and locked it, then turned on the light on the hall table before he even contemplated putting you down. It felt like you were trying to turn your head around or at least pick it up, probably to get a look at the place. Eventually, and with another smack on the ass, Bradley put you down. 

Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place. You quickly tried to fix your hair in the mirror hanging above the hall table while Bradley threw his wallet and keys into a bowl on the same table and toed off his shoes. He briefly glanced at you in the mirror when his eyes fell on something reflecting light on the mantle in his living room - his gold plaque from the uranium enrichment mission was proudly perched for all to see. 

Including you.

Bradley could already hear the teasing comments coming - what’s that? a participation award? - and resolved to distract you before you caught a glimpse at it. Luckily, you were both horny as fuck, so it wasn’t exactly hard to think of a distraction. 

He slipped behind you and brushed your hair over one shoulder and started pressing featherlight kisses down your neck, keeping eye contact with you in the mirror the entire time. You leaned back against his chest and sighed, before you turned around and pulled him in for a kiss. He could have sworn he could still taste your sweetness from earlier when you’d sucked his fingers clean, but that may have just been wishful thinking. 

Slowly, and without breaking your frantic kiss, he walked the two of you through the house and towards his bedroom. He only stubbed his toe once and you laughed against his lips when you let out a grunt of pain.

“Watch it, lieutenant. Thought you had your sea legs?”

He chose to ignore your comment and turned on another light, creating a soft glow in his bedroom. You took off his oxford, throwing it onto the chair holding other various button downs and Hawaiian shirts in the corner. Your hands slid underneath his white t-shirt, roving over his abs, dragging your short, but sharp nails across the skin. He groaned.

“Navy’s good for one thing, I guess,” you muttered against Bradley’s neck while your hands ran over his body. 

He pushed you back slightly, so you fell onto the bed, propped up by your elbows. “Only one thing?”

You spread your legs, fully taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t have any underwear on. In fact, it was still in Bradley’s back pocket and there it would stay. “Well, that might not be not true. I bet you probably get loads of discounts and shit like that - wait do you have a J Crew discount? I can only imagine there’s nothing like getting rewarded for colonizing and exploiting half the world fuck - Bradley!”

You cried out when he grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of his bed. He’d perfectly positioned himself between your legs, leaving your absolutely glistening cunt on full display. Bradley would be - admittedly - shocked if there wasn’t a puddle of slick on the passenger seat of his car right now. You bit your lip, no doubt thinking you knew what he was going to do next.

But instead, he tightened his grip around your ankles and then let go of them a moment later, so you were sitting up perfectly on the edge of the bed. 

“Awww, sweetheart. You didn’t think I was gonna go down on you with that stunt you played in the car, did you? Only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You whined and Bradley figured you would’ve stomped your foot too had you been able. “Tell me - tell me how to be a good girl? I want to be a good girl for you.”

Oh fuck him. He’d come in his pants like a twelve year old if he didn’t hurry this along.

“Get on your knees.”

You didn’t have to be told twice and sunk to the floor in front of him. Your bare ass was resting on the backs of your feet while your dress fanned prettily over your knees. 

He clicked his tongue. “While that does make for a pretty picture, I believe I said on your knees, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, lieutenant commander.” Your eyes were wide as you peered up at him and Bradley hoped you’d try and keep eye contact with him the entire time you had his cock in your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He cupped your cheek and then swept your hair out of the way and untied the ribbon holding your open-back dress together. 

Though your dress didn’t quite fall down right away, it did gape open to your shoulders and was easy to slide off the rest of the way. The ruffles and fabric bunched at your hips due to your kneeling position, leaving your breasts on full display. 

“So pretty.” You ducked your head, but he tipped your chin back up so you had to look at him. “Knew you were hiding something under that pretty dress.”

You bit your lip, a genuine smile flitting across your face. “I bought it special for you - for our date.”

“Then I’ll try my best not to ruin it. Maybe I’ll aim for those gorgeous tits of yours instead.”

With slightly tremulous hands, you unbuttoned Bradley’s jeans and then dragged your index finger - with the fucking red nail polish - along the zipper. His cock practically jumped at your touch and he held back a groan. God, he was going to finish way too fucking quickly. Probably another thing you’d tease him about. (Oddly, that didn’t help him, if anything it turned him on even more.)

You pulled the zipper slowly and then started to pull Bradley’s jeans off, but he got impatient and did it himself. His cock was already erect in his boxer briefs and you just stared at it, a wicked smile on your face, for a moment before tilting your head up. 

“Got to say, I’m a little disappointed. Thought for sure you’d have American flag boxers on.” You reached out to palm him over the soft fabric and Bradley couldn’t help but buck his hips into your hand. “Somebody’s eager.”

“Well, not everyone got taken care of in a parking lot…” He forgot the rest of his sentence because you had just slipped his boxer briefs off and his cock sprang out.

You licked your lips and peered up at him. “Bet you’re the pride of the Navy with this.” You leaned in and blew a stream of air on him and then pressed a light kiss to the tip. Bradley shuddered. You swirled your tongue around his cock, making sure to flick your tongue along the underside. He then gently guided himself into your mouth and you salivated more around him. He moaned - deep and guttural - as you fully took him in your mouth, while your head bobbed up and down. Of course you were good at giving head. Of course.

“Glad to know that smart mouth has other uses.”

You moaned and Bradley quickly realized the futility of his plan to try and last longer. He groaned and his shoulders sagged in pleasure as you worked him, hands doing what your mouth wasn’t able to as you grasped the top of his shaft and balls. 

At one point, you changed tactics and hollowed out your cheeks and sucked. Bradley couldn’t help but bring his hand around the back of your head and buck his hips, getting faster and harder with each passing thrust.

“That’s a good girl, you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

The praise spurred you on, your enthusiasm only getting better with every passing second and Bradley felt that tell-tale tugging in his gut that he was close. It was like you had something to prove - you took him deeper, your hands became more skilled and dexterous, your moans more sinful, your eyes wide and eager as you peered up at him.

“Fuck, I’m so - close. I’m gonna cum.” Bradley said your name and your hands dug into his thighs. “If you don’t tell me otherwise, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You pulled back just enough to say: “Please, just wanna take care of you.”

And that did it. With a final thrust of his hips into your sweet mouth, he spilled himself inside you. Like a good girl, you swallowed everything he gave you. Every last drop. You looked so proud of yourself.

You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand and slowly rose from your knees. You were completely naked, your dress pooled down at your feet and he couldn’t resist roving his eyes up and down your body. God, you were so gorgeous.  

You were both breathing heavily, but he didn’t hesitate before grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. When he eventually pulled away, your eyes met, and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Fuck me, Bradley - please?” 

You said his name. Not lieutenant commander or asshole or some other slightly condescending moniker. You said Bradley. As in you wanted him - the guy who had originally asked you out. The one you had tried so hard to impress all those days and nights spent texting. 

And who was he to say no to that? 

He grabbed you by the hand and laid you down on the bed, your hair fanning out on the crisp white pillowcases and sheets he had put on freshly that morning. You sighed as you burrowed your face in the sheets. “Kiss me.”

Who was he to refuse you? But instead of pressing his lips to your own, he went lower and wrapped his mouth around your breasts which had taunted him all evening, always straining to break free of that gorgeous dress now thrown on his floor somewhere. You arched your back to grant him better access and then wrapped your leg around his hip, digging your ankle into his ass.

His dick was hard again, pressed against your wetness, reminding him that he hadn’t touched you there since you had been in the parking lot. God, it seemed like hours ago. 

“Bradley,” you sighed as he kissed down your stomach to right below your belly button. “Need you inside me - now.”

He groaned. “You gotta be patient, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you now.” You whined, clearly not liking that answer. Bradley slid his hand between your bodies and started playing with your clit. You sighed and he then slid one finger into you, then another, crooking them both as he dragged them down your walls. He could tell the teasing was driving you crazy, but he kept at it, bringing you closer to your release and then pulling back before you could find it.

“Please,” you whimpered sometime later. It was a simple, one word response, but it proved to be his undoing. 

Bradley slid his hand down to his cock, pumping it a couple times before he lined himself up and slid into you. You both moaned at the contact and Bradley started to find a rhythm that would suit the two of you. It took some direction from you both, but you eventually figured it out.

“How ‘bout you tell me more things you hate about me?”

You turned your head into the pillows, muffling a moan as Bradley snapped his hips to meet yours. “Ahhhhh, That Hawaiian shirt on your chair is - is abso-lutely h-heinous -”

“- Not like that.” He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder and you keened, loving the new angle. His dick plowed into you relentlessly and Bradley savored every thrust, loving the way your cunt tightened around him each time.

You grabbed his shoulders, bringing the two of you chest to chest, so you could pull him in for a kiss. It was frantic and hot, all teeth and sighs against each other. The feel on your breasts against his chest was another sensation he didn’t want to miss out on any longer. Fuck, you had gorgeous tits. The perfect size for him. Bradley pulled his head back, but didn’t slow his pace.

“Want my girl on top, want those gorgeous tits in my face as I fuck her.” 

Your back arched at his words and before you could say anything, he flipped the two of you over so now you were on top. “Ohhhhh,” you sighed as you took his cock to the hilt before you started riding him in earnest. 

You pushed your hair back and smiled down at him wickedly. “Do you know how many,” you started, seemingly just remembering his comment from earlier, “CO2 emissions that - fuck, Bradley, right there - that stupid fucking plane of yours emits ev - everyday? Fucking des-troy-ing the environment - ahhh,” you broke off with a sigh.

“No, tell me?” Your breasts were bouncing right in front of his face and Bradley reached out to grab one with his right hand, keeping the left firmly on your hip. He pinched your nipple and you keened. 

“I - I can’t remem -” you panted, “- it’s a - ahhh, fuck - it’s a lot.” 

The absolutely blissed out expression on your face made him groan. “God, look at you now, all cock dumb for me. What happened to that smart girl from before?”

You took a moment to gain your thoughts. “She wasn’t getting fucked so good back then.”

“So good, huh?”

“Bradley.” Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, but you still managed to get another question out. “How did you vote in the last three presidential elections?” He slowed his pace and you glanced down at him. “Wait, are you registered to vote?”

Bradley actually paused, fully in possession of his faculties. “You know, I don’t think I changed my registration over yet from Virginia -”

“- So help me fucking god, Bradley, I will jump off your dick right now if you -”

 “- Obama.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “Clinton.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “And then Biden.” Thrust. Moan. Pull back.

“Good boy,” you just managed to get out before Bradley really felt himself losing control. 

He wanted to - no, he needed to finish inside of you. He couldn’t bear the thought of flipping you over and pulling out, only to spend himself all over your stomach - seemed like a waste. Neither of you had the forethought to get a condom out of his nightstand.

“Are you on the pill?”

“IUD,” you barely got out, “Can’t have any of your military brats running around now, can I?”

Thank fuck. He wanted to come inside you so badly. Fill you up and then watch his cum drip out of you. God, he was so close. He just wanted to flip you over again, so this time you were on your back.

“Gotta wait a couple more dates before we start talking about kids, sweetheart - god, it’s like your cunt was made for me -”

“- Jesus fuck, Bradley! Just come inside me before I -” The most beautiful moan he had ever heard interrupted what was sure to be another diatribe of yours. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck -”

And then it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. With one final thrust, his orgasm crashed through him and he spent himself inside you. A moment later, you followed, your body briefly tensing and then you came with a cry. 

You collapsed against his chest, spent - the two of you a sweaty mess of limbs and slick between your thighs as you both rode out the aftershocks. You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his chest, and gave him a look of pure adoration. 

“There’s my good girl,” he said, getting a winning smile out of you. Somehow, you managed to pull yourself up and give him a kiss, less heated than the previous ones you had shared, but no less meaningful, before you rolled over onto Bradley’s other side and slipped under the top sheet. 

You both laid there, side by side, chests rising and falling heavily. Fuck. Neither of you knew what to say - if there even was something to say. It had never been like that with anyone else - ever. 

“I still don’t like that you’re in the military,” you said, not turning to face him. 

The matter of fact way you said it made Bradley chuckle, which then turned into a proper laugh and you soon joined in.

“Sorry,” you said through your laughter, “just had to make sure that was clear.”

“And I’ll just try to forget you asked me who I voted for in the last election while I was literally inside you.” You groaned and hid underneath the sheet. “Just so you know, that was my honest answer. You can look up my voting record if you really want.”

You peeked your head out from under the sheet. “And you’ll promise to change your registration to California?”

Bradley chuckled. “I’ll go this week.” 

“Good.” You smiled shyly at him and then propped yourself up onto your left elbow, peering at him curiously. “So, how do we really feel about the stache?” You brought your finger up to his mouth and dragged it across his mustache and then to his lips. 

Bradley leaned back on his elbows and glared at you. “We like the stache…”

“Okay, sure, sure.” You scrunched your nose and tilted your head back and forth a couple times. “For now.”

“You’ll change your mind after riding my face.”

You pulled the bedsheet up higher on your chest, but tangled your legs with his. “Planning another round already, huh?” 

He kissed your nose. “You know us military guys, ready with a moment’s notice.” You yawned. “Or maybe not…”

“Sorry,” you started sitting up, “I was busy all week with that project I mentioned.” He nodded, remembering the couple times you had brought it up earlier in the week via text. “And didn’t get much sleep. Anyway, I guess I should get going…”

Despite his best efforts, his face fell. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

“Yeah…” But you didn’t move. “This was -”

He scooted over towards you and laid his hand on your thigh. “ - You can stay here tonight - I mean, if you want to? Like by the time you get an Uber and then get back to your place - you’ll be out like an hour of sleep already.”

You glanced around the room and bit your lip. “I don’t know - I figured you didn’t - I mean, I don’t know if you want -” you cut yourself off, seemingly not wanting to say anything more for the moment.

“It’s no big, really.” You still seemed unsure and Bradley hoped he didn’t sound too eager. 

“Okay - yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Cool. Uhh is it okay if I just use the bathroom…”

Bradley nodded readily. “Yeah, uhh, it’s down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Cool.” You tiptoed over to the leather and oak chair in the corner that held Bradley’s mountain of shirts. You grabbed the button down he had worn earlier that evening and threw it on, quickly fastening the middle two buttons. “I’ll just,” you thumbed over your shoulder and scampered out of the room.

“I’ll be here,” Bradley said to the empty room. 

Fuck.

-----------

Saturday mornings were one of Bradley’s favorite times of the week. He allowed himself to sleep in a little later - nothing crazy, just nine o’clock - and then prepared himself a well balanced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast with one of those fancy cold brew coffees he had finally figured out how to make. 

He so rarely allowed himself that time during the week - the ability to ‘just do’ and not over think everything. To do whatever he wanted. But that Saturday morning was different. 

Because that Saturday you were there.

His arm was thrown over your stomach, leaving you close, but not too close to him. You slept on your back, while he slept on his side. Your sheets had barely moved during the night, still wrapped tightly around your breasts, while Bradley’s were half kicked to the end of the bed and half bunched between the two of you.

There were a smattering of bite marks across your neck and chest and Bradley wondered how the rest of your body under the sheet had fared. He stretched slightly, hoping not to wake you yet and felt a pleasing ache in his thighs. Beside him, he watched you shift slightly in your sleep and twitch your nose. He quickly shut his eyes, knowing you were waking up and didn’t want to be caught staring. 

You let out a blissful sigh and burrowed yourself into the pillows on your side of the bed. As you stretched, your leg grazed against Bradley’s and you let out a little gasp and quickly yanked it away. 

Figuring that was a good excuse to wake up, he rolled over to face you and let out a little groan of his own, but didn’t open his eyes yet. 

“Morning,” he rasped as he opened his eyes. You were staring at him, looking like a deer in headlights. “How’d you sleep?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Uhh, fine - thanks.” You cleared your throat. “Do you know what time it is?”

Bradley rolled over to glance at the old fashioned alarm clock on his mid century modern nightstand. “Just after nine. Do you want -”

“- Oh. I guess I should head out then…”

He tried not to look too disappointed. “Oh, yeah.” He sat up in bed, leaning against the pillows piled up against his headboard. “Uhhh, I think your clothes are over there.”

You slipped out of bed, taking the top sheet with you to preserve your modesty he imagined, and made your way to the foot of the bed where your dress had wound up last night. You managed to put it on without letting the sheet slip and swept your hair out of the way to tie the ribbon at the back that Bradley had loved undoing hours ago. 

Once you finished, you looked around the rest of the room, but avoided eye contact with him. He had a feeling he knew what you were looking for - your underwear.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, it’s in my jeans. The back pocket.”

You went over to the pile of his own clothes on the floor and picked up his jeans, finding your white lace underwear in the back pocket, like he had said. For some reason, Bradley glanced away while you slipped them on. He turned back around and gave you a small smile, but found that you were already staring at him, an unreadable expression on your face. You shook yourself out of whatever trance you had been in and made your way over towards his side of the bed. You cleared your throat before speaking.  

“Look, I’m sorry, Bradley. But I don’t know if I see this as a long term thing?” You leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. It was only slightly condescending. “But if you ever want to ever want to fuck again, let me know?”

And before he could even get out a response, you were gone, a trail of perfume in your wake and Bradley was half hard again. He leaned back against his headboard and let out a deep sigh. 

Oh.

He had thought you’d both come to some sort of truce last night. You’d slept over for fuck’s sake. Was it so out of the realm of possibility that you would want to see him again? And for more than just sex at that? For a moment he just sat there, staring at his hands clasped on top of his duvet. Was this how every girl felt after Hangman did the ol’ two pump dump on them? It made him rethink every date or one night stand he’d had in the last fifteen or so years - was this how it felt to be ghosted? Wasn’t that what people were calling it now? God, it was fucking shitty -

Suddenly, there was a commotion coming from the hallway and Bradley belatedly realized he hadn’t heard the front door close. The sound of sandals slapping on the hardwood echoed through the house and you suddenly burst through his bedroom door, a giddy smile on your face. 

“Oh my god, your face!” You giggled, looking downright gleeful. 

The realization that he had just been had - mercilessly, truly he would never live it down - just hit Bradley. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hide his smile or the relief he had felt. 

You smiled in turn, looking carefree and beautiful with your messy morning hair and post sex glow. You took a couple steps towards him and the bed and he reached out to absentmindedly finger the hem of your dress. 

“I think we’ve established that I’m actually hilarious.”

“Tell me a joke then - come on, right now. Tell me a joke?”

You tapped your index finger on your chin - once, twice. “Hmmmm, what about the fact that you work -”

“- For the Navy?” he finished with you. You nodded, that giddy smile back on your face. “Not your best, but we can work on that.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Smart girl.” 

You hummed in response and leaned forward to play with his hair, pulling it slightly at the roots. “So you’ve told me. But I’ve been thinking, have you ever thought about a career change?”

Bradley sighed, humoring you. “Can’t say I have, but what do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Well, I think I could proudly fuck an astronaut - oh my god, Bradley!” You let out a shriek when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto the bed next to him. 

He leaned over you, propped up on his right elbow. “An astronaut, huh?” 

You nodded, now laying flat on your back. “Unlike your obnoxious friend from last night -”

“- Bagman,” he purposely gave you the wrong name, hoping it would stick and you’d earnestly call Hangman that to his face the next time you saw him.

“Bagman,” you repeated, “right, well, unlike Bagman from last night, you’re actually very intelligent.”

“Oh, I’m very intelligent, huh?”

You ignored him. “You already fly in that death trap plane and can handle all the g-force so the astronaut training programs shouldn’t be - don’t look at me like that, all surprised I know what g-force is, I’m not an idiot.”

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“And -” you sat up in your excitement, “- now this is the most important thing - you won’t be actively contributing to the exploitation of foreign nations by exporting their natural resources for the benefit of the US economy.”

You looked so pleased with yourself that Bradley couldn’t help the proud smile from stretching across his face. “How about I think about it? That good with you?”

“That would be nice…” you tried to sound nonchalant about it, but he could tell you were pleased. “And what do you want in return?”

He scoffed in mock outrage and sat up beside you. “Me? Want something in return? Never?” You shot him an amused look. “Hmm, how about this?” He grabbed your hand and played with your fingers. “You go out with me again?”

A smile crept across your face and you ducked your head. “I think that’s a fair trade - provided I get to pick what we do?”

“Oh, of course,” he said with mock solemnity. 

“Then I accept.” 

You gave him a quick peek on the lips, but Bradley pulled you back in for a deeper kiss. You responded in kind, leaning into him and pressing your body against his. He wasn’t entirely sure how serious you were about this whole astronaut thing - he doubted you were - but he was committed to making this work between the two of you. 

If your thoughts on the military were that important to you, then you and Bradley would work something out together. He wasn’t about to give up on this just yet. He wrapped his hands around your hips, right at the top of your ass, and you squirmed against him, never breaking your kiss. For a moment, he let himself get lost in a daydream with you, of him going off to space and you - hold on just a minute...

He pulled his lips away from yours. “- Wait, wait - it’s not okay for me to exploit foreign nations, but it’s okay for me to potentially colonize space?”

You straddled his waist, barely moving your lips away from his neck as you gave a reply. “Shh, shh, we can work out the details later…”

THE END

[Part 1.5] [Part 2.1]

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun smut #writing #bradley and smart aleck #bradley fic #top gun

[sunlightmurdock]

Threesome!? Now this has me wondering if any of your Bradleys or Jakes has shared someone with each other for even just a night?

Oof, see now I thought about it and thought about it and I genuinely think all of those mfs are simply not into sharing. Even safe zone Jake and Bradley can’t agree on their sexual custody agreement (that’s a joke<)

If I had to name a pair from each, I’d say that Power and Control Jake might get off on seeing her with someone else and knowing that they don’t compare, and that Professor Bradley would be up for a threesome of any kind (bc he’s secure in himself like that) — but probably not regularly, because he enjoys the intimacy of just one on one sex the most.

#professor bradley #sugar daddy Jake #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw smut #jake hangman seresin #Jake Seresin smut #my roosters #my jakes

[sebsxphia]

jakes got you sitting up on his desk as he's making out with you, as he slides off your top over your head, you both hear the knock at the door.

"kind of busy right now! come back tomorrow" jake would call out, making you laugh quietly.

suddenly the door bursts open, bradley standing there in shock of what he's seeing.

"well what do we have here?" he'd smirk, closing the door behind him as well as locking it.

your tits would be out on display, bradley wouldn't even been shy of looking away. jake would sit down in his chair, leaving you all flustered and out of breath, knowing you want to be touched.

"bradley, what is it? i was in the middle of something" jake would say, passing you your shirt.

"sure looks like it, jake" he'd chuckle, li was coming in here to get those reports off you but, seems you have your hands full"

you'd be looking at bradley with fuck me eyes also, jake notices and he'd be fuming.

"i told you i'd get them to you tomorrow, now can you leave?"

"i'll leave if you want me to tell the headmaster?"

"fuck"

you'd look at them both, "why don't you both fuck me?" barely covering your tits with your hands, wanting to touch yourself knowing the hottest professors wanted to fuck you at the same time.

"now that's an idea" bradley would point at you, stepping closer to you sitting on the desk. "what do ya say jake?" bradley would ask, as his hands made their way up to your nipples as he start to play with them between his fingers, making your whimper.

jake would stand back up, putting bradley in his place. "fine, but you aren't fucking her"

bradley would disregard what jake said and kiss you ever so lightly on the mouth, while still playing with your tits.

jake was getting hard just looking at you come undone for someone else.

you'd lay down on the desk, jake sliding off your shorts and underwear, as bradley stood at the top of the desk, so he could fuck your mouth with his cock. a few strokes in and he's already hard, you grabbing his cock and bringing it to your mouth would make him moan instantly.

and jake? he was too busy eating you out to notice how good you were taking all of bradley in your mouth. jake would be rubbing on your clit with his fingers, then sucking on your slit to get the loudest reaction out of you, making you gag on bradleys cock. jake would finger you too, added fingers slowly. humming against your clit would make your orgasm approach fast but he'd deny you of it so quickly.

you're in for a long "study" session.

oh MY GOD MY DEAR ANON LEMME KISS YOUR BRAIN PLS THIS EVERYTHING IVE WANTED AND MORE 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!! <333

#💌you’ve got mail #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #professor!jake #professor!bradley

[ereardon]

Snowed In || Saturday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.2K 

Masterlist here; Part one aka Friday here

You had spent seven years trying to reinvent yourself after college. Almost exactly three thousand miles between you and Stanford, and yet the ghost of who you had been haunted you. 

The funny best friend. The sidekick. The mousy girl in class. The overachiever. The one who wasn’t invited to parties. 

You had moved to New York after graduation and taken a job with a small newspaper, working your way up. Along the way you had gotten a haircut, figured out how to apply makeup with a wet beauty blender, how to dress for your small frame. You had traveled at every opportunity, made friends with people across the city, dated a hedge fund analyst and a bee farmer and a NYU professor. You had done everything you had wanted to do and more. 

But when you laid down to sleep at night, or first thing in the morning, all of that change escaped you. And your mind immediately flitted to the version of yourself that you had once been but no longer were. 

The girl Jake Seresin had known and loathed. 

***

The day was bright. Blinding. You groaned, rolling over, taking the covers with you, trying to shield your papery eyelids from the light streaming through the blinds. 

It was no use. You groaned, eyes flying open. 

Jake. 

For a split second you had forgotten that not ten feet away, Jake Seresin was hypothetically asleep on your couch. 

Slowly, you sat up, peering over the edge of the couch. But it was empty. The pillow and comforter that you had laid out the night before folded neatly and set in the corner. You frowned. And then the sound of the tap in the bathroom caught your attention. A moment later it stopped and Jake emerged from the bathroom into the hallway, wearing a pair of joggers and a fresh shirt, hair damp. He smiled. “Hey Finn.” 

That was it. Like he had forgotten how the two of you had left it the night before. 

“I made coffee. Hope that’s OK. But you don’t really have much else,” he said, sitting down on the ottoman. 

“Ugh, yeah, I meant to go to the store, but I never did.” 

Jake shrugged. “I think that’s our only option at this point.” 

You stood up, the pant legs of your silky pajamas pooling onto the cold hardwood floor as you crossed the room and placed one hand on the window. It was frosty. Blinding white from all the snow swirling in every direction. It made the air practically opaque. “Not it,” you replied, turning around with one finger pressed to the tip of your nose. 

Jake laughed. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go.” 

You grinned. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be all bad. “You can go later if you want. I’m not a big breakfast person, anyway.” 

“Later is good.” Jake sat on the edge of the couch. “Listen, Finn. About last night.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted and Jake’s eyes widened. 

He laughed. A surprised chortle. “Jesus. Never thought I’d hear Ella Finnley apologize.” 

“People change, Seresin.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.” 

You looked him up and down. You had rarely thought of Jake Seresin in the almost ten years since the two of you graduated from Stanford. But when he did pop into your mind, it was almost always at the most random of times, triggered by a memory. The smell of a particular flavor of vodka that you remembered drinking at his fraternity house, or if someone on the street passed with a distinct Texas accent. The years had dulled your impression of him, coated him in a sepia film in your memory that automatically paired Jake Seresin with dickwad. 

Maybe, just maybe, you had been wrong. Or perhaps he had done what you had tried to do. 

Had he actually, fundamentally, changed for the better? 

“I’m going to shower,” you said, hooking one finger over your shoulder.  

“I’ll be here,” Jake said, looking around the studio apartment. The warm water helped wake you up, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the way Jake had looked when he said he had changed from your mind. There was something there that he had never embodied before. At least, not the Jake you had known. 

You turned off the tap, wrapping up in a white towel and sitting down on the edge of the tub, grabbing your phone and dialing a phone number you hadn’t touched in ages. 

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Suze,” you said, smiling. 

On the other end of the line, Suzannah whopped. “Ellie! Oh my God, it’s been forever! How are you?” 

“I’m good,” you whispered, trying not to be too loud. “Listen, I have a question for you.” 

“Everything OK?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I, um, Jake Seresin called me.” 

There was a pause. Then, “Why?” 

You sighed. “He, um, he asked to stay with me. Guess he was stuck at the airport with the storm that’s coming in.”

Suzannah wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. She had an opinion about everything, from the color of your nails to the best way to load a dishwasher to why Santorini is only for tourists. So silence from Suzannah was telling. 

“Suze?” you asked softly. 

“I’m here,” she said after a moment. “What did you tell him?” 

“He’s in my living room.” 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“The bathroom. Hiding.” 

She laughed. “You fucking idiot.” 

“Tell me why you guys broke up again.” 

“Ellie,” she sighed. “You of all people know.” 

You did. Jake had slept with not one but two of Suzannah’s sorority sisters while the two of them were on a break. But break in the Ross and Rachel definition of break. As in the two of them had parted ways for no more than three days before Jake had fucked the other girls. 

“Why’d you call, Finn?” she asked. “You already made the decision to let him in, obviously. So what are you looking for me to answer?” 

“Do you think people can change?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “By people do you mean Jake?” 

“Maybe.” 

Suzannah sighed. “You’re smart, Finn. Always have been. But you don’t trust people and that’s your fatal flaw. To answer your question, yes, I think Jake always had the ability to change. I don’t date losers, babe, you know that. Even back then.” 

I laughed lightly. “God, I miss you Suze.” 

“Call more,” she said. “And not just because you’re hiding in your bathroom from my ex-boyfriend.” 

“I feel like I’m twenty two again,” you replied. “Afraid to come out of the bathroom because you and Jake were fucking on the couch.” 

“Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “You need to go or else he’s going to think you have IBS or something.” Another pause. “Tell me something Finn, and don’t lie to me.” 

You sucked in a breath. With Suzannah, you never knew where the conversation was going to go. “OK?”

“Is he still hot?” 

You let out a snort. “Yes. Unfortunately.” 

“That’s what I thought. Damn men for just getting better with age while I look like a sickly Victorian child at the ripe age of twenty nine. Anyways, I love you, call me when you’re no longer a fugitive in your own home.” 

“Love you too, Suze.” You ended the call, shivering in the thin towel. When you realized you had left a change of clothes in the main part of the apartment instead of bringing something to the bathroom, you groaned.

Whipping open the door, you scampered down the long wooden hallway, shivering in the cold, rounding the corner on your tiptoes. Something hard hit you as your eyes were turned downward toward the floor. A solid mass smashed against your front and before you realized, you were falling to the ground, a small shriek echoing through the walls of your apartment as you and Jake tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs, his fingers grasping for purchase on whatever he could. 

Which just happened to be on your bare ass where your towel rode up. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as the two of you smacked against the floor, your heads thankfully bouncing lightly against the cream colored rug to your left. 

Your eyes flew open as something heavy rolled over you, your knee pressing up into Jake’s crotch instinctively as his fingers touched your bare ass. 

“Oh my God!” Jake groaned, rolling over you as quickly as he had rolled on top, curling into a ball, hands cradling his crotch. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you shrieked, kneeling next to him, gripping the towel around you with one hand, the other hovering over his pained body. “Did I get you?” 

Jake moaned, nodding his head. “Yeah, Finn, you got me.” 

You sat back on your heels. “Well you touched my ass so I think we’re even.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his side. “Not even close, babe.” 

“Don’t babe me,” you said, standing up, making sure to keep your legs closed under the short towel. “You’re fine.” 

Jake grunted, pushing himself to sit as you rifled through the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a tight henley bodysuit. You brushed past him on your way back to the bathroom to change and Jake’s hand reached out, fingers circling your ankle. You gasped, looking down at him. He smirked. “It’s a nice ass.” 

“Oh fuck off, Seresin,” you muttered, tugging your ankle from his grip as he chuckled. “Your balls aren’t even sore are they?” you called down the hall. 

“Oh, they are!” 

“Dick,” you whispered to yourself, shutting the door.  

***

“Finn?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I turn the TV on?” 

You scowled. “What happened to independent reading time, Seresin?” 

After towelgate, you had emerged into the living room with a plan. To make time go faster, you and Jake would divide the day like elementary school. Breakfast coffee followed by gym class, per Jake’s suggestion, independent reading and a late lunch.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do for gym class when there’s a blizzard outside?” you asked. 

Jake shrugged. “Yoga?” 

The two of you had struggled through a yoga video that you screencast on your TV, and after Jake had obviously been staring at your ass in downward facing dog you smacked him on the arm. 

But an hour into reading and Jake was already calling it quits. 

He put his book, a worn copy of Wuthering Heights from your bookshelf, off to the side, kicking up his feet onto the coffee table. “Let’s play a game.” 

“Game time isn’t for an hour,” you replied, never taking your eyes off of your book, a new thriller by Ruth Ware. “God, are you sure you have a job? How do you focus on any work?” 

“I bounce around a lot,” he said. 

“Bounce around jobs a lot?” 

“Bounce around projects,” Jake clarified.

You looked up, eyebrows raised. “What are you, a drug dealer?” 

“Finn.” 

“What?” you asked, eyes flicking back to your book. “You never were great in school.” 

“Hey,” Jake cried. “I wasn’t great at Sawyer’s fiction seminar. Doesn’t mean I flunked out of any other class.” 

“You flunked out of Sawyer’s fiction?” You laughed. “God, that’s bad.” 

“It’s been nine years,” Jake said. “Can’t you let little things go?” 

“Nope,” you said, putting your book down. Outside, the snow had slowed so you could finally see through the opaque wall of flurries. “Fine, since you can’t sit still, why don’t you go to the bodega.” 

Jake frowned. “What do you need there?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Jake looked around before turning back to face you, eyebrows raised. “A hammer?” 

“What the fuck would I need a hammer for?” 

“Why are you sending me to the hardware store during a snowstorm?” 

You bent in half laughing. “Wait, are you telling me you think a bodega is a hardware store?” 

“Well isn’t it?” 

“No,” you said, wiping under one eye. “It’s a fucking corner store. Bread, soda, beer. Chopped cheese. Midnight cigarettes.” 

“You don’t still smoke, do you?” he asked. 

“No, not anymore.” 

“Me neither.” 

You shook your head, standing up and grabbing your purse, pulling out a card. “Here, take this.” 

“No way.” Jake stood, pushing the gold Amex away from him. “I got this.” 

“Fine,” you said, sliding the card back into your wallet. “I don’t know, get us stuff to last another two days. Some pasta, maybe. Fruit so we don’t get scurvy.” 

“Scurvy in two days,” Jake muttered to himself, shrugging on a jacket, “that’s new information.” 

“Vodka,” you said. “And limes. I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with another day of being with you.” 

Jake turned toward the door, shaking his head. “Aren’t you a delight, Finn.” 

You tried to read while Jake was gone but every little sound in the hallway would make you look up. Finally, after five or so times of that happening, you gave up, setting the book down and sitting on the windowsill overlooking Fifth Ave. 

He was gone for a suspiciously long time. So long that at one point you almost pulled out your phone to call him, convinced he had gotten lost, when the doorbell rang. A minute later, you tugged open the door. 

Jake was covered in melted snow, huffing and puffing. He had two bags in each hand, and a bouquet of flowers under one arm. You frowned. “Flowers?” 

He stepped inside, tracking muddy water into the foyer of the apartment and you grimaced. “For you,” he said and your heart skipped a beat. Jake set down the bags, holding out the bouquet of white roses. “For letting me stay.” 

“Jake,” you whispered. 

He smiled. “Just take them, Finn,” he said softly. “For once in your life, let me do something for you.” 

“Fine,” you replied, taking the flowers and pressing them to your nose. They smelled clean and soft and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had bought you flowers. You headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “Shoes off, Seresin. Stop tracking mud everywhere.” 

“I know,” Jake said and he was close, so close behind you that you could feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. “I’m getting something to wipe it up.” 

He reached around your body, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser on the counter to your right, his chest brushing against your back before he pulled away. When he did, a rush of cold air hugged you tightly, reinforcing the fact that Jake was gone. 

Once all of the groceries were unpacked, you and Jake were settled at the dining room table eating two bodega sandwiches. 

“You’re like a kid who was left alone for the weekend, do you know that?” 

Jake looped up from his bacon egg and cheese. “What makes you say that?” 

“The groceries, Jake,” you replied. “Ice cream, cookie dough, Doritos, mac n cheese boxes? Seriously?” 

“I got fruit like you asked,” he said, taking the last bite of his sandwich and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Besides, it’s a snowstorm. Don’t we get a free pass?” 

“Free pass for what?” 

Jake stood, clearing his plate and your empty one. He smirked. “A free pass to do whatever we want, Ella. Whatever you wouldn’t normally do. Nothing is off the table.”

“I can think of a few things that are.” 

***

Jake was better behaved with a full stomach. The two of you wrapped up reading time, and even played a game of Monopoly that you had found buried in your closet. Before long, it started to get dark, the sun sliding below the buildings until the sky was just a dark blanket peppered by the continuous snow. 

You flicked the news on. “More snow is expected to fall across parts of Manhattan and the wider Tristate tonight,” the newscaster said. “We could see up to another six inches overnight.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered, turning it off as Jake returned with two glasses. He handed one to you. “What is this?” 

“Vodka tonic,” he replied and you took a sip. “Since I know you’re trying to get me liquored up so I’ll have to sleep with you.” 

You sputtered, vodka spraying out of your mouth as Jake cackled, settling down onto the couch next to you. 

“Easy there,” he said, patting your knee, squeezing gently as you wiped at your mouth. 

“I think of the two of us, you’re the one that’s easy to get into bed, Seresin,” you murmured. His hand was still resting on your thigh. 

“Maybe so,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving yours. “The couch isn’t too comfortable, you were right.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the bed with me.” 

“What if I beg?” 

“Is that your kink? You want to have to beg for sex?” 

Jake leaned back, taking a sip of his drink, his hand still hot on your leg. “Sweetheart. I’ve never had to beg a day in my life.” 

You crossed your legs, letting his hand slip off. “Never say never, Seresin.” 

***

Somewhere between the third and fourth vodka soda was when things started to blur. Jake had brought the bottle out into the living room, along with a pack of tonic waters and a lime on a cutting board. At some point, you kicked off your slippers, tucking your feet up beneath you and Jake did the same, scooting closer on the couch, one arm stretched out over the tufted back. 

You leaned forward, reaching for more vodka, sliding a little and Jake’s arm shot out, catching you around the middle, suspending you in midair so you didn’t fall. 

Your faces were close together. He was basked in warm light from the candles on the mantle and the soft yellow lamp in the corner. He smelled good and cozy and for a second, you could almost forget that he was Jake Seresin. He was just a really attractive guy in your apartment looking at you like he never wanted to tear his eyes away. 

“How on earth are you single, Finn?” Jake asked, his fingers tightening around my side. His green eyes were clear and wide. 

You grabbed the vodka bottle, dumping some into my glass, and Jake finally released me. But his knee was pressed against my leg still, warm and inviting. “I don’t like dating,” you said. “Every guy is the same. He’s Midtown East and he has three cell phones or he lives in Fidi and he works twenty hours a day or God forbid he’s from Brooklyn and he wants me to take the L on the weekends. He’s an Upper West side dick whose mother will never approve of me. He’s an Upper East Side prick who would never look my way because I didn’t go to prep school. Or maybe he’s another Stanford alum, but even then I probably won't be good enough for him somehow.” 

“How could you not be good enough?” Jake whispered. 

“You overestimate me, Jake,” you replied. “And you overestimate the New York dating scene.” 

“You’re smart,” he said. “Beautiful. Charming in a really dickish, sarcastic way.” You laughed, head tossed back and Jake’s fingers on the back of the couch tickled your neck. “The whole package, El. Always have been.” 

“You didn’t like me in college, Seresin,” you replied. “What made you change your mind?” 

“Who said I didn’t like you in college?” 

“You did! The way you always gave me shit and how you always avoided me if we were waiting for Suzannah at the same time.”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t hate you. I’ve never disliked you a day in my life, Ella.” 

“Then what?” you asked. “Why were you always so weird?” 

Jake paused. You watched his jaw tense. He set his cup down on a coaster on the table and stood up abruptly. “We need more liquor.” 

You frowned. “What? No, we still have vodka left.” 

“Then we need gin.” 

“I have gin.” 

“OK, tequila.” 

“Jake, what are you doing?” But he was already down the hall, pulling on his jacket, sliding into his boots. You scrambled off the couch. “Jake, wait!” But he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. 

You stood in shock. What had just happened? After a few minutes, you tugged on a coat and a pair of boots, slipping your keys into your pocket. The hallway was dark and empty, no sign of Jake.  

Five floors later, you emerged in the lobby. “Ella!” Gerry the doorman looked up from behind the desk. “How are you sweetheart?” 

“Hi Gerry,” you said. “Did, um, did a guy rush out of here a few minutes ago?” 

He nodded. “Tall, blond, looks like a total player?” 

“Yeah, that’s him.” 

“He took a left, toward the park,” Gerry said. “Be safe, sweetheart. He looks like he’d break your heart.” 

“He’s just a friend.” 

Gerry nodded knowingly. “Friend. OK, doll. You be safe out there, it’s cold as all hell.” 

You smiled, bursting through the double glass doors, getting smacked in the face by a gust of air. It burrowed into your skin, freezing you whole and despite the heavy coat your teeth chattered as you took a hard left down Fifth. Washington Square Park was five blocks away, but no way Jake had already made it that far, right? 

No one else was out. Who would be so stupid as to go outside at nearly midnight in the middle of the worst blizzard in two decades? 

Apparently you. And Jake Seresin. 

You scampered across the intersection, crossing tenth street, hurrying as the wind gusted from one side, threatening to toss you into the nonexistent traffic on the avenue going downtown toward the park. 

Up ahead, you spotted the familiar Washington Arch that stood at the northern part of the park. Snowflakes dotted your eyelashes and you blinked, pressing them away into liquid, before opening your eyes wide, spotting a familiar head bobbing down the sidewalk. “Jake!” you called out, your voice getting picked up and carried away in the wind. “Jake!” 

Beneath your body, your feet scrambled along, pushing you closer. 

“Jake!” 

The man in the distance stopped and turned. The lights illuminating the arch highlighted him from behind. His jacket was too thin and as you approached you could see it was damp from snow, his hair sticking to his drawn face.

“Seresin,” you said, stepping closer until the two of you were only a few feet apart. “What the fuck? You’re like a shit baby daddy, going out for diapers and never coming back.” 

“Get it all out,” he said. “Whatever you think of me, Ella. It’s time to air the dirty laundry.” 

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what’s happening. One second we’re drunk and laughing and the next second you’re fucking running away and forcing me to chase you through a goddamn blizzard.” 

“You didn’t have to chase me.” 

“You left,” you said quietly. “What did you expect me to do?” 

“Let me leave,” Jake said. “If you think I’m such a bad person, what do you care if I stay or not?” 

“The real question is why did you hate me so much,” you whispered. “Back in the apartment. I asked why you hated me so much back then. And instead of answering, you made up some bullshit excuse about needing tequila. So answer, Jake. Or I’ll let you turn into an ice sculpture and I’ll sell you to 230 Fifth and their stupid fucking igloo bar as decoration.” 

“I don’t hate you, Ella,” Jake said, stepping closer. Even drenched in snow he was warm. A furnace. “I never hated you.” 

“So what was it then?” you demanded. “A Mr. Darcy thing? You ignored me and shut me out and gave me shit because you loved me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What?” Stunned silence surrounded the two of you. If it was even possible, the snowflakes fell slower. As if they were suspended in the air. It was just you and Jake in the middle of Fifth Avenue in a snowglobe. You looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“Did you ever think, Ella, that maybe I called you for a reason?” Jake asked quietly. “That maybe, just maybe, I spent eight years wondering about what had happened to the one girl who had seen me for who I really was and never let me get away with it? That maybe, just maybe, I took your feedback to heart and tried to change. And now I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” 

“For this,” Jake said, closing the distance between the two of you and sliding one hand around your neck, tipping your head back, bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 @seresinslady @hookslove1592 @shotclock24seconds @fanficfandomlove @ryebecca @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @t8r-tots

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin au #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman series #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

[ultralightpoe]

Rule Number Two- Jake Seresin

Authors Note: Hey how you doing let me whisper in your ear

Warning: Smut, jackass ex

Word Count: 2443

PART ONE HERE 

Enjoy!

It has been a month since Jake Seresin ruined his own life. 

He didn’t crash his car, or one of the jets, nor did he lose his job. He didn’t dye his hair or ruin his favorite shirt. He managed to ruin his own life by walking out on the one he loved the most. 

It was kinda comedic if you think about it. The way he craved your every touch and craved to be near you just to get that stripped away because you offered him more and he was too much of a coward. God, he wished he could go back to that moment  and kiss you as hard as he could and never let you go. 

He often imagined what it would have been like if he had, how he would spend his days texting you and getting cute little selfies from you at work. Or he would actually spend the night at your place, watching the sun come up as you slept in, allowing him time to make you breakfast. He would make you breakfast every morning until he figured out what kind of breakfast person you were, he suspected french toast. 

“Hangman, on your 4!” Coyote calls, snapping him back attention until they both circle each other and speed off to catch Maverick. 

“Come on, Bagman,” Maverick teases, “Get your head out of the clouds and focus on me. I want an actual opponent.”

“Bagman is focused on what ring he wants to get the girl.” Coyote snips, laughing when Jake flips him off. 

—----------------------------

It was a bad habit, but after a stressful day Jake would walk to your apartment building, trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. 

He wasn’t stalking you, he had every intention of walking up to your door and telling you how much he misses you and how desperate he is to see you, but nearly every time he was three steps away he remembered how you couldn’t look at him as he dropped the napkin. He remembers the embarrassment as he left. 

Today, however, was going to be the day. He was gonna get his girl. 

He was still in uniform when he left base, driving the route he knew by heart, and nodding to everyone who thanked him as he passed them while walking the block to your place. He counted the steps, feeling his heart hammer in his chest as he fixed his hair, smiling at an older lady who thanked him for his service before he rounded the corner to see you. 

But he stops when he sees another man there. Skinny, shaggy hair, professor vibe. The guy looks anxious, clutching on to the bundle of white roses tightly as his foot taps harshly on the floor beneath him, his overly expensive shoes making a drum sound on the concrete. 

Jake is about to ask him who he was when you open the door, a look of shock written on your features as Jake hides behind the wall and listens. 

“Thomas….” You sound hesitant and since this is the first time Jake has heard your voice in weeks his chest aches just at the tone. “I didn’t know you were co-”

“I miss you Y/n. I miss you so fucking much.” Thomas interrupts, his voice cracking. “I swear I will never do it again.”

“Thomas I’m a little busy.”

“Five minutes. Y/n I’m begging you baby. Give me five fucking minutes.” Baby. The nickname itself made him want to puke. You weren't a baby or babe. You were sugar, or honey, or your personal favorite had always been Sweetheart but that always came out when you were in a very heated moment. Who the fuck was this guy?

“You can come in.” You sigh and Jake wants to scream, the sound of the door closes and before he can think of it he punches the bricks behind him. Pain travels up his hands and he grunts out, storming out of the building. 

—--------------

“Who has bricks INSIDE a building?!” Jake snaps, watching Bradley and Natasha laugh at him as embarrassment clings to his every being. 

“Who punches a brick wall?” Bradley counters, shaking his head. “What was going through your head?”

“Y/n, and how much he loves her.” Javy, Coyote, laughs while punching his shoulder. Jake just shrugged him off and kept walking to the club they were all heading to, not really waiting for them to catch up. 

“You said that I should tell her how I felt Rooster.” He defends. “And I was planning on doing just that, but then he was there.”

“Yeah yeah, then you punched the wall.” He laughs, pulling him into the club. “Just…. Don’t get shitfaced-”

“I won’t.”

—----------------

You were shitfaced, a feeling you enjoyed very much. 

It had been a very stressful day, between you trying not to pretend Jake Seresin was a thorn in your heart and mind and your ex Thomas showing up with the ugliest flowers you had ever seen and begging for your love back, well……you were just so tired. 

So you conceited when Amy invited you out, wearing one of her dresses and pretending that the heels weren’t actually killing you. The alcohol was making it a bit better, or maybe you just couldn’t tell anymore. 

“Hey!” Amy croons when she sees you, excitement lighting up her face. “I KNOW YOU!”

“Yeah! You brought me here!” You giggle, dancing beside her. “Where did the others go?”

“Bathroom…. Or the bar.” She laughs spinning you around, right into a random chest. Both of you gasp in shock as Amy moves on to dance with another guy, meanwhile you look up to see Thomas glaring down at you.

“Thomas?” You snap, moving to step back but he grabs your wrists tightly. 

“I have been looking everywhere for you.” He snaps and you look around to find Amy, only to see her a few steps off completely in her own world. If you called out she wouldn’t hear you above the music. 

“I already said everything I wanted to say-”

“You didn’t give me an actual chance to explain.” He snaps, and you look around for an escape. Then you see him, the man that has been haunting your every second for the last month. Standing by the bar, with one hand gripping a beer and the other spread out before him as he inspects it. 

“Okay. Okay.” You concede, nodding to Thomas. Everytime you made eye contact you were brought back to the moment you were left sobbing on the living room floor holding the cheek he had punched. But instead of sobbing this time you put on the best flirt face and smiled. “Buy me a drink?”

He smiles, excited that he was gonna get his way. “Lead the way.”

So you did. You slipped from his touch and walked to the bar, right where Jake was standing with a frown. He saw you a few steps away and his spine shot straight up, you saw him reach out a bruised hand for you. 

“Oh Jake!” You smile, right as Thomas storms up behind you. Jake's face falls for a moment and he looks like he wants to walk away but you reach for his chest lightly. “Jake! Jake, I am so excited. I really want to introduce you to-”

“Thomas.” He cuts you off, reaching past you to shake Jake's hand. You send Jake a pleading look while Thomas is behind you, and he seems to catch on, brows creasing together. 

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin, Top Gun Naval Aviator.” You would be lying if you said that you weren’t affected by that. Suddenly you wanted to jump on him here and now. 

“That’s….that’s cool I guess?” Thomas snickers, tapping your shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me.” You smile, watching him nod and turn to the bar as you snatch Jake’s elbow and  pull him a couple steps away. 

“Thomas?” He asks, one hand gripping your waist. You lean in to hear him over the music, blushing a bit when he bends down to hear you as well. 

“Thomas.” You nod, casting a look to where Thomas was arguing with the bartender. “Six year relationship Thomas.”

“Wasted time.” He smiles, remembering your words from the last night he saw you. “Still wasting your time?”

“Indeed-” You answer right before a bright colored drink is put right under your nose. 

Jake’s jaw tenses as he steps back but keeps his hand on your waist. “Do you mind? I was trying to talk to her.”

Thomas narrows his eyes and stands straighter. “Funny, so was I.” 

Jake glares as Thomas puts a hand over your shoulder, and moves to flick it off. “Hands off my girl.”

“Get your hands off MY girl.” Thomas snaps, slapping Jake's hand off your waist. You panic for a moment and step into Jake, who immediately wraps an arm around you. 

“Y/n? Sugar?” He asks, looking down at you as you wrap an arm around his stomach and smile. “Think it’s time to get home?”

“I think so.” You smile, moving to walk before Thomas steps in front of you. You barely had time to blink before Jake had his fist smashing into his face, pulling the attention of many people in the bar. “Okay, it’s definitely time to go.”

—---------------------

You pull him out of club, and Jake can’t seem to process how fucking lucky he was. Not only was he standing with you, an arm wrapped around you, he had also gotten to punch that waste of space with the unkept beard. 

“How did you get here?” He asks, watching you cringe the second your feet his the concrete sidewalk. He, without even thinking, reaches down to grab your ankle and undo the heel.

“Amy- I can’t walk barefoot.” You mumble, trying to keep the shoe on but he doesn't concede and snatches it off. 

“Come on, I got ya Sugar.” He smiles, standing up and tossing you over his shoulder. His chest tightens as you laugh, gripping the back of his shirt while he reaches into his pocket for his car keys. “You gonna tell me about Thomas?”

“You gonna run out the door again?” You snap and then a second later you laugh and something tightens in his chest again. 

“Alright, watch your head.” He mumbles, setting you in his car as you keep giggling. “You laughin’ at me?”

He’s just teasing, to be honest he would rather you laugh at him then hate him, would rather you laugh at him for the rest of his life then not see you.

“No, I am laughing at myself.” You answer, leaning forward to touch his eyebrow while he buckles you in. “Cause I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. I should have been braver.” He sighs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Lean back, close your eyes.”

—-------------

You wake up to the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, your head pounding as you struggle to sit up. You had been changed out of the uncomfortable dress into a baggy set of pajamas and tucked into your blankets tightly.  “How the hell did I-”

Then you remember Jake tucking you in, shaking his head as you kissed his face repeatedly and trying to get you to go to bed. ‘Goodnight, I love you’

You had to have imagined that part, but as you climbed out of the bed and padded along the floor while rubbing your eyes, stopping dead in your tracks as you see Jake shuffling around in your kitchen still in last night's clothes. 

“You’re still here?” You are stunned, mouth agape as you stare at him. 

“Yeah… And I’m hoping you like french toast.” He blushes, casting a look to where you were sitting on the couch now. 

“I do.” You smile, curling up. He stares for a moment before taking a second and walking over to sit in front of you. 

“I…. well… uhm good morning.” He mumbles, trying to fix his hair nervously. “I wanted to start by saying I’m a coward.”

You wait, crossing your legs as you stare at him. “Do you remember what you said to me the first night we met?”

“No?” 

“You’re hot, and I’m Y/n….lets make babies.” You had laughed, leaning in closer. “But I’m not looking for a long time thing, just a short fling.”

“I said that?” You laughed. “A little blunt.”

“You said that you had just gotten out of a relationship and you didn’t want to waste anymore time.” He explains, bumping your knee. “And for the first time in my entire history I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t let you leave. So I played it up, I wrote this stupid rule. I was making it seem like I wasn’t desperate to be near you.”

You couldn’t breathe, desperate to touch him. 

“For weeks I was trying to play it cool and then suddenly you were telling everything I wanted to hear. And I panicked. Running like an absolute coward.”

“You did run out of here kinda fast.” You mumble, watching as he leans closer. 

“I propose a new rule.” He whispers and you watch as he pulls out a napkin, handing it to you. 

‘RULE NUMBER TWO; Make breakfast together every morning.”

“What does this mean?” You ask, clutching it. 

“It means I want to spend every morning with you.” He smiles, “making silly rules and loving you.”

“I think I can allow that.”

—-------------------------

Desperate moans filled the house as Jake laughed from his spot above you, sweating and smug.  Your husband loved torturing you on the mornings he had off, over and over.

“You’re….. Not being fair-” You mewl, pulling him closer as he nips at your jaw. 

“Nuh uh.” He laughs, thrusting forward again, trying to get deeper. “This is completely fair. You broke rule number six.”

Rule number six (written on a sticky note stolen from the doctors office during his monthly check up for top gun) ; never go to bed angry at the other. 

“You… It was your fault!”

“How so?” He cackles, biting down on your lip. 

“Rule number fifteen, never get hurt at work.”

“I never agreed to that rule-”

“You make me follow it!”

“You are my wife. Of course I make you follow it. Now…..” He has a smug look in his eye that makes you nervous. “Apologize for going to bed mad at me and I’ll give you everything you want.”

“You’ll finish me?”

“Promise.”

“French toast?”

“Swear it.” He knew you liked french toast.

#jake #seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin top gun #hangman x reader #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman smut #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #hangman top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun angst #top gun maverick

[wintersoldierslover]

my fic recs masterlist

---

Bucky Barnes:

all bucky barnes

headcanon  -  blurb  -  one-shot  -  series

dbf!bucky  -  brothers bff  -  bff’s brother

neighbour  -  housewife reader

lumberjack  -  firefighter  -  bodyguard

priest bucky  -  college

football player  -  hockey player  -  boxer

professor  -  teacher  -  librarian/bookshop

coffee shop  -  soulmate  -  royal

other AUs  -  taboo

---

Stranger Things characters:

all eddie munson - all steve harrington

eddie and steve (x reader)

billy hargrove - jason carver - mike wheeler

dmitri enzo antonov - jim hopper

robin buckley - nancy wheeler

---

Outer Banks Characters:

all Rafe Cameron

all JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron and JJ Maybank (x reader)

Pope Heyward - Topper Thorton

John B. - Sarah Cameron

Kiara Carrera

---

Marvel characters:

Wanda Maximoff  -   Kate Bishop

Natasha Romanoff  -  Yelena Belova

Peter Parker  -  Pietro Maximoff

Steve Rogers  -  Stephen Strange

Frank Castle  -  Matt Murdock 

Moon knight  -  Steven Grant

Joaqín Torres - Clint Barton

Loki Laufeyson - Druig

Eddie Brock - Miles Morales

Miguel O’hara - Hobie Brown

---

Harry Potter characters:

Sirius Black - Remus Lupin 

James Potter - Poly!Marauders

Lily potter -  Cedric Diggory

George Weasley - Fred Weasley

Severus Snape - Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

---

Avatar (James Cameron) charachters:

neteyam - aonung - lo’ak

rotxo - kiri - spider

jake sully - neytiri - tsu’tey

tonowari - ronal - colonel quaritch

---

Top Gun chracters:

Fanboy  -  Hangman  -  Rooster - Bob

Iceman

---

Wednesday characters:

Xavier Thorpe - Ajax Petropolus

Wednesday Addams - Divina

---

Bridgerton characters:

Anthony Bridgerton -  Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

---

Criminal Minds characters:

Spencer Reid  -  Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

---

The Last of Us characters:

Joel Miller - Ellie Williams

Abby Anderson

---

The Devil All The Time characters:

Tommy Matson - Lee Bodecker

---

Uncharted characters:

Nate Drake - Sam Drake

---

Euphoria characters:

Elliot (Euphoria) - Fezco

---

On My Block characters:

Mario Martinez - Oscar Diaz

---

Modern Family characters:

Luke Dunphy - Alex Dunphy

---

Ted Lasso:

Roy Kent - Jamie Tartt

---

NHL players:

Matthew Ktachuk - Trevor Zegras

Nolan Patrick - Tyler Seguin

---

Actors:

Sebastian Stan - Joseph Quinn

Jamie Campbell Bower - Danny Ramirez

Drew Starkey - Rudy Pankow

Ben Hardy - Bella Ramsey

Jenna Ortega

---

Miscellaneous characters:

Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz  -   Marcus Baker

Rodrick Heffley -  Hunter Sylvester

Lloyd Hansen - Ari Levinson

Nick Fowler -  Tangerine

Rhett Abbott - Hayden ‘Harvard Hottie’

Colin (Not Okay) -   Min Ho (Xo, Kitty)

Ash (No Exit) -  James Maguire (Derby Girls)

Jake Peralta - Nick Miller  - Brian O’conner

Anakin Skywalker - Bruno Madrigal

Tadashi Hamada - Kakashi Hatake

---

Miscellaneous real people:

Billie Eilish - AEW Hook

---

*Updated whenever there’s a new character <3

#wintersoldierslover #fic recs #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #billy hargrove x reader #jason carver x reader #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #rafe cameron x smut #jj mabank x reader #jj maybank x reader x rafe cameron #wanda maximoff x reader #kate bishop x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #peter parker x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #stephen strange x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #joaquin torres x reader